Sunday, October 13, 2013

On the Edge

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 


  1. I like that last line, in particular. This flows well.

  2. In 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.

  3. It'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!

  4. I too love the last stanza! Nicely done!

  5. Can sleepy drunkards be born from the sea? What a fascinating image!

    My Sunday Whirl

  6. Sadly this is so true. And we are nearly toppling over it...........