I see on the horizon a storm coming in;
I do not fear for my anchor lies within.
The breath of a spirit billows the sails;
The howling wind blows its gusty gales.
Why even the night light is feverishly dim,
As shadows creep forward seemingly grim.
I face my fears and take them by the horns;
I have blown a golden bugle since I was born.
My anchor, my rock, secure in life’s sea,
Grounded in a soul that can only be me.
No doubt life has its share of raw turmoil;
The seas around me in protest embroil.
One cannot escape any of life’s vicissitudes,
Facing challenges awakens verisimilitudes.
Courage and strength encourage fortitude;
The anchor, my inner rock, inspires certitude.
And what is this anchor of which we speak
That lies secure in bedrock in the ocean deep?
The anchor lies in waiting in patient reserve,
To hold firmly with our integrity to preserve.
Who then is the ship’s commander at the helm?
What does he possess to distinguish his realm?
None other than the world’s secrets revealed;
None other than nature’s mysteries unsealed.
THERE IS A HYMN THAT PARAPHRASING GOES LIKE THIS; 'IN TIMES LIKE THESE WE NEED AN ANCHOR. IN TIMES LIKE THESE WE NEED A SAVIOR. BE VERY SURE...BE 'VERY' SURE YOUR ANCHOR HOLDS AND GRIPS THE SOLID ROCK.' IN A NUTSHELL; BUT FOR THE 'ANCHOR' I WOULD BE LOST...AMEN! I WILL KEEP THIS ONE, JOHN. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS.
No matter how free we are in spirit, we all nonetheless need an anchor of some kind to keep us sane. I pity those who are without an anchor. They are the truly insane, whether they are actually mad or not.
Nice use of the nautical reference to get across your ideas about life.
Makes one wonder about one's anchor. What if your foundation, your anchor, was all wrong and that suddenly it was jerked out from under you? That many people have to face that, even though they face death.
One old Vietnamese gentleman told me once that he had to "start over" four times. I guess he had his anchor pulled out from under him a lot. I guess that's why he loved poetry so much and asked me to help him translate some classic Vietnamese poetry into English.
Eh, to be the master of your own fate is elusive to many, and to those who cannot "face my fears and take them by the horns;" life can be a dreary thing indeed,
Yes, the anchor holds its subject to where it must be at that moment. Only the commander knows why it is dropped and sooner or later, the "crew" understands. Thought provoking indeed!!
The anchor is very symbolic of life both on sea and on earth, you have delivered a beautiful tribute to it. Remain anchored in love and passion and all will be well, have a great day John x
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
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Rebecca
Makes one wonder about one's anchor. What if your foundation, your anchor, was all wrong and that suddenly it was jerked out from under you? That many people have to face that, even though they face death.
One old Vietnamese gentleman told me once that he had to "start over" four times. I guess he had his anchor pulled out from under him a lot. I guess that's why he loved poetry so much and asked me to help him translate some classic Vietnamese poetry into English.
Ron
Love ya!
Jane