Of Boats and Seas

Vrsar marina


If I were a boat, and you the seas,

I’d hoist my sail and let the breeze

Bear me ever homeward bound,

Within your harbour, safe and sound;

And if a storm should cause dismay

With roaring gale and stinging spray,

You’d take the wheel, your waves escort

My shaking hull to safer port.

Midst unknown anchorage, should I

Dismiss my destiny, my why,

You’d paint my name upon my deck

In sea-foam green, lest I forget

That I am one with deeper swells,

With azure waves, and sea-carved shells,

With pirate kings, and mermaid songs;

For in your arms, my sail belongs.



pot of gold


Pots of gold mark the places

where trees, undaunted

by their world’s enmity,

choose to bury the hatchet.

Stripped of their wares,

pirated and split into

planks which dead men walk,

they lay their treasures

at our feet, bowing

to our superiority.