Broken Bow

 

Broken Bow

 

Sinking, a dying ship, luff sails, stuck in the trough.

Rigging is ragged, sails torn.

The helm will not answer, the rudder is gone.

The compass spins. North is not there.

 

A tempest is looming, the seas rise.

The air is frigid, sharp and penetrating.

Dank, piercing glacial winds buffet the hull.

Heaving to and fro, there is nowhere to go.

 

Wood cracking, shearing and splintering.

The bilge bursting with a deluge of numbing waters.

Pitching and rolling, almost broaching.

The Bow is broken, the stern asunder.

 

My course is uncharted, the bearings are lost.

My heading is certain. The end is here.

A final plea and a prayer.

 

A wintry, heartless voice on the wind.

 

The Dutchman is near.

 

The Abysmal depths await, the locker is my fate.

 

Reviews

[RHEA CROSLEY]

Very well written and I can relate to the intensity of emotion through tough times. Though He leads me through the fire it does not leave a burning scare for is my faithful resurrection. Yes some times life is a fire of ice so cold it burns. I also can relate to the sail boat having lived on one in my youth in the Virgin Islands for two months You obviously have researched or been around boats. Thanks for sharing.

[Jer]

It is a breathtaking poem like as your locus, but don't foget you are a brave warrior fighting with storms, you will get won all the time, Shawn