Good point :-)
- Thread starter HERSH
- Start date
Who says? they swim fine in my dreams.
I never sail on full moon nights. What, that's another scary made up story member?
I get these thing confused - But - got to give credit to who ever made up the sign, pretty good indeed!
I never sail on full moon nights. What, that's another scary made up story member?
I get these thing confused - But - got to give credit to who ever made up the sign, pretty good indeed!
With or without zombies... (which in fact, are a rare form of non-bio luminescence)
...Night sailing is awesome!!!
...Night sailing is awesome!!!
Juxtaposition:
It's late Friday night, about 2 AM. We have a light southwest
breeze tonight and the water is glassy smooth.
The moon has set and what few lights there are around the
lake are barely visible.
It's easy to imagine oak planks beneath bare feet, canvas sails,
the smell of tar and salt as we glide silently across the water.
I'm thinking this is what it must have been like 200 years past,
a wooden ship sailing by the stars alone.
The stars...
Looking up and searching the familiar constellations I notice a
tiny speck of white light moving steadily across the heavens.
The International Space Station is sailing across the twenty-
first century sky.
And I'm down here sailing across the 19th.
It's late Friday night, about 2 AM. We have a light southwest
breeze tonight and the water is glassy smooth.
The moon has set and what few lights there are around the
lake are barely visible.
It's easy to imagine oak planks beneath bare feet, canvas sails,
the smell of tar and salt as we glide silently across the water.
I'm thinking this is what it must have been like 200 years past,
a wooden ship sailing by the stars alone.
The stars...
Looking up and searching the familiar constellations I notice a
tiny speck of white light moving steadily across the heavens.
The International Space Station is sailing across the twenty-
first century sky.
And I'm down here sailing across the 19th.
Meanwhile I am squinting to see why a CAR is driving on our lake... as a pair of headlights come screaming across the water in what looks like a 70's vintage pickup is barreling down on me from across the lake, at the last minute he turns... NOPE some YAHOO has wired in old Chevy pickup headlights into his pontoon boat so he can "see" to drive the boat at night.
UGH.
UGH.
All I ask is a tall ship and a star to guide her by.
Let me look to the far horizons whee the sea and the sky are one ..
Not my sayings -- I forgot who said it.
Hershey
Let me look to the far horizons whee the sea and the sky are one ..
Not my sayings -- I forgot who said it.
Hershey
"Sea-Fever"
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
By John Masefield (1878-1967).
(English Poet Laureate, 1930-1967.)
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
By John Masefield (1878-1967).
(English Poet Laureate, 1930-1967.)