Tide Tales
I sit at the sea in a tiny boat,
With a fishing rod and in my brown coat,
The tides' tussle hum like siren singers!
Fish-less, bait-less, while the winter lingers.
The seagulls watching from sky, chuckling-
While even sea foam giggles, bubbling,
Is the sea as green as my seasick face?
I check if my hands look cold blue, in case.
I would even welcome a shark right now,
Even pirates will get a hearty bow!
Yet all I get is the sea's salty spray,
Sea spitting raspberries, joining the fray.
Sighing, I start packing my fishing rod,
But, stop as it somehow catches a cod!
It thrashes in attack at rod half packed,
And under the waves my sole rod gets dragged.
"You think that would stop me!" I shake my fist,
"Oh! When will you learn?" the waves crash and twist.
Next day I return with a weighted net,
Bringing fishes back home, my goal is set.
From today's dark grey sky, the seagulls hide,
Minding it not, I throw the net star-side.
I see the rope-less net just as it falls,
Powerless, as the net sinks to sea halls.
I oar back home, having lost our wager,
By now plotting of new ways to badger.
Huffing, puffing, I heave the heavy oars,
To enjoy my rest ere oncoming wars.
A sudden tailwind pushes me shoreward,
And the helpful waves urge my oars onward.
I think I have won a new friend today—
Delight, like having an early birthday.
Now I know it is not kind nor unkind,
The sea's not to such mortal traps confined,
For such an ancient thing it's like a child,
Now and then serene, but oftentimes wild.
We continue for years thirty and one,
A score of wagers lost; a dozen won.
Until I am too frail to row again,
And so, on shore I feel my friend's tear stain.
Jan 1, 2025
Jan 1, 2025 at 11:22 AM UTC
Tide Tales
I sit at the sea in a tiny boat,
With a fishing rod and in my brown coat,
The tides' tussle hum like siren singers!
Fish-less, bait-less, while the winter lingers.
The seagulls watching from sky, chuckling-
While even sea foam giggles, bubbling,
Is the sea as green as my seasick face?
I check if my hands look cold blue, in case.
I would even welcome a shark right now,
Even pirates will get a hearty bow!
Yet all I get is the sea's salty spray,
Sea spitting raspberries, joining the fray.
Sighing, I start packing my fishing rod,
But, stop as it somehow catches a cod!
It thrashes in attack at rod half packed,
And under the waves my sole rod gets dragged.
"You think that would stop me!" I shake my fist,
"Oh! When will you learn?" the waves crash and twist.
Next day I return with a weighted net,
Bringing fishes back home, my goal is set.
From today's dark grey sky, the seagulls hide,
Minding it not, I throw the net star-side.
I see the rope-less net just as it falls,
Powerless, as the net sinks to sea halls.
I oar back home, having lost our wager,
By now plotting of new ways to badger.
Huffing, puffing, I heave the heavy oars,
To enjoy my rest ere oncoming wars.
A sudden tailwind pushes me shoreward,
And the helpful waves urge my oars onward.
I think I have won a new friend today—
Delight, like having an early birthday.
Now I know it is not kind nor unkind,
The sea's not to such mortal traps confined,
For such an ancient thing it's like a child,
Now and then serene, but oftentimes wild.
We continue for years thirty and one,
A score of wagers lost; a dozen won.
Until I am too frail to row again,
And so, on shore I feel my friend's tear stain.