The Fo'c's'le

This probably isn't going to be of much interest to those who were reading my blog for the merchant navy stuff. But what I used to do on here was write: poetry, stories etc. I've written quite a few stories recently, but to get slowly back into the swing of things, a ship-related poem. The lovely writer/director/producer Peter Vickers has done a great recording of it for me, if you want to listen instead of/as well as read. Enjoy!



The Fo'c's'le

Bathed in a yellow gleam

The rust shines like paint and the paint grips like rust

On the deck are patches of darker red, squares, a textured roundness within, underneath

Like so many unopened condom packets littering the ground

(A sailor has a lonely life)

Bright geometric shapes, blue rectangles, yellow rectangles,

The opening sequence to an 80s TV show, on the sofa, orange squash in hand

Safest place in the world

The same images now with heavy ropes, steel cable snapback zones

A bight’ll have your head; a loop, your limb

“Most dangerous job in the world, Jim!”

Left with nothing, a stump, a memory,

A body at home, a mind all at sea

(A sailor has a lonely life)