S.O.S
John David Walsh 2001 (Boston)
The waves are rough and hellish
The clouds are doomsday gray
The sea is unforgiving
Four men are in the fray
Their expectations level
Their minds are not at ease
They’re fighting for survival
All order begins to cease
They knew the sea was a gamble
They knew the game was scarce
And yet they took their chances
They’re numb to the concept of fair
In the distance an eerie rumble
Our mother gathers her strength
The sailors watch in silence
As the waves grow in length
Now they’re on the deck, gazing in awe
Nothin’ like a tidal wave
To make a man see God
About this poem
My first poem, wrote it first on my old Android on Christmas day 2020
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Written on December 25, 2020
Submitted by John_David_Walsh on October 15, 2022
Modified on April 06, 2023
- 33 sec read
- 74 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | XAXA BXBX BXXX BCXC XXX |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 566 |
Words | 110 |
Stanzas | 5 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 3 |
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"S.O.S" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 10 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/141031/s.o.s>.
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