All posts by Jim

To an F.N. Rifle (Rhodesian Memories)

To an F.N. Standard Issue Rifle
(Rhodesian memories)

Night had settled quiet round the yawning ridgebacked dogs.
The gates were locked. The reading chair pulled near
To where my rifle rested in the shadow of the logs.
There should uninvited guests appear.
No bullet in the barrel,
The safety catch was on.
Relaxed we sat and warmed before the flame.
No bullet in the barrel,
It’s menace all but gone,
Its company gave comfort just the same.

Hours before we’d made a kill, though neither’d gone for sport,
We’d dropped a charging sable neatly dead.
Cornered there and gut shot bad, he couldn’t run, so fought.
The hunter’s gun had jammed, or so he said.
We weren’t there for the hunting
But needed just in case
The terrorists should think to make a play.
We weren’t there for the hunting
But hunters learned their place
As merciful, my rifle had its say.

It came from many miles away to help me in the wars.
He’d sneaked behind the backs of those in wait.
And crossed a dozen borders closed, and through forbidden doors,
And busted every sanction, not too late.
I’d camouflaged his woodwork
And I’d camouflaged his steel.
And even camouflaged his magazine.
I’d camouflaged his woodwork
But I couldn’t hide the feel
Of latent strength, now dormant. Stern, not mean.

Then, while I traced his history, the dogs began to bark.
I killed the household lights and hit the floor.
I can’t remember grabbing him, but hidden by the dark
Stealthily we both moved to the door.
The safety catch was off now,
A bullet in the breach.
The belt of magazines was slung behind.
The safety catch was off now,
Maybe danger within reach.
His heartless steel had cooled my boiling mind.

And then I saw the danger stand, but didn’t squeeze a shot.
It could have made no difference to the war.
The dogs had sniffed a kudu at a nighttime feeding spot,
Where Jeb, the stable lad, had stored some straw.
There wasn’t any danger,
But one of us had scared,
Though feeling somewhat foolish in the end.
There wasn’t any danger,
But such adventure shared.
Can only serve to make a gun a friend.

For if he hadn’t lived with me I doubt I could have slept.
Nor walked alone or worked about the farm.
I’d move away, for he alone is all that quietly kept
Me feeling safe from terroristic harm.
He’s just an issued riffle
Like twenty thousand more
The government distributes every year.
He’s just an issued riffle,
A soldier in a war.
But one who never knows the taste of fear.
He’s just an issued riffle
Whose thanks is sparse and poor
For one that guarantees I still have breath!
Not just an issued riffle,
He’s peace. He’s upheld law.
A means of living. Not a source of death.

Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning

It’s Sunday morning bright and clear with no alarm I have to hear
No long commuting drive to fear that’s causing me to hurry.
No need to tie my ugly tie or lunch to grab as I dash by.
No business plans to satisfy about which I must worry.

I could go back to blissful sleep. I’ve no tight schedules I must keep
Or profits I must try to reap before the competition.
No staff to try to show the way nor fires to fight or minds to sway.
No bloody corporate games to play to safeguard my position.

To close my eyes again seemed right; no futile battles I must fight
Or bloody long reports to write or boss to whom to show ‘em
No reason I should leave my bed ……
….. So why’d I rush downstairs instead?
…… To catch these thoughts inside my head
….. And write this stupid poem!

Great Book Review from prominent sailing magazine

Sunday Morning

It’s Sunday morning bright and clear with no alarm I have to hear
No long commuting drive to fear that’s causing me to hurry.
No need to tie my ugly tie or lunch to grab as I dash by.
No business plans to satisfy about which I must worry.

I could go back to blissful sleep. I’ve no tight schedules I must keep
Or profits I must try to reap before the competition.
No staff to try to show the way nor fires to fight or minds to sway.
No bloody corporate games to play to safeguard my position.

To close my eyes again seemed right; no futile battles I must fight
Or bloody long reports to write or boss to whom to show ‘em
No reason I should leave my bed ……
….. So why’d I rush downstairs instead?
…… To catch these thoughts inside my head
….. And write this stupid poem!

 

This review was published in the prestigious Caribbean sailing magazine “All At Sea”.

All At Sea Book 2 review

For the Seasons Come and Go

For the Seasons Come and Go

 

Now the trees upon the ridge shed their autumn shrouds.

See the fallen red and gold.   Feel the nights start turning cold.

Bring the blankets from the drawer.  Watch those northern clouds,

Now the nights are getting longer every day.

Fetch the cordwood from the yard to a dryer space.

Check the water pipes won’t freeze.  Feel the sharp edge to the breeze.

Take your son on one last camp to your favourite place,

Then put canoes and summer thoughts away.

  

For the seasons come and go,

And you have to take the changes as they turn.

Winter freeze or summer burn.

When the warmth has turned to snow

You should have the winter planned out in your mind.

You should never fall behind

For the seasons won’t be kind if you don’t learn.

 

Bring the snowplough from the barn to the garage door.

Buy the wife another fleece.  Watch the southbound flights of geese.

Lay the feed in for the heard, order plenty more

For the weather channel’s warnings are severe.

Feel the ground start turning hard when the rains don’t fall.

See the silver on the lawn glisten more with every dawn.

Watch the squirrels build their nests.  Hear the ravens call,

Telling soon will be the ending of the year.

 

For the seasons come and go

And you have to change to suit their different needs.

Reap your crops or plant your seeds.

And their moods you have to know

For you must obey each need that they demand

And you have to understand

That when nature’s in command you can’t be slow.

 

So zip the lining in your coat.  Bring the seedlings in.

Check the lad’s boots aren’t your own, for his feet have surely grown.

See the salt trucks standing by as the snows begin.

Think of everything you still might need to do.

For your parents taught you well, through your growing days,

As you learned of nature’s truth, through the lessons of your youth.

So bring your boy up to the fire, teach him well those ways,

The time is come for him to know them too.

 

 For the seasons come and go

And the same as summer sun gives way to frost

So young innocence is lost,

And each year your son will grow

‘Till the day when he’ll be standing on his own,

Facing winter’s cold alone,

Giving thanks for all you’d shown he’d need to know.

 

 So now prepare him for that change as the seasons turn.

Fill his head with all he’ll need.  Plough the earth and plant the seed.

Show him well at every chance all he’ll need to learn,

For the winter will be here before you know.

See him grown to be a man.  Breath a saddened sigh.

Now you’ve helped him all you can you must follow nature’s plan,

And shake his hand and turn away as he says good bye.

For like summer’s warmth in fall he’s bound to go.

Tropical ….. by Courtney Scherer-Scott

Here is my daughter, Courtney’s, take on her birth place on a Tropical island.

This appears as a guest entry in Book 2 of the Wanderings and Sojourns series, “On Tropical Islands and Sparkling Seas”.

The cool breeze ignites my senses

Refreshing my busy mind

Only the sound of the gently crashing waves can bring such tranquillity

Palm trees create dancing shadows across the beach

Immune to the stresses of the outside world

Coastlines coloured with white sands and emerald seas

An artist’s dream

Living is easy in a place of perfection

(Used by permission of Courtney Scherer-Scott ….. Copyright © Courtney Scherer-Scott 2010)

 

Setting Sail

You see it etched upon his face as he looks out across the seas.

With the thirst for far horizons in his eyes.

He is watching from the shore like so many times before

Where he hears the wandering seabirds’ haunting cries.

And while he pulls his collar tight against the salty on-shore breeze

He is staring out beyond the windswept bay

Where across the white-capped waves rides the vision that he craves

Of the ship that’s going to carry him away.

 

Right then his heart starts pounding harder as he sees her tops’ls furled,

The t’galants, royals and courses gathered in.

With the stays’ls, fore and main, she falls off the wind again

So the reach toward the sea buoy can begin.

Then she’ll be making for the waterfront from half way round the world

Laden down with spices, cotton, tea and gold.

With her voyage almost run and the captains work but done

All that’s left is for her cargo to be sold.

 

Then she’ll replenish and set sail once more to seas and countries new.

There to open up more distant lands for trade.

And with her he must sail where the tropic winds prevail

And the tales that filled his childhood all were made.

Now he’s been waiting nine long days for her with nothing else to do

Since the owners said they’d sign him on next trip.

But now she’s come in sight as she sails across the bight

And by evening he’ll be safe aboard that ship.

 

So now the man upon the shore starts striding back toward the town

To the tavern by the dock where she’s to berth.

And he orders there a beer while his ship is drawing near,

Caring not how much he pays above its worth.

He sees the pilot climb aboard, the jibs and mains’ls taken down,

While the crew prepares the dock lines, bow and stern.

Once the channel marker’s passed then the tugs start making fast,

And he watches as she makes her final turn.

 

And then the heaving lines are thrown and all the ropes are hauled ashore

Then the ship is winched in snug against the quay.

With his kit bag in his hand he looks back upon the land

And then turns to breath the fragrance of the sea.

He then calls out to the Mate and tells him what he’s come there for.

Then he asks that he might be allowed to board.

And he’s shown where he’s to go to the quarters down below

Then they tell him where his kit should all be stored.

 

Now he can feel the subtle motion of the deck beneath his feet.

As he smells the pitch and linseed on the breeze.

He can hear the timbers creak and his fellow sailors speak

In the language of the people of the seas.

He feels a glowing deep inside himself, contentment now complete,

For he knows he’ll soon be ocean bound once more.

Where horizons never show of the next place he’s to go

Where no other ships have taken him before.

 

For he’s returned to live the life to which his vagrant soul was born,

Seeking each new land and ocean he can find.

Where the whims of wind and tide will his destiny decide,

And he’s no regrets for what he’s left behind.

So now he’s casting off the lines and heading out to meet the dawn.

Hoisting every sail to catch that morning breeze

And he turns to see the shore where he stood and watched before

Then he turns back to the freedom of the seas.

For his spirit’s now at rest as he steers toward the west

Where the calls of life and destiny prevail

Where the winds of fate and fortune and adventure never fail

In the isles beyond his farthest dreams where now his ever wandering soul may sail.

 

Angus Donald and the Gale … Part FIVE

This epic sea poem is published in Book 2 of the Wanderings and Sojourns series “On Tropical Islands and Sparkling Seas” and posted here in serial form to celebrate the release of that book.  A new episode of this saga, each comprising 10 verses, will be posted here each day for 12 days. The book is available at the link below and will soon also be available from Amazon and all e-book formats as well as being available to order from almost every bookshop in the world.
 http://www.friesenpress.com/bookstore/title/119734000000426983/Jim-Scott-On-Tropical-Islands-and-Sparkling-Seas

Angus Donald and the Gale

Part FIVE (verses 41 – 50)

 

41

Young Angus told Old Murdoch of the work that lay ahead;

The problems now with which they had to deal.

Was then when Murdoch said the younger man looked all but dead

And told him that he’d better take the wheel.

“If you’re your father’s son then you can steer this boat all right

“No matter that it be a raging gale.

“You have no strength left lad; though you’ve the heart, you’ve no more fight.

“I’ll go up for’ard now and help them live to tell this tale.

 

42

And so young Angus stood to helm while Murdoch went on deck

And worked toward the bow through wind and spray

The first time he had ever worn a life vest round his neck

Spoke full the fear he’d not known ‘till that day.

He’d trusted Angus this far so would let him choose the wave

On which to drive up to that jagged wall.

For Murdoch had to be there just in case he had to save

His son should things go badly when he made that final fall.

 

43

Through driving rain young Angus strained to see the craggy height

Where now the mother braced against the storm.

He saw young Murdoch check the rope about her waist was tight,

Her frailty dwarfed by his gigantic form.

Young Murdoch gave the signal they were ready then to go;

Young Angus watched the waves to pick the one

Would raise them up to meet the falling mother from below

Where Murdoch would take over from the efforts of his son.

 

44

The big one came; he throttled hard and shouted out his plan

Above the wail of wind and crash of sea,

And lunged into that ancient fray of ocean versus man

Surviving where they knew they shouldn’t be.

The waves were on his quarter so he had to angle high

Allowing for the leeway they would give.

He knew they’d be no second chance, the mother there would die

If he misjudged the desperate run to try to let her live

 

45

He felt the big wave lift them up with unrelenting force.

He revved the engine more to keep control

And took his mark along that cliff by which to hold his course

To guide them past each jagged rock and shoal.

He daren’t look up to watch the scene unfolding on the wall,

He had to focus then upon the waves.

And trust the elder Murdoch to control the mother’s fall

As Murdoch trusted him to keep them safely from their graves.

 

46

He rode so close beneath that cliff upon the crashing sea

It seemed there’d be no chance they’d stay alive.

But holding ‘till the final second underneath that lee

Was needed for the mother to survive.

He felt the wave begin to drop and spun the heavy wheel

And backed down hard to get her going astern.

The engine roared, the bow swung clear and rocks scraped hard her keel

As out he steered.  There was no time the mother’s fate to learn.

 

47

When frantically he cleared the rocks and reached the sound at last

He spared a fearful glance upon the deck

To see a grim-faced Murdoch clinging tight about the mast,

The mother clinging tight about his neck.

He turned the wheel and faced the seas to ease the way she rolled

So Murdoch then could make it to the stern.

The children and the mother all were soaked and freezing cold,

Their spirits though were warmed as they enjoyed her safe return.

 

48

“Four down and two to go.” Young Angus forced a smile, and tried

To cheer the elder captain in his doubt.

“That rope is getting shorter,” tersely Murdoch then replied.

“Be too short when my son’s turn comes about.”

And Angus saw the truth within the words old Murdoch said,

For every person saved they’d cut the rope.

Without enough to reach the boat young Murdoch would be dead

To save the father now meant that for him there was no hope.

 

49

The elder sighed, his shoulders sagged, his brow was furrowed deep.

“He’s got no choice, regardless of the cost.

“That’s how I raised him. Murdoch, see? There’s rules we have to keep:

“To do what’s right no matter what is lost.

“That’s how my father raised me too, and his dad did as well,

“When honour of the clan is what’s at stake,

“If that means end it early with a noble tale to tell

“Then be it so, ’cos that’s the choice a Murdoch has to make.”

 

50

Young Angus’ heart was pounding hard, his mind was running fast.

His friend had risked his life to save his own.

There’s no way they could let this day become young Murdoch’s last;

To die beneath the storm tossed sea alone.

He held the old man with his eyes, and clenched his stubborn jaw.

“Then he must spend the night up on those rocks.

“He has the strength of three grown men; tenacity of four.

“There’s reason why you wife bore you no man-child, but an ox!”

 

This epic sea poem is published in Book 2 of the Wanderings and Sojourns series “On Tropical Islands and Sparkling Seas” and posted here in serial form to celebrate the release of that book.  A new episode of this saga, each comprising 10 verses, will be posted here each day for 12 days. The book is available at the link below and will soon also be available from Amazon and all e-book formats as well as being available to order from almost every bookshop in the world.
 http://www.friesenpress.com/bookstore/title/119734000000426983/Jim-Scott-On-Tropical-Islands-and-Sparkling-Seas

El Mocambo

El Mocambo

Elmocambo 13-12-2014 04

 

This has to be one of the (if not THE) most iconic signs in the Toronto entertainment scene.

Last night, on the stage of El Mocambo I read some of my poetry to a fair-sized audience. The event contained several excellent musicians but I was the only poet reading their work.  I felt honoured to be invited to be part of that show. I also felt a little in awe to be performing on the same stage where previously had performed so many greats, including The Stones, Elvis (Presley and Costello), Sting, U2, Muddy Waters, Rush, Leonard Cohen, Stevie-Ray Vaughan, and many, many, MANY more.

Elmocambo 13-12-2014 02

 

Here I’m being introduced by the emcee before my set, which must have been OK as folks came over to me afterwards to tell me how much they enjoyed the poems, some to buy a book.  Some wanted more than one and one person wanted the set of all three. Some for themselves and some thought they’d make great gifts …. ‘Tiz the season after all.

While there I was invited to read at another venue in the New Year. I’ll post the details once I have them.

Thanks to all those who came and liked what they heard. I’m looking forward to more of the similar during 2015.

Angus Donald and the Gale … Part FOUR

This epic sea poem is published in Book 2 of the Wanderings and Sojourns series “On Tropical Islands and Sparkling Seas” and posted here in serial form to celebrate the release of that book.  A new episode of this saga, each comprising 10 verses, will be posted here each day for 12 days. The book is available at the link below and will soon also be available from Amazon and all e-book formats as well as being available to order from almost every bookshop in the world.
 http://www.friesenpress.com/bookstore/title/119734000000426983/Jim-Scott-On-Tropical-Islands-and-Sparkling-Seas

Angus Donald and the Gale

Part FOUR (verses 31 – 40)

31

The father’s strength was ebbing fast and no way could he climb,

Nor could his arms support him anymore.

Adrenaline was all he had to give a little time

Before his lifeless body washed to shore.

But when he was too weak to face just one more breaking sea

He felt another’s body at his side,

And turned to see young Angus braced and working stoically

Until he had the rope about both waists securely tied.

32

They hung together by that line that Angus had secured

To solid rock above them at the peak.

He’d found the strength to clamber down despite all he’d endured,

Though knowing that the odds were more than bleak.

The father had no strength or will to help with the assent.

Now Angus bore the brunt of every wave.

He wondered how much time there’d be before his too was spent

To ultimately die beside the man he’d come to save.

33

Though try with all he found inside he couldn’t bear the weight

Of both of them to lift them from the sea.

The father had accepted what he knew would be his fate

So told the younger man to cast him free.

But Angus was of stronger spirit, born of rock and tide

And raised on storm and hardship.  He’d keep on

Until he knew each hopeless chance was well and truly tried,

And every final ounce of strength was absolutely gone.

34

But when he knew the storm had won he felt the line draw tight.

He looked up but he could not trust his eyes.

For Murdoch’s son was standing there to help him in his fight;

He felt his strength and spirit start to rise.

He let a wave roll by then lifted all that he could take

While Murdoch’s stalwart son took up the strain.

They gained a foot then braced against the next wave that would break.

They let it pass, then climbed once more, then braced and climbed again.

35

Though slow, they made that summit and were hauled to level ground

Beside the mother’s pale and trembling form.

They placed the father at her side.  Though neither made a sound

They hoped each one might keep the other warm.

While both young men regained their strength young Angus asked his friend

Why had he come just when all hope was gone?

His dad had sworn no Murdoch clan would ever condescend

To let another fall alone if they could bear him on.

36

They’d figured it was too long since the second child he bore

So knew the task too tough for only one.

And so they’d driven back to where young Angus leapt ashore

And there young Murdoch leapt as he had done.

He’d climbed the jagged cliff face till he made the storm torn crest,

And fought against the howling wind and rain

Until he saw young Angus start to fail that final test.

Was then he saw the rope and so began to take the strain.

37

The young men looked about them at the couple where they lay

And saw within their eyes rekindled hope.

Young Murdoch helped the woman stand amid the wind and spray,

While Angus helped the man and coiled the rope.

Half carrying, half walking them they moved back to the lee,

Though resting twice to let them find more strength,

Until they reached the shelter where the trawler rode the sea.

Young Angus took the rope and slowly measured off a length.

38

He told them there was no-one now could catch them when they dropped;

For Murdoch’s son was with them at the wall.

His dad would have to drive the boat to hold her where she’d stopped.

They couldn’t risk an unattended fall.

He said he had to climb back down and try to get on board.

Young Murdoch, so much stronger, must stand fast

To ease them down the cliff face from that windswept ridge toward

The trawlers rising bow just when the highest wave rolled past.

39

The bigger man belayed the rope around a fissured crack

While Angus tied the end round his own chest.

Young Murdoch waved his father in and then took up the slack

As Angus started downward from the crest.

They watched the swells come rolling in ‘till Murdoch made it clear

Upon which one he chose to close the wall.

The bow rose up; the line was loosed as Angus, gripped with fear,

Pushed outward from the cliff to start his fall.

40

Young Murdoch though was trawler bred and handling ropes he knew,

So, skilfully, he gauged his friend’s descent.

Before the deck was hit he whipped an extra turn or two

Just as the trawler’s upward surge was spent.

Though hard, young Angus landed well and swiftly cut the rope,

Then grabbed the rail and headed for the stern

And climbed into the wheelhouse to the kids, now filled with hope,

And told them of their parents, trying to lessen their concern.

 

This epic sea poem is published in Book 2 of the Wanderings and Sojourns series “On Tropical Islands and Sparkling Seas” and posted here in serial form to celebrate the release of that book.  A new episode of this saga, each comprising 10 verses, will be posted here each day for 12 days. The book is available at the link below and will soon also be available from Amazon and all e-book formats as well as being available to order from almost every bookshop in the world.
 http://www.friesenpress.com/bookstore/title/119734000000426983/Jim-Scott-On-Tropical-Islands-and-Sparkling-Seas

Angus Donald and the Gale … Part THREE

This epic sea poem is published in Book 2 of the Wanderings and Sojourns series “On Tropical Islands and Sparkling Seas” and posted here in serial form to celebrate the release of that book.   The book is available at the link below and from Amazon and all e-book formats as well as being available to order from almost every bookshop in the world.
 http://www.friesenpress.com/bookstore/title/119734000000426983/Jim-Scott-On-Tropical-Islands-and-Sparkling-Seas

Angus Donald and the Gale

Part Three (verses 21 – 30)

21

As Murdoch kept the boat on station, sheltered in the lee,

Young Angus scaled that dark foreboding height

Until he’d clambered clear of where the solid sheets of sea

Could drag him from its surface, out of sight.

He made it to the summit, had to brace against the squall

Where wind and spray and rain became as one,

And bent toward his task now knowing he must give his all

And praying too his strength would hold until this job was done.

22

He edged along the ridge to where the yacht was now aground

And being smashed by every pounding wave.

And borne upon the keening wind he heard the fearsome sound

Of screaming from the kids he’d come to save.

He reached the crag above the yacht, uncoiled the length of rope,

And lashed a heavy stone to give it weight.

And running then on nothing but adrenaline and hope

He lowered it down the precipice, but feared he was too late.

23

The father then appeared on deck and took the rope in hand

And looked to where young Angus stood his ground,

And what then passed between them neither man would understand;

He tried to speak but no words could be found.

He reached into the cabin and was passed his frightened son

And tied the rope about his waist and chest.

And told to him as well he could the work that must be done

And lifted him as best he might, and Angus did the rest.

24

He heaved that lad full twenty feet above the breaking sea,

Then coiled the rope and took his shaking hand,

And worked back to the overhang above the sheltered lee

Where Murdoch and his son knew what was planned.

As Angus lowered the youngster down the skipper neared the wall

Just when the biggest wave came boiling through.

And as the bow came up young Angus let the youngster fall

Into young Murdoch’s massive arms who caught him square and true.

25

No time was there to undo knots; the rope was swiftly slashed

As Murdoch quickly worked the boat away.

And Angus coiled the rope again as waves and thunder crashed,

And eyes were stung and blinded by the spray.

He clawed along the ridge once more toward the boat below

And saw the dad and daughter waiting there.

So lowered the rope and watched the father ready her to go.

Inside her life vest he could see a sodden teddy bear.

26

He hauled the child with all his strength and raised her from the wreck

But, seeing her too weak to walk at all,

He cradled her against his chest, her arms about his neck,

And bore her and her bear toward the wall.

He struggled through the storm-whipped rain ‘till Murdoch came to view.

He lowered her down to meet him through the spray.

His arms now throbbed, his back was strained, his will though still held true,

Determined not to fail the ones in desperate need that day.

27

On weary legs he bent to face the fury of the gale

As lightening flashed in sheets of blinding light;

Knowing well just one slip and that maelstrom would prevail

And he’d be swept below to endless night.

Again he reached the stricken craft.  Again he lowered the rope

To where the father lashed it to his wife.

He prayed she’d yet be strong enough to climb, for he’d no hope

Of hoisting her alone.  She’d have to help him save her life.

28

The father helped her reach the rock and pushed up from below

As pieces of the yacht were smashed apart.

While Angus hauled she raised one timid leg a foot or so

And found a ledge from which her climb could start.

Crashing waves tried rolling her along that jagged wall.

The shards tore at her flesh; her blood ran free.

But as each trough would pass young Angus braced himself to haul

Until at last she’d climbed above that unforgiving sea.

29

Exhausted there upon the peak she fell, her spirit gone,

Young Angus had no strength to bear her weight.

He left her sobbing helplessly and turned to carry on

Though dreading that he may now be too late.

The yacht was smashed and broken, slipping lower with each wave.

The husband knelt defeated on the deck.

But Angus was determined not to lose a man this brave

Who saw his family first ashore while he stayed with the wreck.

30

This time though when he lowered the rope the sea tore it away

Which cost him all the time he’d left in stock.

And as the wreck slipped quickly down beneath the sea and spray.

The father desperately leaped toward the rock.

Miraculously he landed and was able to hang on

As merciless the waves broke on his back.

Young Angus looked down solemnly, his hope now all but gone,

But still he’d not be beaten, so he planned one last attack.

This epic sea poem is published in Book 2 of the Wanderings and Sojourns series “On Tropical Islands and Sparkling Seas” and posted here in serial form to celebrate the release of that book. The book is available at the link below and from Amazon and all e-book formats as well as being available to order from almost every bookshop in the world.
 http://www.friesenpress.com/bookstore/title/119734000000426983/Jim-Scott-On-Tropical-Islands-and-Sparkling-Seas