Read Poem: SUNDAY, by WP Newnham

at sea Sunday

with easterlies predicted

but easy 15 knotters with

my gun crew of old school

and new- my old girl is ready

and welcomes me back with arms

out-stretched in a cornucopia of harvest

 

sea birds call to me at the wharf and

riding easterly winds, they glide all geo-

stationary looking me in the eye saying

 

FAAAARRRRKKKKKKKKK

 

WHERE U BEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!

 

FFFFFFFFFAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKK

 

I GOTTA A FUCKEN FAMILY TO FEED YOU KNOW!

 

FAAAARRRRKKKKKKKKK

 

they wait for me

and the harvest is at the birds!