Tempest Tossed
Faith in tribulation
Tempest-Tossed
Inside those half-dreaming lids
where man attempts
to find some kinship
and wakes,
eyes wide…
There lies a common thread
that binds us all together
enduring,
eternal.
Though trials and circumstance
afflict us sorely,
The Captain is still in command.
I lie, a storm-cursed sailor
tired of dreams…
But waiting
in the guts of me
to see dry land.
© stormwolf 2023
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On first reading I was of the opinion of others on here, thinking ‘guts’ wasn’t quite right, didn’t fit with the first two verses, but having read your answers and rereading it I can understand why you used it, and it fits perfectly with the sailor tired of dreaming and desperate for a safe dry harbour. Great poem, really enjoyed it. Sue 🙂
Hi Sue, When first posted this poem, it was very much honed by crit from Griff (not about guts BTW) 😉 who awarded me a VERY rare “Griffpick” and it also got a badge from dear Sunks who i miss very much. It was nibbed too but readership changes and what appeals to some does not appeal to others. The poem starts off describing the nebulous fear that can afflict us and at times like that, we hope to find comfort but the ‘eyes wide’ implies that some cannot. I then go on to maintain that (in my world view… Read more »
A really good extended metaphor here in the tempest tossed, storm-cursed sailor trying to stifle/escape his fears. Terrific visual too. Excellent. The only words/phrases I wondered about were kinship and ‘tired of dreams’. I see that both tie into the ‘common thread that binds’ – but is it really kinship he seeks, or actual dreams he is ‘tired of” ? Or something more particular/specific? Not a big deal though. Great ending. I’m all for the guts of me stuff! Reminds me I have that very phrase in an early poem of mine ( maybe my second ever write!), added to… Read more »
Not sure what you mean by ” something more particular/specific?” To explain, the sailor is not attempting to find kinship, he already knows it’s there but realises that some don’t. The ‘half dreaming lids’. refers to the strange state between waking and sleeping when all sort of perceptions can come…some can be scary as they come from the deep unconscious many times. I then (the sailor) go on to profess a faith that even when we are very troubled and may feel lost (tempest tossed) the greater power remains in commend. The last stanza becomes more personal. I am tired… Read more »