Posted by Admin on 25 May 2006, 12:00 am
Gamboge masts rear high and domineer
the marina.
For’ard, puppet figures climbing ratlines
tread gingerly, as if unused to heights.
Bolder men, yard high, edge along the
footropes, U-bent over a clewed-up sail.
Below, the vessel’s hull, mole-grey,
nudging a pontoon, transmits no needle
vacillation across a cloud-banked sky.
Brooding, quay-based there, I
think of Commerce, nitrate barque,
Chile bound – and see her nineteenth century
bucko-mate, bully-booted, fearless,
hazing laggards to alacrity.
Other times, other mariners.
From The Hounds of Cridmore and Other Isle of Wight Poems, a book of Mr Hudson’s poetry with many illustrations by Heather Cobb.
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
This work may not be reproduced without prior permission of the author.
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