Angels dream of sailors on an endless ocean
never contented to stay home and watch the embers turn to ash
Talk of what lay over that horizon fired their souls...
dezman.

Just found this...

A Sailor's Song

Oh for the breath of the briny deep,
And the tug of a bellying sail,
With the sea-gull's cry across the sky
And a passing boatman's hail.
For, be she fierce or be she gay,
The sea is a famous friend alway.

Ho! For the plains where the dolphins play,
And the bend of the mast and spars,
And a fight at night with the wild sea-sprite
When the foam has drowned the stars.
And, pray, what joy can the landsman feel
Like the rise and fall of a sliding keel?

Fair is the mead; the lawn is fair
And the birds sing sweet on the lea;
But echo soft of a song aloft
Is the strain that pleases me;
And swish of rope and ring of chain
Are music to men who sail the main.

Then, if you love me, let me sail
While a vessel dares the deep;
For the ship's wife, and the breath of life
Are the raging gales that sweep;
And when I'm done with the calm and blast,
A slide o'er the side, and rest at last.

Paul Laurence Dunbar (from Lyrics of the Hearthside, 1899)

You just have PTSD (Poetry-focused Teacher-inflicted Stress Disorder), Felix. It's no biggie. There are treatments available. Here's one of them. Breathe, relax and enjoy:

felixdcat said..

Poetry is for pussies and gay men (no direspect intended to gay men)............... I hate it since the days I had to learn meaningless lines and lines of poems coming straight from someone suffering from brain wet farts syndrom! Remember getting detention for not being able to go more than 3 lines and not able to remember more!

Haha, maybe it's the teacher you should hate!
But I understand your frustration and can feel deeply for your lost, oh I think there is a poem coming on again;

It's bitter sweet words that drip from mine lips for pretty tits
Wicked are those thoughts of her innocents I'll take away
Cooing my way deep within her mind with poems of sh.t

'Poetry' helping more men get laid than beer.

Can TOTALLY relate to that felixcat

The same boy stood on the burning deck his pocket full of crackers, one fell down his trouser leg and blew off both his--toes?