At Sea

Reflections from the chronicles

David Rudder
Apr 15 · 2 min read

As I read his diaries,
It felt like I was there
Bound for San Francisco
There on a wing and prayer.

There with my great, great grandfather
Aboard this sailing ship
A Barque named the “Harrison”
I’d joined them on the trip.

I’m out at sea and we can’t see
The land in summer haze
We’re drifting in the tropics
When minutes turn to days.

The captain has lost our respect
The crew’s a motley lot
The ships dead in the doldrums
The weather’s stinking hot.

We’re headed for America
The land of milk and honey
Gold we seek up in the hills
We’re in it for the money.

The year is 1849
The ship’s the “Harrison”
A poorly converted whaler
Is now our garrison.

Damned if I do damned if I don’t
I keep my temper quelled
What I want to really say
I keep safely withheld.

When we reach the shore my boys
In San Francisco city
We’ll forge a trail searching for gold
Then we’ll be sitting pretty.

Dreams are drawn from boredom
A better place to be
Than floating on this wretched craft
Sea as far as we can see.

Word by word, like a bird
I hovered with the sense
I could soar towards shore
And sense the suspense.

Copyright reserved

David Rudder
15th April 2021

Thanks for reading.

David Rudder

Written by

I enjoy exploring my mind by being a diarist and writing a daily poem to reflect my thoughts…

Woodworkers of the World Unite!!!

A place for duuudes of all sexes, ages, religions, and coffee-preferences to hang out and shoot the sh!t about their latest creations, to brag, lament, query, or quote, it’s all good…

David Rudder

Written by

I enjoy exploring my mind by being a diarist and writing a daily poem to reflect my thoughts…

Woodworkers of the World Unite!!!

A place for duuudes of all sexes, ages, religions, and coffee-preferences to hang out and shoot the sh!t about their latest creations, to brag, lament, query, or quote, it’s all good…

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