Thursday, December 11, 2008

I'd rather be Sailing....

Floating Away», by [Marcus Krackowizer])
The very first poem written by me, at School. I was seven years-old and dedicated it to my Father:
«I'd rather be sailing,
I'd rather be at Sea,
Just our boat,
You and me...»
The teacher simply loved it!!! We sometimes used a flag saying «Snoopy for Prime-Minister» and we laughed a lot about it! I wonder where it went...

10 comments:

Kate said...

I haven't visited you for awhile...shame on me! Your photo is spectacular; just what I need today in cold Minnesota. I'd rather be sailing, too!

richies said...

Wonderfully beautiful photo. A good poem has feeling, and your first poem was great. To see my favorite sailing photo go here.
Sailing in Belize

An Arkie's Musings

Swt said...

Bravo! Yeah!

Gail's Man said...

I'm not sure about being on a sailing boat, but I love the colour of the ocean.

Bergson said...

Bravo for this blue

Small City Scenes said...

What a great shot---I'll be right there--is it summertime????? I love your poem. I bet that made Father happy too. MB

magiceye said...

stunning image and a lovely poem!

Malheiro do Vale said...

Hi Sailor,
Better keep your feet dry for the weekend as there is bad weather approaching! ;-)

imac said...

Beautiful capture

jc said...

I MUST dowwn to the seas again,
to the lonely sea and the sky,
And I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by
And the wheel´s kick and the wind´s song and the white sail´s shaking
And a grey mist on the sea´s face and a grey dawn breaking.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.
To the gull´s way and the whale´s way where the wind´s like a whetted knife;
And all I aske is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and sweet dream when the long trick´s over.

JOHN MASEFIELD