At The Bottom Of The Bay
At the bottom of Casco Bay is a tomb. The Don sleeps in her watery grave. The locals tell, in their own way How a pleasure cruise on a Sunday, Entombed thirty four people with no warning. Basking on the forward deck, Otto McKenzie and his wife, Took in the whales sounding, Toward the starboard bow, Out off the rocky shoals. My, what a great day for a jaunt! Over on the port side gulls Floated on the near placid waters. There are those that say a boat trip, Hampered not by worry is Eternally sound and close to heaven. But somehow catastrophe struck, As sometimes happens in even tranquil times. Years passed and still The Don sleeps on.
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Alligator Infested Water
Off to the right of our pirogue
an alligator slid off the banks,
soft splash, a bumpy-log
followed in our wake.
We polled near the inlet
of Lake Pontchartrain,
fishing and story telling.
"Look out, here comes
another big one.
We used to catch them
in the canals with chicken
when I was a boy..."
Yup here comes another
big one, I thought.
The evening shadows
grew longer
and the tales got taller,
as we basked in the perfection
of a Louisiana
summer evening.
Off to the right of our pirogue
an alligator slid off the banks,
soft splash, a bumpy-log
followed in our wake.
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Ocean First View
If I had known
It was the last time I would see you
Dear ocean,
I would have saved the memory,
Like a bottle enclosed
Note:
Slowly slipping away
With the tides.
If I could remember
The first time I saw you,
Dear ocean,
I would resurrect the memory
As something beautiful
and monumental.
Life has slipped away
With the tides.
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