On the Edge
Diesel engine thrum
rides us out to sea
blue sky azure ocean
light breeze
We rock all day braced
against the tide roll
heavy poles in hand
fish die desperately
Beautiful fish bloody
hooked gaffed stabbed
Bonita bleed profusely
to the crew they are fish
we are their predators
Born from the sea today
sleepy drunkard I see
I expected thunder from
a prophet who mends
and binds me to him
There are no prophets
personal or public
who lead us away
from the edge
I like that last line, in particular. This flows well.
ReplyDeleteIn the end the decisions are up to us and so will we be judged. It was fascinating that you took a fishing expedition to set your scene.
ReplyDeleteIt's always interesting how the words take us all in different directions. I like that last stanza - best to listen to ourselves to stay away from the edge!
ReplyDeleteLoved the closing lines...
ReplyDeletedoggy tales
I too love the last stanza! Nicely done!
ReplyDeleteCan sleepy drunkards be born from the sea? What a fascinating image!
ReplyDeleteMy Sunday Whirl
Sadly this is so true. And we are nearly toppling over it...........
ReplyDelete