When I look to the sea I think of time with it's
horizon, that great dividing line. I see the ships
that crossed her waters from one's that had sailed
with rat infested quarters; yet they sailed so proudly
from our shore not knowing what they would find on their
new neighbours door. Imigrants by the thousands
queued upon the sand because the potato was left to the land.
Time passes on, and there were times that were great,
when sea captains fought no matter what their fate.
Times with brandy and smugglers caves, shipwrecks
gone to watery graves.Like the Mary Rose and King Henry's
treasure, then when it was discovered it gave such pleasure.
The reading of books with Hawkins the boy, great discoveries
and land ahoy. Swashbuckling pirates have a place in time,
when they walked the plank that was the end of the line.
Time never stands still as the waves roll on, they are just
like a clock with a loud sounding gong. You can stand and
watch them crash upon the shore but all they are doing is knocking,
on our front door.
I really like the endless time feel of this poem, Rosie. We think we are so important to history, and in some ways, we are, but really, we're but specks on the horizan of time. Well done.
A merging of pirates and seas from past to present, GREATTTT JOBBB GREATTTT JOBBB says the parrot Love Duncan X
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A bit of 'Long John Silver' and all that. Wonderful story. Time of the galleons with sails billowing. Delightful stuff. Love Ernestine XXX