Dear brother
This morn
I must part
Like the wind
I can
Know longer
Take your merchant ship
Any moor
Borne to sale
For that is knot
What I was billed for
To harbor
In relative safety
My cell in a dudgeon
Seeking asylum from
My most rugged dreams
And giddy travails
For this is
What it must be
A boat
Beyond fortuitous cape
Err akin a strait jacket
A-company-ing such a torrent
Of allusions
Weigh more than
I can fiord
A lock-ness monster
On every channel
A rout to cove it
With others’ bayou
For-going more spunky cruise
Yet before I am
Awe a loan
Scarcely able
To creek
I am disposed
To hanker a mist
Opportunity to feel
The rein in my face
A cross
My bow
Slinging my buoyant bones
Beyond sovereigns
So so stately
Powered by the moist awesome winned
Any challenger might face
A salt on any countenance
As wee grow stronger
With every see
That seventh heaven!
And in the end
If you get my drift
In come docked
For missing inaction
My life know more
Than a message in a bottle
Know assurance
That upon my death
Will pay
Cruel comfort
To those left to morn
Until you sea
Your craft is rigged
And waves bigger than you
Bid you
Your sole to leave dry ground
This poem is inspired by the John Shedd quote: “A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for”; as well as the proverb: “Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors.” Of course, there is a parallel narrative weaved within this pun-ridden poem. This parallel narrative speaks to the forces that keep us from setting sail on our dreams, reining us in on shore with seemingly better things to do. In the rough seas of life, may you not merely seek safe harbor, but take the opportunity to hone your sailing skills. The strange inevitability of life is that you won’t make it out alive; so, hopefully, at the end of your life you can pass attest to the thrilling aspects of life, not merely how you kept secure and comfortable til the end.
