Lost Boys -Rewrite 1/29/11

9 Comments

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  • Sailing

    Poem Commentary

    This is a rewrite and I am leaving the old poem posted. I would love to hear comments on which writing you prefer and why. It would really make my day. This second write has a poem within the poem. Please do not be afraid to let me know what you think. I am looking a critical review. -Thank you, Shallene

    Lost Boys -Rewrite 1/29/11


    The crew -down below
    In the hole -of the forecastle
    Where all the gypsies of the sea are
         -sleeping-

    A Wendy -I sit on a three-legged stool
    Between the bunks -reading to them
    Until the rocking rhythm of the wave-
    Climbing bow -pulls their own
    Subconscious over their sighing
         -eyes-

    In their dreams -they are
    Winkin', Blinkin' and Nod
    Sailing on a sea of stars and-
         -night-

    I close the book-
    On the end of the first watch-
    We emerge on the deck
    from out of the varnished wooden
         -hatches-

    Breathing -deeply the crisp ocean air
    I steal the breeze -with my lungs
    And sit quietly-
    In the arms of the ship's
         -shadows-

    I watch -the smoke
    From the second mate's cigarette -unfurl
    And curl -as a wind indicator
    It rolls over the bulwark -out past
    The sprit -and into the namelesssness
         -of darkness-

    He knows I am
         -there-

    But silence-
    Is the only answer
    To that which is-
         -an inexpressible-

    We do not look-
    At one another
    We look-
    Before us
    At our one and only
         -destination-

         -The Sea-

    Poem Comments

    (9)

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    Kingwebstar commented on Lost Boys -Rewrite 1/29/11

    05-26-2012

    Great job.Keep writing cause you are a excellent writer
    Reply to Comment

    dahlusion commented on Lost Boys -Rewrite 1/29/11

    02-02-2011

    I like both of them; each has their point and focus laid out perfectly in all of their insight, and their destination "the sea" is the only thing that matters. Keep that one good-eye on your dream. bravo!!!!!!! peace and light, dah
    Reply to Comment

    shallenemcgrath

    02/02/2011

    Thanks Dah. I thought that the second one would appeal more to your sense of structure. Sometimes we just can't seem to recapture that essence that is found in the mess though.

    RHPeat commented on Lost Boys -Rewrite 1/29/11

    01-31-2011

    Nice one. The sea is the destination of every sailor. Home, mother and love it is the only answer to the spindrift and melancholy. The press of sea wind is the lover's embrace and the salt air is the sting of her cold kiss when she is brassy. 8 bells and all is well. A poet friend//RH Peat
    Reply to Comment

    lorenzo commented on Lost Boys -Rewrite 1/29/11

    01-31-2011

    beauty being in the ear of the beholder, personally Shallene (or should i call you Grace O'Malley?) i prefer the first version of this wonderful poem.
    Reply to Comment

    shallenemcgrath

    01/31/2011

    Nice reference to the Irish woman pirate lorenzo... But I was no pirate- unless of course you count men's hearts, *wink*

    Chaos128 commented on Lost Boys -Rewrite 1/29/11

    01-31-2011

    This version I see with a different light, and a modicum of understanding. Of course if the ship is your life, what else can you be but the captain. See? I can catch on... eventually ha ha.
    Reply to Comment

    shallenemcgrath

    01/31/2011

    Oh Captain, my Captain... -Walt Whitman.. Nope, wasn't the Captain. I was a swabbie. (Jack) as they call them on the Tall Ships. It is about the passion and the longing to be at sea. ............"It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball." -Herman Melville, Moby Dick -page 1 -paragraph 1

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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