Within the Churning Sea – Poem

Among the churning sea a lone boat rocks in the powerful waves,
Helpless but free, it’s destined to sink for it’s small, fragile and old,
With many cracks, and a single larger tear through the hull.

Inside sat a lone traveler with a bottle of rum and water up to his ankles
His coat drenched, his hood up, and his head down in defeat and shame,
The overwhelming chills made him tremble, yet his forehead was hot,

Within he felt a profound empty void, where everything resides.
He looked inside it to find the Three: Despair, Anger and Fear,
They were strong, and he was weak; he succumbed to their power.

His heart was black like the dark sky of the night,
His fear was like the powerful roar of the sky,
His psyche was unsteady like the rocking boat,
Was there no hope?

Thank for reading. So what do you think: is there no hope for the traveler? Is there something, anything, he could do to find a glimmer of hope, or is he forever lost? I’d like to hear what you think so leave a comment below.
Patrick Rain

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2 Responses to Within the Churning Sea – Poem

  1. Marie Goddard says:

    *lip trembles, eyes google with fat tears* IT’S SO SAD!
    *whips out handkerchief* *trumpets gooey emotion* *wads handkerchief and chucks over shoulder*

    Ahem. That being said, there’s always hope. *cheeky grin* You, the author, are the master of the tides. You’ve painted a desperate situation as far as the reader can infer, and there is no hope for escape.
    However! This grim snippet could quickly erupt into salvation for the traveler.
    *Lights! Camera! Sprinkler! And ACTION!*

    ….our character is lost both to himself and the elements…. he’s weak, tired, and defeated. With each swig of rum, he sinks further into a murky sludge of despair. But, lo- what’s this?
    A crash of thunder! The boat lurches, and he with it. His rum slings from his grasp. The man meets the cabin wall in a painful kiss. His boat groans…
    And begins to tip.
    Panic seizes him. Is this truly the end? Will his last fevered memory be in this suffocating space, the black water swallowing him whole? Will no one remember his pain, or even the life he left behind? All that remains is a barnacle covered corpse – perhaps fished up by accident in a tangled net many years later…
    As that bizarre image stays with him, another slosh of the raging sea hurls him sideways. His shoulder plows the cabin door open. He spills onto the crooked deck and slides as the sea forces the hull skyward.
    And, strangely, the slippery tail of a rope swings his way. He’s not thinking anymore, he’s gripped by the need to survive. On instinct he flails for the lifeline…

    So, things still look kinda desperate but at least he’s fighting for the right to survive. Yes, our character may have hit rock bottom, so to speak, but the author can always plant things in his mind and manipulate events to push the character into action. It’s not really for the reader to decide, since they’re not writing the poem. He’s our guy, we’ve put him in a hole, buried him up to his neck, and vultures are circling. He figures he’s got no chance and his last miserable memory is gonna be the beak of one of those ugly birds. And then something miraculous happens. What exactly? Well I don’t know. But it wouldn’t be much of an epic if the guy died on the first page. So we string it out, make him want that second chance, and redeem him. His soul is worth saving we think. Sure, he’s an alcoholic with a sordid past, but he was driven to that by a terrible event that he allowed to define him. So, do we decide that it continues to shape his pitiful existence, or do we give him a reason to set the bottle down and sober up?

    The pen is in your hands. 😀

    Your poem is great, the imagery is vivid. I can feel his torment, and it makes me want to help him out. You’ve created an emotional link for me. I feel for him. I want to know his name and the reason he’s out in the middle of the sea in nothing but an old dingy. I like him, and want to see his salvation.

    ….And this is why I can’t watch sad movies. I have this need to write the character a way out.

    *ducks head in shame* I apologize for the length of this message.

    • Patrick Rain says:

      Well, the poem seems like it made an impression, which I am happy about despite it being a grim first impression. You’ve got some great descriptions in you’re comment, and they made me think: maybe I should do a follow-up to the poem. Cheers!

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