This column is dedicated to one of the highest art forms in the sphere of human communication—Poetry. Nothing is nobler than the expression of human emotion. All poetry is perfect, no matter what the format or the background of the poet. A voice is a voice. With poetry, you get more than words. You get rhythm, you get sound, you get silence, you get mood—you get emotion. What more can you ask? This column is also dedicated to all the people who have ever lived, those here now, and those yet to come. God bless the poets among you. They carry the soul of the world.Contact us if you would like to share your poems.
Dry-DockedDry-Docked - The natural course of a human's life is understood but unexpected. Signposts along the way are markers of our destiny.
Where is the man who fished the sea,
The man who flung his net over throbbing swells,
Harvesting Neptune’s fruit?
The sun no longer casts his shadow on the pier.
His vessel lies dry-docked on the harbor shore,
The hull filled with rainwater,
The lines wandering in disarray,
Never again to feel the Master's touch.
A life is spent, the years are gone,
Strength and spirit traded for his sustenance,
He knew in one moment that he could no longer pull the oar or hoist the sail,
And the time had come to accept the ebbing tide.