Boats

Cherry

By Ewan

Mon, 05 Aug 2024
  • 455 reads
5 comments
 

We are island folk,
 our home is defined by the sea
  and boats; so many boats.

Catboats, cobles, clippers
 the simple cog, the collier
   oh, the collier, now coal-less.  

Dreadnoughts and destroyers,
  the lowly dart, the dinghy
   ah, the dinghy, now reviled

by the vile,
who favour its repulsion,
then cheer every sunk inflatable,

as though it were the first
of an invasion fleet of dhows,
lateen-sailed from “over there”.

Frigates they want.
In expectation of feluccas,
the fools sail fire-ships on high streets.

“Send a gunboat”
to repel rubber-gum-boats,
forgetting galley-brought Roman invaders …

[These men and women parrot
“what have the Romans ever done for us?”
without irony or introspection].

Shallops, schooners, snows
 the humble smack, slave-ships,
  yes, the slave-ships, now replaced

by tug-boats
trafficking across the Med
reversing Marco Polo’s outward voyage,

bringing the Orient by Occident
and thus riling people whose finest hour
involved a fleet of small boats and a retreat.

[A flag waving flotilla glorified Gloriana II,
on a rainy Thames, once upon a jubilee]

We are island folk.
 We are descendants
   of invaders and migrants.
     Let them come, let them come
       though they sail into the wind of bigotry;
        every sailor knows the wind can change.

Certificate PG
Poem
Days Like These
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by Turlough on

I particularly like your

“Send a gunboat”
to repel rubber-gum-boats,

When did the rules change so that people were expected to remain for the whole of their lives in the country in which they were born? I expect it was long after the Battle of Little Bighorn and after the point at which the British Empire began to crumble.

I've been in a bit of a minor refugee situation myself and I have vivid memories of not feeling very welcome in Leeds in 1970 with my North of Ireland accent.

And now I'm an economic migrant living in another country and nobody seems to mind. 

And now I have a bitter dislike for those who wish to turn away fellow human beings fleeing war, pestilence and famine. Some migrants hope to improve their lives, many hope to just stay alive.

But if the world starts sending people home, there will be a lot more people arriving in England than leaving. 

Yours, Mr Angry of Malki Chiflik.

 

Turlough

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

We are island folk.
We are descendants
of invaders and migrants.
Let them come, let them come
though they sail into the wind of bigotry;
every sailor knows the wind can change.

Thank you Ewan. They should hang this outside every Holiday Inn Express

 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

I like very much the sense of vitality through movement you evoke.
Your poem reminded me of how many waves of people there were to Britain, even before the Romans. The hunter gatherers from Spain, the first farmers from Turkey, (who built Stonehenge), then the first Celts, who started off in Eastern European countries such as Bulgaria, Romania and Hungary.

 

Submitted by airyfairy on

Very well said. I do hope the winds will change soon.

Submitted by celticman on

Nigel Farage. Stick him and his family in a rubber dingy. Then nudge him away with a gunboat. Two lessons. Humility and payback.