As I stand on the bow of this,...ship,
the wind cuts my body and the rain stings my face,
but my mind does wander from the drudgery of this dull, grey place,
and I find my sweet bonnie, dressed in ribbons and lace.

I stand in awe of this memory,
this perfect example of natural born grace
as she winks at me slyly with a smile on her face,
and i reach for my bonnie dressed in ribbons and lace.

I become involved in this vision,
as I embrace her body and she kisses my face,
imagination runs wild and my heart starts to race,
and the wind cuts my body and the rain stings my face.

                                                                                   -Still Here

In many poems,
Indeed mine own,
Relationships are defined
As two vessels sailing
In close company,
Plotting the same course
By choice and happiness
Choosing to stay close by,

But in truth a relationship
IS a ship,
A single hull with
Two crew to sail it,
Working together
To maintain the five essentials,
A level hull, with sails and foils well set,
And direction agreed,

Who holds the helm,
The tiller and extension,
That person controls
The direction of travel,
And that has been you,
When you sailed us into danger
My hand was there to guide
Us back from hazard,

Now I am steering
And the course is arrow straight
In lieu of help
Or kind suggestion,
A crew entirely focussed not
Upon the vessel but themself,
And no gentle hand to
Re direct our boat

Nor kind word
Or still small voice of calm
To calm the storm for more
Than a minute,
And that is a shame,
It takes two to tango
Only one to sail a boat,
But it is better by far

With another

I teach others to sail,
Quite literally,
And I am good at that,
Many many people will attest
To my passion and effectiveness,
But sailing is way more
Than just a glorious physicality,
Its a perfect analogy
Of life and love and death,
I also coach and mentor
The lives and loves
The living and doing
Of others,
Also in truth their endings too,
And I offered that best
Of me to you,


But something you seem
To fail to grasp is that whilst
Tacking can be wide,
Deliberate and slow,
Sedate even,
A gybe is the opposite,
Stern to wind,
A boom crashing across
And the cause of many a capsize,
You cannot be gentle gybing
In any kind of proper wind,
Its either one way,
Or it is the other,
It is sudden and immediate and NOW,
So no,
I have not been tacking,
Although at one point maybe
I was going that way,


With an icky feeling
In my heart like
The warning trembling
In a sail's leach,
I am about to gybe,
And it will be sudden,
There will be
A rapid change of direction,
I am a good sailor,
A great seafarer and handler
Of boats
Both real and metaphorical,
So my gybe will be anticlimactic,
Calm even,
But I will be accelerating
Away from you,
Your self centredness,
Your precious secrets,
Your rage,
Months of scorn and derision and accusation,
And while I do not know
My destination,
Indeed in truth I have none,
I do know the seas will quickly
Be much calmer,
The spray far less and that
Without the ice of attitude
And pain,
And at a parting rate of five knots each
In just twenty four hours we will be
Over two hundred miles apart,
I wonder then,
Will you OR I
Find peace?

I lost myself
On an isle of nymphs
And found myself
Only when I rejected,
Every libation offered.
Blinded by decadence,
Focused on filling coffers;
I broke for the ship
Calling to my officers.
Men, your senses are being dulled-
Drunk and high, doing as you're told.
Lucidity take hold! Freedom is close,
We need only embark
Loose the sails & start
The journey out among the stars

Roaming the rolling sapphire,
Thoughts of home & the bereaved.
Under tide they sink.
Spit back into that grand basin,
Give a good greeting to Poseidon,
Lift up your cup & drink;
To the fathoms we eclipsed,
The journey facing.
** & heave,
Waves crash against the hull
Letting on water;
I've never much cared for
Admitting defeat in the presence
Of overwhelming odds,
I'd rather die on my feet
Bravely meeting the Gods

Lost and free our love should be
Strength in 'we' are hopes and dreams
And if winds blew or when they do
On gusts, I’m ****** to write

A line or two in thought of you

And if it were that words fall short
Let them sail toward soulless ports
For ships are that, deprived of crew
And still I write

A line or two in thought of you

Lost adrift in search of land
You are my earth, you are my sand
And if we sink as boats will do
Then first I’ll write

A line or two in thought of you

If swept away, if drowned or swallowed
It’s here I say press down your sorrows
And when they swell as sorrows do
I’ve written words but far too few

A line or two, in thought of you:

Leap with me into the sea
Set sail, set sail...

and just like that
off we went
setting our course
for uncharted waters

full to the brim
with hopes, ideas, memories
free at last
of values, tastes, prejudices
that weren’t even ours, to begin with

a mere word, said en passant,
was the very wind filling our sails
our hearts the wheel
our eyes the rudder

whatever storms we might face,
whatever perils lie in wait,
we shall overcome

for the ship we’re on
is called ‘love’

My Heart was Torn and Broken
with Wounds all over My Skin.
She floored and kicked My Feelings.
Thus burning My spirits Within.
Alone is the Word, that I've become.
Sailing a Boat that's lost at Sea.
I loved Her more than My Life itself,
She was the whole Universe to Me.
My Nights are Long and Lonely.
With a Sun that hardly Shines.
But what good, is the Sun to Me.
When I keep sipping on Red Wines.
My Tears now keep trickling,
as Time keeps passing By.
All I need now, is a small Corner.
Where I can Sit, to Sob and Cry.

Man.
Woman.
Ghost.
Little wind in their sail.

Boat.
Watercraft.
Impulse.
Limited space on board.

Free from heart. Free from clothes.
Drunk together for a swim.
Errant, disinterested kiss, planted
under the keel.
A sparse ****** isosceles is struck.
Parts are muted and slit-eyed.
Parts are surface tension.
Parts are counterparts.
She pulls away, running below deck
and vigorously brushing her teeth
before weeping.
The razor of night struggles to sleep.
The sharp object thrown overboard.
No one wants to be first or last.

"We're out of words and moons and stars, there's no tenderness in us..." she said. "When did our love become the stab of ultimatum?"