Nightmares

Poem By Andrew Shiston

In the darkness of the night
Lit by a three quarter moon
The swirling mist hovers
Over rough and ready cobbles
Like old fired cannon-smoke
Ghostly shadows of fighting ships
Clinging to the quay, fallen ancient castles
Masts of tallest red-wood trees
Arms stretched in disarray
A drawbridge of battered sodden wood
With spliced and knotted rope
Drunken press-ganged sailors
Board this shadow of sorrow and no hope
The mist now lightens
With the coming of the morn
Flood tide has reached the top of ebb
The cannon-shot of falling sail
Hemp and three-fold purchase fall upon the deck
Pennants proud, red-wood of mast and castle
Spars with canvas flapping, filling
Sail as fading shadows
Into the hungry seas and coming dawn

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Other poems of SHISTON

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This Island, this out-thrust spit of land
At the end of miles of stone
Where on the farthest cliff-top
A lighthouse stands alone

The Ship

The sky grows dark, seagulls scream
The wind begins to howl
The storm is close, we cringe with fear
The sea grows larger still

A Symphony Of A Storm

The lightning and crashing of thunder
And squalls of gale force wind
Leave the sea a striped peppermint humbug
To a horizon the eye cannot see

A Day In Late Spring

The fog is lifting and the foghorn silent
On the point of Portland Bill
The lighthouse light extinguished
Only seagulls now are shrill

Drowned

From many fathoms deep
In the dark and dismal depths
Where day and sunlight disappear
Lays a rusting rotten wreck

Quiet Of The Morning

As the mist swirls in the valleys
And drifts across the fields
The ghostly shadows harden
And the ancient trees appear