The Fisherman
The sea swelled and splashed
Against the hull of the boat
With its green net mountain
Disappearing into foaming waters
The fisherman’s hope and security
An old sea dog salted
And weather beaten from a
Lifetimes toil upon the waters
Times of hardships furrowed upon the brow
His story told by scarred hands
He respects the sea
Which has taken many a soul
Bowing his head in mournful grace
For comrades long gone by
In this forsaken element
Names inscribed on the memorial wall
Baptised at a tender fourteen
Saltwater dripping from forehead
As his arms ache from the harvesting
Proud to be gone from boy to man
Conquer of all that rises
from the living sea
Shimmering and glistening on deck
Pride on his fathers face
Now decades gone, no more to come
He will be spoken of in years to come
His eyes as deep as the Ocean
Have glanced their last trip.
by Robin McNamara © 2018
Robin McNamara Poet 