Hello, I'm Henry.  

Welcome aboard my blog's home. 

If you come along with me, you'll become acquainted with my motley mates and faithful crew:

Experiences, Sightings, Observations, Impressions, Ideas, Reflections, Remembrances, Insights and Commentary.

They, after all, have accompanied me for as long as I can recall. Their tenure has helped me turn my tiller, fill my sails, and transport me over seas to distant lands. Maybe if you take the time to get to know them, a few will do the same for you.

Click this way and scroll along if you please...Enjoy your stay.   

 Piece of Work

Piece of Work

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A reluctant communicator
Too cheap to buy a new phone
Emails me his phone has died
Uses others' to call his wife, though not me
Lori contacts me to let her know
When her husband arrives.
He sleeps on airport floor
While I sleep in my car, I wait for him
12:30 am he calls me, but not her.

 

Phone-less he arrives
Beach whistles me, I know his canine call
Dinghy the shallows to his wading wait
Aboard he came only a day late
Lori can now breathe another sigh of relief
Use my phone to call her care.
Two old friends Gulf Stream crossing.

By the second hour
Motoring signal sounds alert
Can't be, just serviced it
Minutes later starboard engine smoking
Why these issues when he is aboard
His heads and hands disappear into the depths
I chuckle as he re-enters his familiar world
Boat motor engines beckon his talents.

Cleaning windows
Rubbed clean, whipped away
glassy-salty spray resi-dew
Removed our scratchy views
Clear ahead we now can sea
"No need to wash dishes well",
His mottos "Towel will catch the crumbs."
This handyman hands rough, strong
shine and scrub a rusted engine
but dishes are but dips in sea
Deck drip-dryers finish his deeds.

I wonder upon a moneyed mind
One dollar's worth; he brought his cup
Labeled "coffee snob" if paid more than four.
Savings sips and drips his drab
The price seems his only suffice.
Never about flavor, health or pleasure.

Drilling holes into a boom above
Setting screws, bolting steel
The hanging shackle
Teeters above his head
Unnoticed it falls from its swing
Into the clear depths below
Not like heavy metal defines
Minds sometime defy gravity

Not the Quaker he used to be
They changed so he rejected them
Or I somehow thought he was.
Trump supporter now onboard my boat
Shake, stir things up, 
Anything better than leaders we elected

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The flies filled our salon
Opened the door to let them out
More arrived uninvited
Lit insect incense to deter
Instead they gather round
Laugh at silly me clown

An anchor light did not shine
A likely loose connection aloft
Seagull probably perched aloof
So hoisted atop the mast Clint sits
In a raised halyard boatswain chair
To steady a newly installed LED
His second ascent I winched him up
Now all know where Mystique’s anchor lay

Clint and poetry
Never found in symmetry
Another world unaware
A place called not a care
Create, imagine, improv,
Not his nature he says
Yet not true as I know
His artistic side not within words
But in design and detail
Fit a boat, house with nautical looks, nooks
Every space he knows how to fill
Some can see the talent within thee

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While anchored off Royal Island
Clint showers for me
Said the stench cloud following him
Must have bothered my nose
So rather than a dip overboard
A fresh water hose cleanse he chose.

Short Waterfront Encounters

Short Waterfront Encounters

Our Third Bahamian Week

Our Third Bahamian Week