| The Poetry of John Apple Bowman, III |
A MOST UNHAPPY SAILOR
About The Author: John Apple
Bowman, III (a.k.a. Captain Apple Jack) is a
retired US Air pilot with over 50 years flying
time including two tours in Vietnam where he
piloted fighter jets. As a retiree, he has crafted
two novels, several short stories including a
nostalgic period piece of star-crossed teenage
lovers that will touch anyone's heart who
remembers his/her first love, and a collection of
fine maritime poems titled "The John B III" a
few of which are offered here. Enjoy.
Bowman, III (a.k.a. Captain Apple Jack) is a
retired US Air pilot with over 50 years flying
time including two tours in Vietnam where he
piloted fighter jets. As a retiree, he has crafted
two novels, several short stories including a
nostalgic period piece of star-crossed teenage
lovers that will touch anyone's heart who
remembers his/her first love, and a collection of
fine maritime poems titled "The John B III" a
few of which are offered here. Enjoy.
"A Most Unhappy Sailor"
Along the wooden sidewalk, a cocky sailor struts,
In his pants his shirt and wallet carefully tucked,
The polish on his shoes a high sheen restores,
His eyes and cheeks like apple tarts, now happily aglow.
For he loves the tall red-haired woman, and today will to tell her so.
Then pretty Mary’s rowdy brothers, in a fit of boyish glee,
Did unloose the anchor rope, from the nearby willow tree,
And ol’ dog Ruger did become fast and outward bound,
The bristles of his back and neck fixed for a new fray.
Go on then “Bark away,” did fiery Mary whisper.
“Ruger thou art tied so tight for this important day."
Till past the kitchen window, Ruger’s bulky shape does bound,
150 pounds of German Rottweiler, with Mary's screaming sound,
A chase for the restraining rope too late, all too soon she found.
So Ruger presents the piece of navy cloth, his sharp teeth do sway
Her sailor man now running fast, back the other way,
A hole in his pants and a song in his heart, “Anchors Away!”
©2017 John A. Bowman, III [All Rights Reserved]
CAPTAIN JOHN McGEE
"A Boat of Birchen Bark"
Her song he heard across the sea,
Calling, calling,
Like the whisper of a willow tree
The beautiful Opal La'Ree.
A powerful chieftain he had become,
O'er time his tribe to lead and run,
No time for love of a stranger's things
Like the beautiful Opal La'Ree.
Yet upon this night he did prevail,
Her voice again upon a breeze to bring,
Calling, calling,
The beautiful Opal La'Ree.
It beaconed his heart to a foreign shore,
A step he had never taken before;
His tiny island no place,
For adventure or adherence to a fatal score.
Yet he hollowed out a boat of birchen bark,
That carried him off from shore;
Far, far he followed the brightest star,
The winds were high and the ocean free,
For his ride to the beautiful Opal La'Ree.
©2014 John A. Bowman, III [All Rights Reserved]
"Captain John McGee"
“The ship is mine,” said haughty Captain John McGee,
As he stood at mast, and scanned a friendly sea,
And we are all sailing, sailing, to a private port of call
For kings and queens, and brown-skin girls,
And swaying mango trees.
Till clouds along the horizon,
Did come creeping overhead,
And threatened to stall his port of call
Across a friendly sea.
Then rage they did, with high winds to break the tightest sail,
Raising giant waves to wash away the Captain's lonely trail.
And none ne’er did follow such a taunted lee,
Lest they too must swallow, the fate of Captain John McGee.
With kings and queens, most fair was he,
A simple hand to raise to change one's destiny.
Yet caring not, the storm did rage against the sails,
Of Captain John McGee.
And there the grave of more than one haughty captain,
Did the wind and waves of the mighty sea,
Surround and then so frivolously collect,
The one they called The Captain, John McGee.
©2015 John A. Bowman, III [All Rights Reserved]
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A BOAT OF BIRCHEN BARK
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