Ghost Ship Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The old ship slept, her journey done,
Anchored fast, 'neath setting sun.
No more to sail, no waves to fight,
Just gentle rest, in fading light.

But autumn winds began to blow,
The sea grew rough, put on a show.
The old hull groaned, the timber creaked,
As angry waves and storm clouds leaked.

The wind rose high, a hurricane,
A fearsome test, a sea of pain.
For weeks it raged, a howling beast,
A bitter end, it seemed, at least.

Then on the third, a dreadful sound,
The starboard chain, unwound, unbound.
Then port side too, the metal cried,
The anchor gone, the ship untied.

The storm now won, she lost control,
Into the dark, a drifting soul.
They searched for her when skies were clear,
But found no trace, no sign was near.

Ninety years gone, since that dark night,
No soul has seen her, lost to sight.
Does she lie deep, beneath the waves?
Or sail unseen, in ocean caves?

A phantom ship, on windswept spray,
A secret held, for night and day.
Like many ships, before and since,
A legend whispered, on the brince.

A mystery kept, by sea and sky,
Did the old ship live, or did she die?
A legend told, in whispers low,
Where old ships wander, to and from.

Tor M. Solvang