To Sail Again
A broken ship lists on restless surf
Its prow cut by black mocking waves
Its hull is all splintered and riven
Its crew all long captured and slaved.
Tendrils of Neptune drown in her bilge
Long due a watery grave
Blinded, spent, relinquishing life
It slips beneath rapacious waves.
I know of a broken wreck resting in pain
Wishing that things had all stayed the same
Still the same picture but in an old frame
A gold medal runner now hamstrung and lame
A man-eating tiger, whipped, beaten and tame
Once mighty and proud now shackled in chain
A novel unfinished the author insane
Lying in silence in destitute shame
Looking inward to shoulder the blame
Searching for peace to silence the pain…
…but to no avail.
To ride amidst the tides of life
To sail the world of love and strife
To thrill, to touch, to wonder how
To shout once more from her grand prow
But this fair fate can never be
The ship now deep beneath the sea
Rotting in the ocean silt
Her cargo jagged visceral guilt
Yet deep in the dark, strife-stricken shell there still remains a flicker – a glimmer of hope…
… a zeal to sail again.
Chris Jones is an accidental poet, obsessed with story and rhyme. He has always written, but has only recently wandered into the wrong types of pubs where he has started to hang around with the right type of poets. He lives in Sheffield.