From the Abyss

“Water!  Captain, I need water!”

“Higgins, get this man some water.”

“There’s your water.  Now, get back to rowing.  You’d be wise to do what you’re told and not complain about it.”

“Aye, Captain.”

He’d learn a lesson right quick, if I tossed him down in the hold, the Captain thought. 

The ship’s rigging strained and creaked.  Sea water made the decks slippery.

“Higgins, see what the prisoners are hollerin’ about.  Be quick about it–unless you’re desiring to be down there with ’em.”

It had been a tough pathway from prisoner to deckhand.

Scattered about the ocean floor were the bones of those that dared break the chains of command.

 

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CONCH & BARNACLES

conch
Cozy seaside
Cottages with
Weathered
Picket fences
Conch talisman
Reminded
Colorfully
Charactered
Barnacle Bills
Popeye, the sailors
Captain Crunches
Of days, weeks
On merciless seas
Tides of popularity
Rose, fame was
Fleeting, caught up
In life’s constant cycle
From, hero to scapegoat
And, back home again

DOORS

The doorThe landing smelled
Of, the sea, sweat
Sisal rope, diesel fuel
Old wooden door
Rude storage building
Only a seafarer
Could love
Kept things in
Kept things out

Red and blue
Pigments faded
Wood grains roughened
Door moldings warped
Under pressure
But, didn’t break

Toughened sailors
Held to tradition
Passed through
This doorway
To opportunity
Or disappointment
With regularity of tides
In and out, everyday