The Frigate

by Frederick Mayer   Aug 23, 2008


Through crimson mists from another realm.
Not soul nor sole that heads her helm.
The midnight dew seeps down her hull.
Color no hue none be at all.

She carries crew, of night they be.
Across she sails the ebony sea.
Look not for eyes, be weary of.
Inside deep cries of they of woe.

Arise a foam to stern it lay.
Arise a froth that start a day.
Set sail to fund that called home.
Of peace of mind; she will return.

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Latest Comments

  • 16 years ago

    by Frederick Mayer

    Thank you SnoWryTeRxiaoDan for taking the time to vote and, more importantly, to use some of your valuable time and energy to make a comment.

  • 16 years ago

    by Helena Jaster

    Very well written and stylized. "Arise a foam to stern it lay, Arise a froth that start a day.
    Set sail to fund that called home. Of peace of mind; she will return. " Excellent. A wonderful piece of the promise of home and the inevitable return to the sea.

  • 16 years ago

    by MidniteRain

    I don't know what it is about this poem, but I'm drawn to it. I can't stop reading it.

    Amazing poem.

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