To Walk the Walk
On iron decks I have walked across
the Atlantic, and forever the drone
of the ship’s heart, beats in my ears
reminding me of our mortality.
Sleepless nights when the engine
ceased in port of calls
It used to be so very different
walked on solid planks to Mandalay
where fly-fish waked, flapping sails,
roaring silence and worried mariners
when rounding Cape Horn.
Memories go untold.
Fake pearls and crows’ silver I collected,
behind me a wake of loneliness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
`It used to be so very different'.. can you shape that up for me. this was a good, strong write. makes me think of pirates and foggy nites.. double-check: is the anchor secure. keep on, sjg