gone the time for finding fault
for finger-pointing and assault
frantic now the SOS
our ship of state is in distress
taking water, sinking fast
this call for help may be its’ last
mastered by a crew of fools
as kids are slaughtered in our schools
shamelessly the talking heads
politicize our precious dead
stopping not to catch a breath
vultures in the face of death
the FBI in disarray
sickening the things they say:
“protocols that were ignored”
lives that cannot be restored
taking water, sinking fast
this call for help may be our last
Joe Tessitore is a retired New York City resident and poet.
Powerful, Mr. Tessitore. Unbelievably sad, the line: “lives that cannot be restored.”
I love your metaphor here, Joe, and the catalectic trochaic tetrameter you chose for this poem makes it somewhat hymn-like–reminding me of the great hymn of the same meter, “Jesus, Lover of My Soul,” which also speaks the same sea/ship metaphor, and which is a cry for help in its own right:
Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high:
Hide me, O my Savior, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide;
O receive my soul at last.
Very beautiful comment – thank you so much!
Interesting blend of classical-type rhyme and metre with bang-up-to-date subject matter.
Could not agree more. Nice poem.
This is very impactful and – though I am an observer from another land – strikes me as very wise and brave. It is well constructed, powerfully rendered and, to my mind: an important piece.