Sea-Fever
 
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
 
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
 
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
 
By John Masefield (1878-1967).
(English Poet Laureate, 1930-1967.)
 

________________________________

 



The Ghost With The Most
 by Arden Davidson


 "Boo! Boo Hoo!",
cried the ghost with the most.
No one comes to visit me,
though I'm the perfect host.

I decorate with cobwebs,
sweep the spiders under the rug,
Yet no one ever offers me
a kind word or a hug.

I don't know what the reason is.
I don't know what could cause it,
'Cause I always, yes I always
keep my skeletons in the closet.

Sure, I may look scary
but if someone really knew me,
they wouldn't be afraid
'cause they could see
 right through me.


© Arden Davidson 1998
http:⁄⁄www.angelfire.com⁄md⁄byme⁄pocket⁄ghostmost.html

Cow-ard
 by Arden Davidson

 I can't. I quit.
I won't. That's it.
I'm done. I'm through.
No more.

No chance. I'm gone.
Forget it. So long.
Goodbye. I'm out
 the door.

Drop it. Leave it.
Not maybe. No, never!
Not ever. No way.
No how.

You can't get me,
just 3 foot 3
to milk that
angry cow.


© Arden Davidson 1998
http:⁄⁄www.angelfire.com⁄md⁄byme⁄pocket⁄coward.html