we point our proud bow
to the open sea.
Warm winds swell the canvas
painted with shadows of gulls.
Our ship is beautiful,
it skims the green waves
a dragonfly by day
a firefly by night.
We loosen the ropes and tighten them,
consult the compass,
and sometimes believe
that we have traced a route through the deep.
But the ocean has embraced us
and maps its own desires,
and we can only laugh and kiss
and dance our feet in the luminous wake.
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Comments about this poem (Sailing by john clinock )
- Dinwini gwswkhangthiyao, Shri R Brahma
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- Dead men walk!, bryan wallace
- Tangnai Horni Simang, Shri R Brahma
- Baonw Haya Ang, Shri R Brahma
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