Thursday, March 2, 2017

____________________ WHEN THE CENTRE HOLDS ___________________

The joy speaks clearly
each time I sail,
the rhythm of wind,
the waves beating a unique
timbre in the heart of this old sailor,
a paradox of bustling bow wave 
and rustle of sail,
resolving themselves in 
 noisy silence.

4 comments:

Dan Gurney said...

Nice poem. For me the sounds of sailing are part of what makes it so special, and the quietness of mind that receives the mingled voices of moving wind and water.

Kate said...

Lovely Pome. Almost exclusively I have been reading the Aubrey-Maturin (Patrick O'Brian) novels over and over (all 20 of them) for the last five or so years. Thus I am metaphorically and literarily immersed in sails and salt spray daily. I even swear

Kate said...

... in 'sailor' when I am alone ha ha.

Alden Smith said...

Thank you Kate and Dan, sharing ones own poems is a risky business, so I am pleased that you both found it worthy of comment.

Dan, you are right - the sounds of sailing are certainly part of the enchantment, it's noise never sounds or feels like an intrusion.

Kate, Aubrey-Maturin (Patrick O'Brian) is someone I haven't heard of but this is how a lot of my reading in informed, by other people, so I shall try reading one of his..... and glad to hear you are bathing daily in salt and exercising the sailors virtue of swearing - next thing you will be dancing hornpipes and making scrimshaw.