SHIPWRECKED MATELOT AT PORTSCATHO...

 Shipwrecked Matelot At Portscatho…

His vessel had been wrestled off course

By a tumult, a storm, a roaring bluster

And the order to abandon ship could barely be heard.

As the hull splintered, he was thrown overboard

Then felt himself propelled and his voice became hoarse.

He gripped debris with all the strength he could muster

But as he surged towards rocks he soon feared   

For his life as the rain lashed and the sea roared…

He was thrust against rounded boulders and slippery weed,

Oil slicks coating his drenched uniform.

Yet his sailor’s hat was incongruously still strapped

Beneath his lacerated chin, as he clung to and grappled

With the rocky outcrop, like a man driven by greed.

Cold fingers, desperate tears, the wiry blackened form

Fought and wept to avoid being trapped,

Until finally into a cleft on the cliff-face he scrambled… 

Pete Ray

10th May 2022

Took this picture as I walked westwards along the cliffs away from Portscatho because on the right side, the rocks seemed to form a figure in an old fashioned sailor’s cap and his face showed such desperation.

It looked like the figure was attempting to climb ashore, hence the above rhyme…