Wynken, Blynken, and Nod (reprise)
They set forth again, the fishermen three,
their chair of seasoned steel, rolling free,
their wheels carrying stories gathered
from seas where frolic once travelled.
Gold in their hair, not from youth’s frame
but from the long sun’s patient flame,
they cast their nets not for silver schools
but for recollection’s wispy spools.
Wynken carries songs of ports remembered,
Blynken charts the stars with care,
Nod reclines, eyes half‑closed,
seeing the horizon as a gentle gate.
No lullaby now, but a tide of years,
each turn a companion, each gust a guide.
They travel into dusk, not to vanish,
but to dwell where sky meets sea.
And if children once dreamed them,
let elders now glimpse their passage:
three fishermen, golden, weathered,
harbourmasters waving to unfurling sails.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 30th, 2025 05:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Wow! A truly masterful poem that in the nostalgia of childhood takes one of fond memories as passenger on life's journey across the seas of time. Growing older as we travel to that distant horizon that seems never to arrive. So carefully set in multiple layers of metaphor it speaks to the inner child now aged and weathered by storms of life. Ripened, greenness gone we mellow in memories no longer searching for what we once longed for but now resting in recollections on a peaceful sea of age. This poem is warm under a patient sun. So much more could be said of this piece, so many meanings to be drawn from its wonderful lines. To cite one would be to neglect another and the whole poem would have to be listed as it is a nursery rhyme for the old that once was young and each letter a fond memory. This one my friend is a fave among faves
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