Published by Mea Nicole Osias
Date Published: December 22, 2022
Time Published: 10:14 AM
Category: Poetry
Theme: Laborer and Iniquity
All hands to the deck and pump!
His dead ringer voice screeching around—
Peeking across the dust and clouds;
Only dwells the shadows of its burgees and shroud.
He flaunts the rope and lurches it with fould;
For he helms the doldrums with a strike,
As he lights up the wood—
And steers through the darkest sight.
He stands in a dark pit under a briny deep—
Waves of horror slug him on his face and clad,
Where he endures the damp and clepe,
Hands at a standstill— anchoring by a shad.
Abiding by kismet aligned on him;
He loses the flair to take the con of lead,
Getting drowned by the awry dim,
Stowing away his flesh and dread.
Towards the bow of the ship—across the line of the sea;
He looks out for a rum and sails the deepest depth.
Photo by: John Lloyd Rondilla
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