Poeticpiers
09-17-2003, 03:26 PM
Jetsam.
The sea recedes and leaves behind
along the highest water mark
treasures for beachcombers to find.
Sea shells, driftwood and sometimes
old plastic floats from fishing boats
and even coins from far gone times.
When there has been a storm at sea
and angry waves have lashed the shore,
you never know what there might be
left high and dry for you to find.
Each day I search my local beach
to exercise my legs and mind.
I look for curiosities
that I can keep for interest.
The one I have that I like best
A piece of scrimshaw carved I’m told
on whaling boats to pass the time
by hardy seafarers of old.
Whose boats sailed from the River Tyne
an industry that is no more.
By right of finding it is mine.
I’ve sea worn pebbles smooth as glass
a cutlass handle with no blade,
a wooden chest that’s bound in brass.
I’ve never found a treasure hoard
I don’t suppose I ever will
but it keeps me from getting bored
The sea recedes and leaves behind
all that it does not take away.
A mess of jetsam unrefined.
The sea recedes and leaves behind
along the highest water mark
treasures for beachcombers to find.
Sea shells, driftwood and sometimes
old plastic floats from fishing boats
and even coins from far gone times.
When there has been a storm at sea
and angry waves have lashed the shore,
you never know what there might be
left high and dry for you to find.
Each day I search my local beach
to exercise my legs and mind.
I look for curiosities
that I can keep for interest.
The one I have that I like best
A piece of scrimshaw carved I’m told
on whaling boats to pass the time
by hardy seafarers of old.
Whose boats sailed from the River Tyne
an industry that is no more.
By right of finding it is mine.
I’ve sea worn pebbles smooth as glass
a cutlass handle with no blade,
a wooden chest that’s bound in brass.
I’ve never found a treasure hoard
I don’t suppose I ever will
but it keeps me from getting bored
The sea recedes and leaves behind
all that it does not take away.
A mess of jetsam unrefined.