An Otis Redding song inspired this ~ published by Poetry.com. |
Dock of the Bay Have you seen the boats, the sailboats, moored to the docks, held back by their ropes and anchors like gold chains glittering alight of gaudy decoration, with usage showing more practical purpose? The waves are beating harsh this day awash against the concrete steps of the bay, lapping at my bare feet. Man-made concrete I ground myself in. The waves pulsate awry, wind blowing raw and harsh with words of warning to my presence, against all further intrusion. The waves become my tears full of fears of now, of yesterday, and tomorrow. I sit by the dock of the bay, listening to a song in my head that won't go away, like the lonely wail of the southeast gale. . . wailing in my head With that empty echo of loneliness. *Grateful acknowledgements to Otis Redding, 1968. Sitting in the morning sun I'll be sitting when the evening comes Watching the ships roll in And I watch 'em roll away again Sitting on the dock of the bay Watching the tide roll away I'm just sitting on the dock of the bay Wasting time I left my home in Georgia Headed for the 'Frisco bay 'Cause I had nothin to live for And look like nothing's gonna come my way So I'm just... Look like nothing's gonna change Everything still remains the same I can't do what ten people tell me to do So I guess I'll remain the same Sittin here resting my bones And this loneliness won't leave me alone It's two thousand miles I roamed Just to make this dock my home Now, I'm just... (Whistle) |