THE
STORM
Mounting waves and crashing seas,
The ship is tossed and thrown.
Our lives are held by one small thread...
The Captain and his throne.
The winds so violent rage and tear
At he tiller and the hull.
Our bodies bent, we sweat and strain...
To keep our ship afloat.
Our fear is held within ourselves,
No one can make a move,
Until the mounting monsters die...
Before the floating tomb.
Onward into darkness thick...
The black and inky gloom.
Our ship is lost in misting seas...
Before the waning moon.
Shrouded figures dance and play
Upon the seas at night...
Are we blinded by the misting seas,
Or blinded by our fright.
Eerie creatures with no form
Have sent us into flight.
But tell me friend, where can you run...
When to lead there is no light?
Neptune calls and creatures bawl
Their sad and mournful tune.
Upon the cresting waves we ride...
Into impending doom!
I'll tell you one and tell you all,
If you should value life...
Do not be caught upon the seas
On a black and stormy night!
Unless you're sailing
A West Wight Potter, right?
by
T. K. Ponts
Have a Great New Year !
Wes Harrison
P-19 FriendShip
Sunnyvale CA