An Old Mariner's Soul
From womb to icy breath to icy foam to silent death we sail
We curse, we nurse, fight wind, angry rain and laughing hail.
Ageless blind a spirit climbs the dancing moonlight streams
Working as lad no home we had just slashing waves and dreamer's dreams.
Learning to love and shunning one love we set our sails for gold
Drinking to her wheel, a devilish deal, she taps my skin of old.
Yelling threats to Davy's regrets yet we tread a darkened lane
Backs bent from loading scents that China sold as cane.
Never home working alone mumbling an order or two
Shabby coats, shallow moats and dragon's tales we shew.
Eyes of hawk sharp and keen telling lies of girls named Gwen
Rum so fresh stinging so deep not thinking of the deep again.
Old mariner, old mariner, they sing and cling to us again
Begging a day us to stay boredom laughs now and then.
Pipes lit and slowly I sit to hope the stern is set for east
One more time to drink in the brine to die with women with beast.
My children's eyes tell me their soul it's pain and troublesome load
It tears at my heart, giving them a part of an earned handful of gold.
Yet "she" stands firm unmoving to captivate our eyes
One sea to sea no shore no feet no cries.
We hear the cold hymns of the mourning soul now singing
A brass bell in withered death's hands slowly ringing.
A chill runs slowly but surely down my spine
I give back the spark of hope that used to be mine.
I see her hand holding my main sail calm so quiet
Nightfall drifting, evil eyes blinking from dusk to night.
Nameless waves crash my port side o'er and o'er
Blood drips in my mute sight more and more
What is our soul? Our wandering soul? A light, a flicker or two
We feel, we steal, and "she" arises to chastise the blue.
We know it, we see it entering our door
To live, to die, a short mission to sail no more.
© 2016 Kenneth Avery
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