18sep04: From Able Seaman Staines
The captain was as vicious as nails in a bomb
With a rage against the world
He could not contain
But in the quiet of the eye of the hurricane
He called us on deck
To recover our composure
After eight hours of force twelve winds
He made us lie on our backs
Beneath the evening sky
To look at the ancient stars
Through the clear column of falling atmosphere
Squeezed and warmed as it fell
Our circle of peace trapped by the wall of death
Fuelled with air moistened
By weeks in the tropical sun
Which released its steamy heat to swirl around
The rising vortex of force twelve destruction
The condensation first sweating
Then dripping like a cold bus window
Then roaring like a broken sluice
"If by your art my dearest father, you have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them."
The Captain shouted
But he knew it was too late
And in his mind he was content to watch
These whimpers at the end of a world
That had pained him too much
With its indifference
Seaman Staines
Auntie Jayne writes:
First let me point out your alias comes from a well worn urban myth. Seaman Staines was not a character in the children's television series Captain Pugwash - this is clearly explained here.
Secondly, your captain sounds like a pretentious misanthrope to me, one of those selfish sorts who don't do much good so they rail against the state of the world to soothe their own consciences.
Anyway, I have answered your poem because you have described the inner workings of a hurricane rather well. But I'm getting a bit fed up with analysing global warming and related topics. This is definitely the last one. For those of you that are really interested you can look on the website of the US Government's Geophysical Fluid Dynamics Laboratory. They do predict some increase in hurricane intensity as the earth warms (see here.)
But get a life! Next time send me something you really know about. Describe the best brothels in the ports you have visited: a critique of their hygiene standards would be most interesting.
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