A ship sails in sight

Oh that I would drownèd be
Wrecked on lonely shore is me
Dressed in rags no sustenance
Such terrible happenstance
Not one soul to accompany me

Shelter shelter I must find
Lest I fail in this cruel wind
Cursing captain and the crew
That met this storm for they knew
The sea is not always kind

Palm fronds shall my shelter be
Coconut to comfort me
Blow wind blow go blow away
Let me see a sunlit day
Now saved I am from the sea

What speech this, not heard before
As I awake upon the shore
Oh no! The natives of this place
Will surely show death's cruel face
Not give me some succour

They jabber and laugh with glee
Then they pull me to my feet
I see some now fishing by
The tide is now at its high
Children run to look at me

They poke their hands in my skin
And scamper off all laughing
The women now come to stare
I gulp seeing breasts all bare
They chatter and all do grin

Before long I'm one of them
Accepted they do not condemn
My clumsy tongue and strange ways
One girl sets my heart ablaze
I love her she is a gem

One day a ship sails in sight
Now I'm fearful of my plight
Should I sail with them again?
No this is my home, no pain
I'll not leave my future's bright

As always my mind takes me on adventurous journeys and the prompt word "Despair'" although not used is implied in the first four verses and the last of course! It is best to read this with an 18th century English accent! Verses rhyme 1,1,2,2,1. 

Image 1 found at www.gettyimages.com

Guests that stay too long

Still they come to this barren land

From teeming cities, swamp and sand

Their desire for freedom so intense

Despite the dangers and expense

Their worries far outweigh the dangers

Despite our history of bushrangers

They come to leave behind war and strife

And of course to seek a better life

But with welcome here they do not get

High seas and navy patrols see them met

Then to remote internment camps are sent

In this land compassion is quite absent

There is a far better way and wiser

To arrive by plane with a temporary visa

To work or even take a blissful holiday

Overstay your welcome, you might be okay

Image fro, www.theaustralian.com.au

The grave man

Have I lost your love

After all these years is it over

Is it written in stone?

 

Tears fall like petals

As I ponder in sadness

And cry to the moon

 

In the pit of grief

The howling winter cold calls

And I am shut out

 

My peak of despair

Please free the locks on your heart

Else I’m a grave man

 

You may ask me what happened to the 12^th word “Staff”. This word did not sit well with me after the grave man line which cried out “stop now!”  But if you insist the last verse is:

 

So I walk away

I strike my staff on the ground

My face to the wind

 

 

 

 

Garry the Provider

Garry's face was in the dirt. He had never felt so embarrassed before. He lay on his stomach with his hands handcuffed behind his back. All around him were onlookers; standing, staring speaking...about him! By his side stood one of the arresting officers. Behind him he knew there were two patrol cars, their flashing lights illuminating the pavement with repeated bursts of blue.

He wept with shame and humiliation. He had bungled the hold up. It had been going so well, only a few customers and a teller that did as she was told. He even had the money in his hands. So much money there must have been thousands. Everything had been going to plan. They had certainly obeyed him with that replica pistol in his hand. He felt so good and strong then. He had been ten foot tall and so powerful, but now...what had gone wrong?

"Come on lad, on your feet now!"

He struggled to get up with his arms pinned behind him. He felt a hand on his shoulder and one at his elbow as he slowly rose, first to a kneeling position and then standing.

He stumbled as he was pushed toward the police vehicle. A hand was placed on his head to avoid it hitting the door frame. He then fell back into the seat. Helpless, the seat belt was fastened around for him and the car drove off.

All Garry could think of on the journey to the lock up was Jenny and their baby daughter Bonnie. His little Babs, his Baby Boo. He felt the tears coming again. He had only done it for them, to give them a decent home and food and clothes and toys.

What would Jenny do now? How would she manage? She couldn't go back to that cow of a mother. Not after all the rows they had had about him.

And his parents? They would slam the door in her face. They weren't worth a pinch of shit. Rhonda his sister might help but how could he tell Jenny that now?

"Did you say something, son?"

Garry's mumbling had attracted the officer at his side. With his head still bowed Garry slowly shook his head.

"Won't be long now and you'll be tucked up in a nice little cell," sneered his companion. The two police officer winked at each other in the rear view mirror. The one by Garry's side turned and spoke to him again.

"Looks as though you're in for some care and attention. No more nights on the street for you, eh?"

No, not for me, thought Garry.


(Pastel impression by author of a recent European news photo. )