enid18 and others wanted more of my drabble Hear Me. Yes, I am lazy, so parts of that poem are included here.
This poem is kind of long... it'll be posted in pieces over the next couple of days.
Disclaimer: I don't own Cooleridge, Winchesters, Conrad, or anyother things I may refrence...
Ready for this?
Rhyme of the Ancient Winchester
Part One: As the Poets put it...
Seven sailors with maritime hobbies
And a wealth of experience disappeared.
Like fish on dry land, we hate it but
We'll work if the job takes here--
We rent a small boat for the day.
Provisions packed, we'll take a look,
No need to hunt, until we know what-
We'll just play it by the book.
How did the poets put it? We were as
'Still as a painted ship on a painted ocean.'
No breath nor motion stirred in the blue,
I should've sensed the coming commotion.
The storm stirred the waves
Brewing like a lover scorned.
The water rose in frothy rage
Under the dark sky, we were torn.
As we were thrown into deep
I reached out blindly for his hand.
Our fingers brushed, but we were lost
In a tide, I hope, that'll carry us to land.
Thrown about like a rag doll,
I cannot say much more.
In the turmoil as I was
Thrown against the rocky floor.
"We got him!"
"Hold his head!"
"Was he the only one?"
"Miracle he ain't dead."
As quick as it was here
The storm is out of sight
And yet waking on a ship
I've just begun to fight.
I am wrapped in a blanket,
To stave off the unnatural chill
Coast Guard rescuers look to me and
All the motion on the ship stills.
A question on my lips-
"Who else did you find?"
"There was no one else."
No! Sam was left behind!
Still barely standing
My lips are bright blue.
"Steady son." They say.
"Sorry, I got work t'do."
"But you were found
Just floating!" they try.
I demand- "Which direction?"
The Coast Guard has to realize.
Yes, I'm tired, yes
I'm sore as hell. But Sam—
I cannot rest until I know
That he is on dry land.
Hear me: Hold on tight.
Help's almost there.
Sam, wherever you are
Don't be scared.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
As the sun rises today,
For but a brief time,
An isle appears to be
Before it's buried in the brine.
Somewhere on this sandy shore,
The sun watches mystified
As long limbs and hazel eyes
Defying curses, struggles to survive.
to be continued