Uncharted Waters

somewhere in the mid-latitudes, a ship prepares to sail

 

Uncharted Waters

Do you see my captain’s ship over there, preparing to set sail?
    It’s the one just a bit eccentric- the old clipper,
remnant of some bygone far more romantic era;
   her hull carefully patched and sails lovingly mended, and her bow
setting a tiny bit lower in the water than she had even a while ago.
      Ships can be sensitive about these things.

She is not the desired sleek, new, opulent yachts-
     that make one think of Caribbean fiestas, caviar, and gentleman’s clubs.
Floating alongside them, one does not know what to make of her at all.
    My captain’s ship is a vessel more suited to the journey of a child’s imagination-
following the likes of Darwin, or Barrett or London or Crusoe,
      certainly not conversant with Forbes and Conde Nast.

My captain begs pardon if she has harbored here uncomfortably long,
     in the quiescent bay of your little island’s lonely paradise.
We arrived quite by accident, and will be making way posthaste.
     Last week, we checked provisions, mended ropes, and consulted maps;
Today, the sextant was set to some distant vanishing point on an unknown horizon.

You have sheltered her well here- and she is grateful,
        for the assistance, the care you have shown, the sharing of laughs and memories made.  
You have been most chivalrous, and generous of your time and self-
       I can tell you, my captain sails with heavy, reluctant heart
 and will slip away quietly, unnoticed to you in your verdant home.

Her message to you is do not fret- this time is not the first,
      she has made an absolute and complete fool of herself
Finding a place where her soul might have given up sailing a while;
    Settling her heart to request a home on solid ground- only to find she has
but prepared the way for habitation by another, invited, guest.

She will hold your shared secrets close-
        for my captain is a strong woman of many mysteries.
She is careful to be wistful in the dark for the truths she dare not utter in the light,
     and will only let you see her best intentions for you and yours. She will not mention-
if she grieves in quiet places with the stars her only witness. For she is also proud.
    
If you will permit me, kind sir, there are more preparations I must make-
      we sail in the crepuscular hours, by sun’s faintest light
My captain will navigate, solely by intuition and courage,
    the treacherous shoals offshore, where, like Hatteras, skeletons of wrecks lie just beneath.
As the maps she brought will no longer serve her for this particular journey.

Her sojourn here has so affected and changed her, she can no longer locate
   even the latitude and longitude of this place.
These are completely new and uncharted waters to her now.
      She would have stayed to learn your home had the invitation been extended-
But she understands why it was not, and graciously asks just your leave.

I too must now go- Take my hand, and bow “fare-thee-well” to the things I have not said-
     That the captain yearns for a copilot to stand by her side,
that when she invited you to walk upon her own island’s shore she did not expect
    the sand to turn to stone under your footprints, preserving them like shadows cast upon her life.
I also cannot tell you how much easier it is for me to speak of “my captain”-

As if she really were in the third person-
    Instead of admitting to you outright how I honestly feel about this departure.
Please do not try to meet my gaze as I turn to make my way-
    For that ship’s captain must be dry-eyed when she draws anchor, and turns the rudder
Slowly setting sail to navigate her way back through your uncharted waters.

If you think of it, just serenade her softly after she is gone.

 

Reviews

[Ravyne Hawke]

Congrats on your contest win. When I first began reading this, I thought, how could this be a break-up poem. By the ending, you had me convinced. So much beautiful imagery in this piece. Wonderful rhythm and flow. You were able to extend the metaphor of this piece perfectly throughout the entire poem. The ending is sad, yet enthralling. A soft serenade... beautiful.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, Lori... not sure what it says when I sweep the board on a contest.. and the contest of for break-up poetry. Kind of a bittersweet win. LOL I do not think any love poem of mine ever received a contest win. But there you go. Gosh, this was so long ago I wrote this piece... I remember the night, and the circumstances, clear as day. I was holding onto something a little too strongly, perhaps... a true gentleman in my life, with other callings, and had to gently let go in order to follow a beacon to another port of call. Writing with no bitterness helped immensely- I was freed quickly, and the fellow and I are still on wonderful terms. It was an exercise in the power of words for me, the power of written intent. I am glad this touched something in you, as well.

[Marie Anzalone]

*is for

[Ravyne Hawke]

I never look at the names of my contestants while reading their submissions.. so what it says is that you are an amazing writer and I found something profoundly beautiful in your words. You deserved all three awards. I am glad that you were able to find the words to let him go without the bitterness we so often feel. Truly amazing =)

[Donald Meikle]

this i enjoyed reading from beginning to end. It is as yaw as i've seen lately.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, Donald. Your reviews are much appreciated.

[Larry Dyson]

wonderfully written and amazing the date you wrote it! I will not hear anymore about you're not being an accomplished writer...superlative piece.

[cest la vie]

There is really nothing I can add in the form of a review the others have not already said.
Muy excellente'!!!!

This is very nice I love way you put your self sort of in the third person. O captain my captain seems to be searching for a port to stay but can't seem to find it. Love it
kewel kewel
lionman

[Patient Poet (Yos)]

Beautiful beautiful Bravooooo my dear!!

that was so sweet, I loved to take that trip with you and the personalization was briliant, your imagination is so vivid and you succedd to use it wisely on that writting :)

the last stanza is so beautiful , love it
Yossi

[Phibby Venable]

this is very beautiful, but sad..all the hard work & then leaving..all the love and then memories instead.
wonderful images and well paced.

[Rick Puetter]

Dear Marie,

What a wonderful piece. You develop the extended metaphor so beautifully, the metaphor can be enjoyed solely on it's own without realizing the deep metaphorical connection with the author and the woman speaking in the poem. A marvelous job. And how often have we all felt forced to sail when we longed to stay, having entered what we considered a peaceful and safe harbor only to find something else. While this is not directly related to your poem here, reading this I immediately was reminded of Whitman's "O Captain! My Captain!", i.e.,

"O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead."

Here too is a sad ending to a trip that initially must have seemed so full of potential. Here too, is another talking for the Captain that has lost so much and who intimately shares the captain's blood.

A tremendously good piece. This gets one of my rare 98% ratings, the highest I have ever given on WC. So in my view this piece is among a handful of pieces that I consider the very best that I have read. Kudos! Extremely well done.

Very best regards,

Rick

[V. Lucien Maier]

this is done very very well. The pacing and flow are done with a very practiced hand, The subject and metaphor are wonderfully thought out and presented. This is a piece I could see (hear) readers quoting from. Excellent Work.

[SR Urie]

Mmm, Miss Marie.
Step up her mast and check the shrouds, secure the forestay. Hook up the rudder and the motor, attached the main, grommet by grommet, hoist the sheet and make fast to an after cleet. Attach a furling jib and lay the port and starboard sheets to unfettered drums. Lay her too and raise them with the motor until you can find the wind, put her on a close haul and mind the traffic until her keel evens up. Embrace her helm as she silently sings to you, purrs, cutting the water and rides the wind until the journey is over. Touch her lightly but hold her with an iron grip for she is a lost vessel without the officer of the deck.
And when she's gone miss her, mourn her, and remember her love when she was once yours.
BZ