Alcohol breath
The oil rig flame
Far from shore
And shipyards grave
The rusted ghosts
Barnacled lair
Stand as tombstones
Rigid stare.
The crab pots
Wickered frame
Shiver in the wind
As yet untamed
Old rope
Knots still tied
Breathe heavy
Upon rising tide.
From the past
Striking metal speaks
Echoing in
The air that creaks
Shimmering lights
From boats afar
A clear night
A watching star.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Online) - Published: January 7th, 2026 03:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Online)
Comments1
A fine descriptive write N.
thanks, appreciated
I've never seen a rusty ghost - have you?! lol.
only when its damp lol
Did you hear the rust of his metal - maybe coat of armour from days of old?! lol.
he seemed quite modern, had an iphone
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