maritime Poem and Prose

ps:  the theme of early central asian poems is not put a
title on a poem but rather allow the reader to name what they
feel after reading.

on yon harbor tidal waters floated Brooklyn’s own proud General Slocum side water paddle steamer filled w children, women, families, twas summer 1904
harbor breezes, yon fires, tragedy  ended there upon North Brother Island an escape from city slums and crowding, a vessel for families, vanquished tears, angst flow among the city streets, in crowded jacob riis tenements though on fine days it looks so dismal, a pattern, day long one tint is difference

Emma Abbot sallied forth on harbor tides, a vision of steamboat tycoon Starin
benefit for newsboys, civil war veterans, and NYC’s needy, floating respite three landings daily in our City proud, down among Brooklyn’s shores
at noon hour anchor lifts, Emma cast twelve miles down the harbor one mile more from shore capturing for mothers,children and all aboard full benefit of America’s sea-air twain anxious mothers carrying aboard sick and weak children reach and touch a golden ring
free, curative open air, fresh ice cold milk, health and wellness unfold aboard

after emma, came upon NYC’s sparkling harbor waters, julliard I and julliard II
self-propelled these vessels anchored yore of fresh water and wellness free then came the lloyd and the wallace up until the year 2003, 5 million more
seen by nurses, dentists, doctors, social workers true and free, care dispensed tincture of tides, tincture of time, tincture of health, true tincture of care st. john’s guild, an umbrella true and core, beliefs, convictions strong

in strength upon these wooden decks did walk little feet w mothered hands not much to provide for persons, the soul, of goodness clasped
in the distance wall street rises like tall minarets, gaze enviously down ages before us, momentarily, a pale blue rose, captivated our senses a harbor fog drops down, thicker then pea-soup clasped in stonewear up from and down across in tides so found is New York’s bight, a harbor

in harbors of safety since time immortal do sea-fairers escape the storm around a floating hospital a harbor of safety, a place of tranquilty, a breathe of fresh air colors stain yon decks, as tugs huff and chuff along, a barge towed among people from neighborhoods fair and clear, a heart beating strong, not strangers among friends united, caring, for every person own desires, their songs, their epics their own place, a garden

cultivated, grown,  preserved yon Captain and crew
in some distant littoral flowing we too are NYC’s waters singers, a seventh song pale blue roses, shadowed yellow spring time blossoms, redeemed
in goodness parted me from our senses, we saw a beating heart among us not a dream, nor mirage forever we board on true beholden facets
on yon harbor tidal waters floated Brooklyn’s own proud General Slocum
lasting shadows Emma Abbot sallied forth on harbor tides for people true

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