ALL LOST
Posted: Sun Jul 16, 2023 10:54 am
ALL LOST .. Maureen Clifford © The ScribblyBarkPoet
I remember as a child hearing the stories
of shipwrecks
along the barren coastline that I walked today..
Grey overcast days – cold, stormy,
fierce wild seas –
whose salty spray lay on my lips.
Treacherous seas after big storms, shifting sandbanks,
pounding surf and screeching winds
ripping the top gallants and mizzens to shreds.
Lives lost, cargo lost,
animals lost – all hands lost.
All lost.
All lost.
I can recall seeing a barrel marooned on the waterline,
and racing with childish anticipation
to push it out of the waters reach,
convinced that it held treasure
and gold doubloons.
Pirate treasure.
It s pale straw colour blended with the sands
and on its side burnt into the wood was a picture
of red berries and a saw edged skeleton leaf
and large black letters - PFV.
My father said the barrel came from the wreck of the Annie Ward
who went down
with all hands lost.
All lost and none found.
The barrel was made from Mountain Ash – Eucalyptus regnans
and held wine from the Prospect Farm vineyards.
My Father knew about things like this
he was an educated man - a schoolteacher
'trying to impart knowledge
into thick headed dolts
who don't want to know'
he often said.
I remember scanning the sands for all the lost hands
but I never saw one.
Only a solitary white feather
fluttering like a tiny ghost.
All lost.
All hands lost.
I remember as a child hearing the stories
of shipwrecks
along the barren coastline that I walked today..
Grey overcast days – cold, stormy,
fierce wild seas –
whose salty spray lay on my lips.
Treacherous seas after big storms, shifting sandbanks,
pounding surf and screeching winds
ripping the top gallants and mizzens to shreds.
Lives lost, cargo lost,
animals lost – all hands lost.
All lost.
All lost.
I can recall seeing a barrel marooned on the waterline,
and racing with childish anticipation
to push it out of the waters reach,
convinced that it held treasure
and gold doubloons.
Pirate treasure.
It s pale straw colour blended with the sands
and on its side burnt into the wood was a picture
of red berries and a saw edged skeleton leaf
and large black letters - PFV.
My father said the barrel came from the wreck of the Annie Ward
who went down
with all hands lost.
All lost and none found.
The barrel was made from Mountain Ash – Eucalyptus regnans
and held wine from the Prospect Farm vineyards.
My Father knew about things like this
he was an educated man - a schoolteacher
'trying to impart knowledge
into thick headed dolts
who don't want to know'
he often said.
I remember scanning the sands for all the lost hands
but I never saw one.
Only a solitary white feather
fluttering like a tiny ghost.
All lost.
All hands lost.
