THOUGHTS FROM A PICTURE

The painting was of a ship being wrecked.
It spoke more than a thousand words of pain.
You could almost hear the mountainous waves
Beat on the ship and rocks, again and again.

White hands gripped the railings, fear on every face,
The black clouds hung low like a waiting foe,
Hovering in anticipation of total victory,
Ice cutting rain creating the last violent blow.

The ship seemed twisted and tortured, about to break.
Would it break? we watchers would never know.
The haunted eyes knew, they prayed with anguished cries,
That ship would fail but oh, when would it go?

Yet through the dark and turmoil, a beam of hope,
A lighthouse beacon on the weather beaten shore,
A life boat fighting the waves, brave men aboard,
But hope was fading fast, those men could do no more.

I saw this picture as a child, it often comes to mind,
Were those people saved? Did the life boat sink too?
That painter gave me much to dwell on years ago,
As he painted, of the outcome, I wonder if he knew

M Ann Margetson November 6, 1999 ©
99POEMS/Thoughtson

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