Saturday, August 03, 2013

Roughing

     Roughing .

It   is   a   ship  slow, wan
 with   barracuda , any time
might  swallow.
Amidst      roughing   and   torpedoes
Of    ghastly  sounds    and   wounds  ;
She is no  Belinda, no  Amanda,
Nor    Delilah .


Some  are  like  shoals
No   ways to  mend.
Cocooned,   and volley
Of  thunderous   clouds 
 Threatening    unsteady :
the  Lighthouse   from  The  Above                                                                        
Prevents from   drifting   away.             

                                    

                    

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