SS TRUMP

The wind will cease and the ship will drift
And the telltale's rose will be swirling
In a crash of thunder the wind will shift
And the gusts of the storm will be whirling

With all sails torn and with fading lights
The ship will sign her very last deal
To sail the North Sea in the darkest of nights
With a blindfolded helmsman lashed to the wheel

From a distant past cries a laughing gull
To the wrecked ship from the Capitol
When she slowly ascends from the burning sea
To rest among the stars where she ceases to be

Copyright © 2017 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved

And I'm waiting for the the moment to arrive
When the rats jump off the ship to survive.




Poetry by Göran Gustafsson
Read 151 times
Written on 2017-01-10 at 16:30

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
You describe the feeling well. There are always rats and they are never loyal.
2017-01-16


Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
A very sad day for all of us will be the 20th of January. An end to a powerful country. Thanks for the write.
Ashe*
2017-01-11