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Tony Grist

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Related To The Previous Post [May. 22nd, 2007|01:40 pm]
Tony Grist



 Finlay the poet was born on a schooner

(His dad ran rum in the dry Bermoothes)

He was my friend for a brief, brief while-


The sundial that he made for us

Has its gnomon shaped like a bending sail.


What I wrote him was preachy. He never wrote back.

No loss of friendship hurt me as much

Till Snakey ditched us, our very best friend-

Our all but daughter.


The wind fills the sail.

It fills it with nothing, with nothing but force


White bellied sail like cumulus-

Like a girl near term.


Eliza Carthy

Is singing of Kidd,  most famous of pirates.

He burned and he robbed and he murdered he says

As I sailed, as I sailed.


As if in a dream, in a dream of sailing.


The sails go up river. The sails go down river-

War ship and lighter and pleasure craft-

Past Kidd in his cage on the gibbet at Wapping.


She stamps as she sings and it brings her to tears.


[User Picture]From: jackiejj
2007-05-31 07:59 pm (UTC)
The rhythm of this poem captivated me-and the images--"The sails go up river. The sails go down river-"

His dad ran rum in the dry Bermoothes)

Proud to be your friend...

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