Posted in Narrative Poetry, Poetry, Portrait Series Poetry, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems

Portraits Poetry Series #32: Almost Home

In case you haven’t been here before, I love writing prompts – whether a list of words, one word, or even an image.  With these posts, I have written poems specifically about paintings and I hope, with my words, you see the scene just as visibly in your heart and mind as if you had seen the image itself.


Portraits Series

The wind whipped
and the sails fluttered
waves crashed on the starboard side
the boat creaked, tossed, and turned
it was an arduous journey,
but they were almost home.
The men gripped the rails
and held their stations
wiping sweat from their brows.
Dark, thunderous clouds
loomed above
threatening violence.
They could feel it
in the crashing waves
the constant tilt
from fore to aft
from side to side
the men barely spoke
but muttered prayers quietly.
Each time the boat threatened
to keel to the side,
he would grip the ropes tight
he would hold on to every hope –
and as he watched the lighthouse light
skitter across the horizon, he knew –
they were almost home.
He could almost touch
Mary’s face
and his beautiful child,
how old is she now?
7 months –
he had yet to hold her.
He could almost breathe
their scent
they were so very close –
but it seemed so far away.
Mary held
her daughter close
tried to shield her
from the winds
the child cried
and Mary comforted,
“daddy’s almost home.”
She began to wave
her hand held in the air
the silk kerchief
her most treasured possession
looped from side to side
“I am here, waiting!”
she cried,
and the waves crashed
upon the docks
water splashed at her feet
the wind whipped
her tattered apron
tied around her waist –
he was almost home.
She could see far
in the distance,
the boat tilted
ever so slightly
the mast snapped
and the boat keeled
a gasp formed
in Mary’s chest
but she was too afraid
to give it voice –
he was almost home.
The waves rose and fell
there was nothing to see
the darkness swelled
and lightening lit the sky
but she did not lose hope.
Now, each year
she stands upon the docks
waiting for her love to come home
and her child, 9 years old
stands beside her
waiting for her father’s first kiss.

© Sumyanna 2016



Writer of poetry and seeker of knowledge. I hope to inspire and be inspired by my words and the world around me.

3 thoughts on “Portraits Poetry Series #32: Almost Home

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