Luke Nicholson


The Navigator. - Poem by Luke Nicholson

The Navigator was a quiet man.

Maps betray the attentive detail of their heroes.

Tame the up-starts for the hope of home.

The Navigator was a quiet man.

Hollow eyes.

Inked

Compass spun.

Studious writings of one charting connections and clearing a path not for himself… for others. So they may find the hope of home.

The Navigator was a quiet man.

The ships were still.

It had been years since he had concerned himself with the dawn. He realised long ago he must stay behind, never finding the hope of home.

The Navigator was a quiet man.

The ships were still.

He worked by starlight and blackest calm.

Hollowed eyes.

Inked.

Compass spins.

The men spoke in whispers, avoiding him yet through night he works.

Plotting the hope of home.

The ships no longer still.

The Men worked.

The compass spins.

He has found his calm in finding their hope of home.

The Navigator was a quiet man.


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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 8, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, October 9, 2013


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