Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Joy and Grief

Yet angels, even more than spawn of hell,
Have power over desperate sailor's souls,
They lifted me above the raging swell
And granted me an undeserved parole.
Oh, I am proof that angels hear our prayers,
So do not say that hope is ever gone,
For heaven listens to each human care,
And every night is followed by the dawn.
Astonished to be breathing and alive,
I woke upon a distant, lovely shore
Rejoicing in the knowledge I survived -
And longing for the maiden I adore.

Oh, sing, my brothers! Sing of second chance,
Amidst the barnacles and dead men's bones.
Yes, sing, my brothers! Sing, and brightly dance,
Down in the murky depths with Davy Jones.
For life is snatched out of the jaws of death,
And I have drawn a new and blessed breath!


But cruel fate would play me false once more,
As I returned to this, the village I had left,
My grieving love was gone from earthly shores -
In sorrow leapt from tall and jagged cleft.
And so I sit upon this precipice,
This wretched Widow's Watch on which she died,
And long for one last sweet and passioned kiss;
One more embrace from her, my lovely bride.
Oh, I, as well, would take that desperate leap,
To end my grief upon the crashing wave,
But I've surveyed that fearsome, dreadful deep,
And cannot face the terror of the grave.
I cannot go to her, nor she to me,
Forever lost beneath that churning sea.

So sing, my brothers! Sing a mournful tune,
Amidst the barnacles and dead men's bones.
As waves are stilled beneath a cold gray moon,
Sink down to murky depths with Davy Jones.
And sing farewell to all the world above,
For I shall see no more my lady love.

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