Fog Revisited
Fog is a cloud on the ground,
Save when it clouds man’s mind
It confuses the raging battle
The horn sounds on Michigan’s shores ripping the soul from body
Crushing the heart with sonorous vibration
The fog billows over the hushed waters,
Lapping of small waves against dirty sands
The fog hides ship killers
The mariner’s wife will cry tonight
Her sailor sleeps in Michigan’s icy depths
Fog is a cloud on the ground
Save when it clouds man’s mind
posted by The Phosgene Kid @ 5:55 AM
8 comments
8 Comments:
Wow. Powerful poetry there phos.
*thumbs up*
Great Lakes fog. I remember it. Living in Toronto. Phosgene, where I live now we are in the fog about every 3 days. I hate it because it means no airplane, and no airplane means no groceries, especially of the alcoholic variety.
My wife cries too.
Jin: Thank you! I wrote that about 20 years ago and just added on to it a bit.
Nanuk: We almost had liquor flown out of the airport here, but the police arrested the pilot and co-pilot before they took off – the liquor was inside them. Maybe you could bring groceries and booze in via pack-moose or something. My wife cries alot too, but I don't think it's the groceries...
Wowzers. Very sad. :'{
T&B!! Holy shit, you are abck - I was about to send out the calvary, really missed you!!!
Lol, thanks PK! :-D
I'm trying to find another job; might help with not posting but once a week. :-)
I am getting kind of restless myself...
Are you going on a job hunt, then?
If yes, keeping my fingers and toes crossed for you.
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