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The Mariner's Bread

Kenneth has a taste for abstract/prose poetry as well as the comical side of life. 23-years of writing for a newspaper has served him well.

the-mariners-bread

" . . .and here, I sit. I roam. I gaze at the circle of the seas and

without seeing life in them and wondering if and when they may

end . . ."

— Unknown

I smell my sweat that grows in my wrinkled hands

No matter. She's a memory and I have my ship

On this last voyage, strange. I own no other lands.

So why dear innocence, must we make this

dreadful trip?


Dashing up and swallowed down . . .we hold the line

Salt and salty talk gets a blood so hot

Cursed be her threat--no time to sit, sip or shine.

I am what I am, no more. No less. So what?


My sole ally in twenty voyages true, maybe more

Ol' Cracker, now going on 14 harsh years.

Myself, I see the sod, the sheep, a drink, a last door.

But she sits in dark closet fine and counts her shiny tears.


All this old Irishman asked at voyage end

Is a bite of bread, maybe a crumb

My first mate, Karl, he looks gray and terribly thin.

While she pouts her girlish eyes while I was

Made to look the role of a roving bum . . .


I sip a hefty swig of vintage ale and tell you about reality

I would lie, but my own soul would hate it.

Another hefty swig, and you want me to name some infidelity?

Some rope burns, another wheel turn, a plate of day-old grits.


All that I want from my master's log--is not a beef steak or meat of hog

Is just a cut of bread--the bread that wafts through the town

Whilst I just turn my wheel, stand firm on heels, and avoid the bog.

And in my dream, I see "her" again, hair so combed and legs so long.


She's no princess, fellas. I tell you the truth, my ship mates so true

She's the fox, a phantom light, a shadow in river's light.

While her words from tongue are just lies and soggy dew.

Oh, for a crust of her table's bread, I dream in April's plight.


Round trip, this time will be final, Karl, ol' buddy of mine

You've been true, ol' parrot friend from year to year.

And even now, Yancey Blue shall tie main line.

And go to see "her" get my bread and kiss her head

goodbye . . .

the-mariners-bread

© 2018 Kenneth Avery

Comments

Kenneth Avery (author) from Hamilton, Alabama on June 03, 2018:

@Sneha -- thank you sincerely, my Great Friend. I really appreciate it. Keep in touch with me.

Sneha Sunny from India on June 03, 2018:

@Kenneth.. Yeah, I know what you went through. I followed all the threads in the forum by other hubbers, as well as the one posted by you. I'm so glad that you are here with us. Take rest and don't stress yourself.

I will pray for your health. :)

Kenneth Avery (author) from Hamilton, Alabama on June 02, 2018:

Hello, Gypsy Rose Lee -- thank you for ALL

of your kindnesses. What a Dear Friend you are.

I am going to bed soon and going to sleep for

a long time.

Sometimes, and you and Sneha, as well as any of

my Wonderful Followers know that sometimes we

can get so drained emotionally that just sitting still

and staring at a resting butterfly is the greatest

highlight of any day.

This is how I am right now.

And Dear Gypsy, stay close to me. Thanks.

Kenneth Avery (author) from Hamilton, Alabama on June 02, 2018:

Hi, Dear Sneha -- thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for asking about my health. I am under the care of a heart specialist, two nurse practitioners, a surgeon who shoots pain shots in my back every three months and my friend, I am very tired.

The doctors at the last hospital told me that I had a stroke, but thanks to Our Creator, I am still here.

Come by anytime. And my sailing days are over.

Sneha Sunny from India on May 26, 2018:

"She's no princess, fellas. I tell you the truth, my ship mates so true

She's the fox, a phantom light, a shadow in river's light."

I love it! I imagined the whole thing!

And, I just wanted to know how are you doing now?

Gypsy Rose Lee from Daytona Beach, Florida on May 26, 2018:

Enjoyed this poetic journey very much. Hope you and yours are having a wonderful Memorial Day weekend.

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