White Horses
By Buzby
The storm that whips the tranquil sea Creeps up with frightening speed On unsuspecting vessels it Unleashes watery greed On salt soaked deck, the sailors work To turn the craft about Through roar of wind and pelt of rain The deck-hand’s voices shout Within the churn a thousand beasts That broil and heave and foam In vain attempts to overturn Those sailing far from home The battle rages through the night Ship versus storm and sea With thunderclaps and lightening bolts To hail each victory Then tempered waters finally calm And sun shines on the boat Now bruised and battle weary, yet Defiantly afloat (First published in Poetry Now, Runner Up in Forward Press Top 100 Poets of 2000) Written October 6th, 2001 © on Oct 05 2001 05:24 PM PST 0 • 10
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"The storm that whips the tranquil sea..."