I'm looking into a picture of a turbulent stormy sea, <br />And imagining I am battling against its wild fury. <br />The winds are whipping cruelly around the boat I sail, <br />Lashing it with salt spray, hurricane and gale. <br /> <br />The waves are rising skywards, fifty feet or more, <br />And I can hardly see at all, in this violent downpour, <br />Clouds are dark and heavy, rumblings can be heard, <br />But in the midst of this cacophony, I spy no living bird. <br /> <br />It's as if the world is angry, stirring up a fearful fight, <br />I try to hold the craft on course, struggling in my plight, <br />The ocean is never static, it is restess all the while, <br />Forever in perpetual motion, and constantly hostile. <br /> <br />I stand back now from the image, of power uncontrolled, <br />The painter creates a vision that's forceful, strong and bold, <br />He has captured all the terror, the brutality of the deep, <br />In just a few deft brush strokes, this drama begins to seep. <br /> <br />Into my mind, and whilst dreaming, a fantasy can start, <br />About being heroic and daring, fearless, brave and smart. <br />Such a confrontation here, between me and the water's rage, <br />Thinking I could possibly, such ill humour, thus assuage. <br /> <br />But I know I would wait forever to see calmness in this scene, <br />For it is a painting, sealed in time, and could never be serene.<br /><br />Ernestine Northover<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-boat-i-sail/
