This poem is about Titanic, and how that beautiful ship- the source of so many writings and works- lies at the bottom of the ocean. Scarily I wrote this will on a cruise...
Beneath the menacing ocean waves
An iron lady sleeps.
Down below see rests in pieces
Gone, but never forgotten.
Many missing treasures lie there,
Unbeknown to our world above.
They mark the graves of her cargo,
Tell tales of forgotten stories.
Missing treasure of all kind and value,
Golden gilt and luxury lie.
Great jewelled mirrors give no reflection;
A pocket watch frozen in time.
Some shoes and clothes lie naked,
Their masters washed among the sea.
Dolls and toys with tears in the eyes
Long for their lost children.
The propeller dead, without purpose
The helm has lost its control.
Light shines through perfect windows
But, she drives on into the deep.
An iron lady ‘dead in the water,
Heroes and Villians dash to the boats.
Souls sail away to ghostly safety
But leave the helpless alone.
An iron lady sleeps in eerie calm,
The bridge and crow’s-nest lies forlorn.
Violin strum out their final tunes,
Someone cries ‘Iceberg, Right Ahead’!