John Lars Zwerenz
The Ghost Ship - Poem by John Lars Zwerenz
THE GHOST SHIP
Every hand on deck had faith in his sword,
Every hand on deck that climbed aboard
A ship that left Boston in a swirling snow.
In three days time it attained the open sea.
And all hands on deck met their destiny
In the abyss of The Atlantic, in its dark billows below.
The schooner was tossed upon the waves
Like a mad, orphaned cork dancing on the blue terrain.
Its wheel turned blindly, assailed by wild rain,
Until the water was stilled over its graves.
Then silent as a whisper, a skeletal clutch
Took the helm and turned the ship to the east.
A malevolent guest, this mysterious beast
Reveled in the deaths which felt his touch:
The last thing they knew before the mad sea
Swallowed their bones so adamantly.
And in some days time the ship arrived in Spain
Where eager sailors got on board
To take to Boston their gold and grain-
And every hand on deck had faith in his sword.
~ John Lars Zwerenz
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