The Sailor's Tale Poem by Paul Warren

We sat and talked together that day
As he reminisced in his usual way
That old uncle of mine and me
How he had growing up in Port Adelaide and he loved the sea
For in his youth he climbed the rigging so bravely
As a wooden ketch sailed in the South Australian waters so easily

For in those days there was no road transport
And the ketches were the lifeblood from each port
The wheat and the wool in the hold when the work was done
Bringing their cargo to the city with each voyage won
He spoke of what it was like as his tale was told
A handful of men versus the sea so bold
Sailing on the ocean's blue waves
When the wind blew the sails and the masts swayed as they gave

No matter the weather the ship ahead sailed
For to yield to the sea meant the voyage had failed
He liked the freedom of the ketch and the sea
And how he loved to climb the mast as a sight to see
No one else on the ketch braved the mast
When the wind blew hard in your face to make you gasp
And I could tell by his eyes he wished he were there
On the mast with the spray on his face and the wind in his hair

Now that was years past and the ketches don't sail
For those times have passed into history's tale
And the men who sailed them are gone
With no living history left so forlorn
But I wonder if there are still ghostly sails
Taking these old men to heaven where the wind never fails.

© Paul Warren Poetry