Thursday, November 24, 2011


"There comes a time",
said the sage
to the drenched woman,
"to use your arms as oars."

"When the mother of all
storms surges its
crushing waves,
pounding and plowing
across the bow,
and tears through sails
as through your lungs,
and against your ribs
like spars,
it's time to reach
your arms as oars.

Your oars are
smooth and broad,
oak old and oak hard,
polished by oil,
smoothed by sweat,
and molded by toil.

They will guide the bow,
align the sheer,
override the surf,
undermine the tempests,
and hold
the old boat


  1. Bit like digging yourself out of a hole, then? LOL

  2. Yes put the aft to the surge and row like hell is after you, when the wave comes it will lift you over the reef.

  3. smiles...very nice...and a wise sage...and even wiser if the one has prepared those oars in advance...

  4. There's power here, molded by toil, and I can see you keeping the old boat afloat.

  5. Oh yea! Loaded with wisdom and the power of perseverance and so much more in this well crafted poem.