Why go to sea at all you said?
Why live jealous of the living dead
of the comfort and lack of dread
of the landlubbery?
of men at pubs with friends around
of boys up late with wayward dates
of land below some barefoot feet?
Cause probably most, you see
can only watch the majesty
of waves and sky and southern storms
of death and life and one green light
as they flop before their home T.V.
It’s not the same
they just can’t sea
Here’s a little poem I wrote about sailboat engines while cruising SoPac many years ago…
Ode to INFERNAL Combustion
The smoke and noise, The Devils work
That makes the skipper scream
The smoke and noise the devils work,
Propels along our dreams
The wind and sea and sky are free,
But try to by a part,
Just to make the Devils work,
Sputter, cough and start
Nuts and bolts, injectors too,
Bearings, pumps and belts,
I’ve busted all my knuckles,
And my arms are full of welts,
The smoke and noise, the devils work
Does still refuse to run
The battle isn’t over yet,
I’ll have a little fun
I’ll drink a little bottle full,
A bottle full of rum
And look the the devil in the eye
And say to it by gum
“This game is gettin’ BOORING”
Splash
Your a Mooring!