The Ship of Death (Poetry)

silhouette photography of boat on water during sunset

While poetry is typically not a writing form that I can simply create on demand, there have been several times that I’ve had poetry assignments that actually came out quite well. Perhaps it’s because by March 2002, my second semester of my freshman year in high school, I was writing poems rather consistently.

“The Ship of Death” happens to share a name with a famous D.H. Lawrence poem, actually by complete coincidence. I don’t remember the exact assignment or the inspiration for the words in my “Ship of Death” poem, but it turned out rather well. What I couldn’t have possibly guessed at the time is that poems about ships and death as their primary themes are a fairly niche trope in poetry that’s made this piece somewhat of a sleeper within my poem archives.

In any case, I personally enjoy this one, and I hope you do, as well.

“The Ship of Death”

The towering rocks the ship has hit
The masts have fallen
The bow has been split
The Scene becomes so dark and sullen
And not a single candle is lit.

A woman searches for her ring
Given to her so very long ago
And while the song of death sings
As the ripped sails blow to and fro
Cold and sickness, the weather brings

She remains the last one living 
Her ring her only chance of life
The Angel of Death is slowly coming
If only her man would save his wife
But alas, he is gone, she is humming

In his cloak, the grim figure watches
The woman whose eyes turn dull
Her long white hair all caught in bunches
This miserable time, all she can do is mull
And below the deck comes the sound of crunches

All are dead, save her alone
Death approaches with an evil groan
In her resistance, the Reaper still waits
He knows she can’t deny her fate
She won’t realize that, until it’s too late.

~ Amelia <3

Written March 13, 2002

Amelia Desertsong is a former content marketing specialist turned essayist and creative nonfiction author. She writes articles on many niche hobbies and obscure curiosities, pretty much whatever tickles her fancy.
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