October 31, 2023
Timothy Birdnow
10/30/23
To our alarm warm winds turn cold
and lose their charm as we grow old
the gentle breeze that rocks the trees
will toss our seas in tempest rolled
to tarniished brass it turns our gold
like withered grass our maps unfold
on bended knees, our bells will toll
we make our pleas to save our soul
The captain silent on the dek
whilst tempest rages on our treck
the ages pass the sextant checked
the captain sees our ship won't wreck
The folly of a man is to believe he holds the wheel
when the hourglass sand drips as fast as fate can deal
a ship unmanned will find it's fate soon sealed
trapped on the sand or overweight and keeled
When the cold wind blows one needs a firm hand
when the stars do not show a wise head must find land
wither will you go on the rolling main of the damned?
will you drown with the rats in the hold overcrammed?
will you stow away on the day the insane get their pay? Will you stay in the bay as your skies all turn gray?
will your captain you obey?
will you bow down to pray?
the mate growing horse
while the captian charts the course
soon all the winds will grow calm
as you call out your psalm
on your knees you will cry in remorse
You have sailed to the shore
through the great golden door
all the tempests to cease
as you rest in your peace
Posted by: Timothy Birdnow at
08:37 AM
| Comments (1)
| Add Comment
Post contains 262 words, total size 2 kb.
37 queries taking 0.5562 seconds, 169 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.