Tags
awareness, choices, Elaine Stirling, ignoring the signs, poetry, prevention of abuse, relationships, self-worth
sweet lady, I hear
you’re taking a cruise
with a man you’ve just
met with a knack for
the blues, see you packing
your best, feel the breeze
of the swing of your
beautiful hips
in these days
leading up to the
launch of the ship
you grow younger
by years, all the
scars of the tracks
of your tears
melt away
while I hope that
your trip brings you
all that you crave
and that what I’m suspecting
is unnecessarily grave
I wouldn’t be much
of a sister now, would I
if I let you sail off with your
dreams on your sleeve
when I see where
he’s planted
the soul of his
wandering feet
ain’t no good
ports of call on
a mental lagoon
it’s not about saying
I’ve been where you’re
going, I haven’t
and it’s not that
we make the wrong
choices, we don’t
what we do is we pack
the wrong clothes for
the season, no screen
for the burns when you
reach the equator and
everything opposite
sails back to meet you
ain’t no good
ports of call on
a mental lagoon
but I know that
you’re going, so here
is a map of the eddies
and linns where the salt
ponds of sadness may
pull you too deep
and here is an
anchor to hold you
through storms, if you
stay in the center, lie
low, you’ll be safe
and finally I give you
this locket of ivory, the
scrimshaw inside in a
script he can’t read
of the truth of you
at the first sign
of blame, the first
indication that maybe
the blues he done wrapped
in his packet of charm
holds an asp
take your locket
to the captain
he’ll know
what to do
ain’t no good
ports of call on
a mental lagoon
© Elaine Stirling, 2013
Image of vintage postcard from zazzle.com
Oceantics 
That hit the spot. 🙂
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Thank you so much, Martyn. The late Ms. Steenkamp was very much on my mind as I wrote this piece, and then I saw her “farewell” comments on YouTube. Surely, we can find a friendlier way to engage with one another. I appreciate your reading and kind words, dear friend.
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Hard to believe the recent news to which you refer, Elaine. Mr. Pastorius seemed such a gentleman. Well, except perhaps during a brief hissy fit after defeat last summer when he blamed length of prosthetics. Innocent until proven guilty, and all that.
But that’s an aside. Love your poem – I found plenty to think about without knowing what was in your mind.
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Very charm-ing poem, full of nautical wisdom. Thanks.
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Thank you, Mikels. Apart from kayaking, I have no useful nautical knowledge, but poetry leans us toward, at least, the possibilities of wisdom.
Martyn, there’s a lighter side to this poem’s conception. I heard a poet friend this morning (whose initials might be GN with a blog called Gavriel’s Muse) use the phrase “mental lagoon”. I leaped all over it. What did you say?! It’s a translation from the even better sounding phrase, in Spanish: “laguna mental”. If that doesn’t beg a poem, I don’t know what does!
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You transformed a mental lagoon into a raging ocean dear Elaine 😉
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A shallow, raging ocean, Gavriel–worst of the worst. It was fun exploring a completely new body of water. 😉
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What a splendid song this is! That light tone of amusement masking the anxiety and the tension – and the sounds of the lines with refrain, the rhythm and the concealed rhymes … splendid!
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Thank you so much, John. The most enjoyable writing for me is that which calls up the memories of playing outside as a kid–adventures have their own rhythm, demons are always conquered, and the loot you bring home in your pocket matters. That’s how writing this poem felt. I’m glad you enjoyed it too.
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