Monday, March 11, 2013

Ship Building.

           Ship Building.

In my minds eye,
Sparks of ferrous steel fly,
Mig welders light the sky,
Working tediously,
This piece of marine ply,
And o'er the docklands,
You I spy.

Have these fingers cold,
Shown up for work,
Young and old,
So bold,
Earn gold,
As lives flutter in the wind,
Or so I'm told,
Scabby fingers now I hold,
To tell a tale,
Where we'll unfold,
A story wrecked again,
To sailing vessel
Magnificence untold.

Dark December nights,
Hours to finish,death
The hull of death,
Drunken sailor fights,
To be the boy
That she invites, invites
To spend a time
On lonely nights,
Fish net tights,
And bedroom lights,
Cabin fever sickness bites.

Tortured metal stands alone,
Her body, everyone has known,
Tired echoes make her moan,
List in dry dock,
The dog gets its bone,
Covered by the spumy foam,
On now deserted planks,
That split and groan, alone,
Not yet resting home,
Where eerie chatter I'd not own,
Took me to the mental home.