deckhand

I am from a gaff hook and Simplex girdies and hootchies
I am from the Wild Thing, the tide-race through the Ucletaws, cork-screwing through whirlpools
I am from popweed and kelp beds and red jelly fish
From the cash buyer and BC Packers, Seafoods and the Northern Native Brotherhood
I am from the net loft and the boardwalk in Namu
From wear your life jacket and a freak wave crashing open cupboard doors and tossing plates, cans, packages into a hurricane mess everywhere
I’m from mother ocean and father sea
I’m from little coastal villages, weekend wharf parties with laundry baskets of crab and abalone, fresh baked bread wafting steamy mouth-watering aromas
From yo ho ho and a bottle of rum, from voddie and grapefruit, from just have the one a couple of times.
I’m from waltzing on a 2-foot wide deck with a drunken Viking to the sound of guitars, harmonicas and a bluesy trumpet
I’m from pigs jerking and dipping, and bright silver salmon jumping and fighting
From a red-headed babe swinging off the boom, jolly jumpered eyes growing larger and larger as the swell of the boat tosses her in circles and pirroettes, hmm better put some guy wires on that little dancer
I am from picture albums of forgotten memories, lost in time.

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Author: lyndaladret

Discovered writing stories and poems through Outlander and encouragement from Sam Heughan's MPC2016 program. My new hobby is photography! check out MPC2017.com to join the #BestGroupEver

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