Gen Ocean of Life
Cockleshells of Life are we,
Braving storms of tempestuous seas;
Riding the breakers, clinging on tight,
Rolling awash, praying for light.
Into the doldrums, gasping for breath,
Thinking at times, better 'twere death;
But the thrill and the skim of a bright windy day
Chases such sad thoughts far, far away.
Come weather foul, come weather fair,
We'll give of our best and do what we dare;
Keep weather eyes open and show that we care
For other sea-farers whom met here and there.
Throw life-lines if need be, drink some good beer,
Sharing what's there of all kinds of cheer;
Then wait in the offing as long as seems best
Till called to the harbour to take a good rest.
Comments about this poem (Gen Ocean of Life by Mill Field )
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