Sitting on our shore and watching a solitary sailboat navigating the Lake Erie waters. Made me wish I were manning the rudder and unfurling the sails for a trek. In lieu of a boat, we’re writing a sail poem (or a sale poem). That’s a bargain for sure!



They’re there at Sayles
selling their sails,
sail sales always prevail!
From here to there
they sell their ware,
so the boats can go 
from here to there.
You can see them 
lined up in a row, 
but without a sail
that’s the only way they’ll go
merrily, gently down the stream.

(c) Walter J Wojtanik - 2022


Apparently you notice Marie’s absence. She’s taking a poetic pause to spend some Nona time with her beautiful granddaughters. She’s earned a Sunday off, so I’m going it alone.

65 thoughts on “PROMPT #398 – SAILS FOR SALE

  1. Sailing
    The sea of life
    Destination ahead
    What’s over the next horizon?
    Only the Ship’s Captain knows

  2. Winds blow
    Against the sail
    In the wrong direction
    It’s up to us to stay the course
    Lest we crash against the rocks

  3. I’ve never been a Sailor
    The sea was not the place for me
    I chose to wear the Blue
    For twenty years
    Air Force


    Who blew upon my sail?
    That I might ride the open sea?
    I reckon then, the hidden God is by my side—
    to tame the perse, unruly blue.
    ‘Twould be a sailors rotten tale,
    like all pompous, bloated liars do;
    but I’m tellin’ ya straight—for the first time,
    its true!

    © Benjamin Thomas


    is a pleasure
    downwind of the puffing,
    unless, of course, the sails begin

  6. Pingback: 7 August: A Sailing Tanka – It's Still Life

  7. A Sinking Star

    Me and this sea realm,
    and a fickle wind sneezing
    against the sails
    like the Hesperus into
    fistfuls of dark inked water.

  8. Real Real Estate

    Almost 10 years into our latest house
    the one we call our forever home,
    the toes-up place,
    last stop before the old folks dome.
    I once heard a guy at Home Depot,
    talking about the bargain he got,
    a house for sale for too much, too long,
    and he said he picked it up for a song.
    They wanted three hundred, you see,
    he stole it for two fifty-three.
    We have something like that,
    (well, not really,)
    since they asked for the moon and the stars,
    and we said okay, then tossed in the sun (so far).
    It’s fine, we say, because here we’re staying,
    forever and a day, (at least so I’m praying).
    Remodeling is always pricier than planned,
    but, not to worry, you see it’s all good,
    we’d only waste that money on frivolous stuff,
    you know, like clothing and food.

  9. Peaceful Scene

    Tall grasses fringed the shore line
    looking out on a flock of sail boats
    floating on the calm water like ducks.
    Their triangular white sails
    pointed up to the steely evening sky.
    Purple mountains ridged the opposite shore.
    I sighed and made a wish.

  10. Love your poem Walt and I hope Marie creates memories with those adorable little girls.

  11. Stakeout

    Her stakeout was Macy’s Franchise.
    With eyes like a hawk, she checked tags
    for when clothes she liked dropped in price.
    Her stakeout was Macy’s Franchise.
    She waited for sale merchandise,
    three markdowns gave her the green flag.
    Her stakeout was Macy’s Franchise.
    With eyes like a hawk, she checked tags.


    They say actions speak
    than words.

    Yet both begin as
    of actionable thought.

    It all depends on the
    what is said and what is wrought.

    © Benjamin Thomas

  13. If I Could Go Back

    If I could go back
    to Point Loma.
    I’d still like
    to stand on the hill
    watch the sail boats
    on the Pacific
    and stretching as far
    as I could see.
    I’d like
    to take in the wonder
    of stillness
    and watch their frail frames
    and sails taken by the wind
    while below the ocean
    pulses and breathes.
    I’d like to take in
    the reflections
    as endless waters glisten
    under a watchful sun.
    I’d like to gaze
    at the statue
    of John Rodriguez Cabrillo
    with arms stretched to his side
    greets the boats in his watch
    as they come and go
    as casual outings reflect greater journeys
    the stories of explorers told
    well beyond mortal lives


    Broad brush strokes of Alizarin Crimson and amaranth, American Beauty Rose is a miss that lusters like a ruby in the noonday sun. Auburn tinted leaves leave little to imagine, but the grin that spreads from ear to ear is clear. Brick and mortar are not built for speed, indeed they are solid; a structured foundation upon which lives are constructed. We’ve tucked our collars up and the skies remain changeable. Unstable weather not withstanding, Fall is handing us a sneak peek at the peak of the season. There is no reason to stay sequestered, it has festered for as long as you’ve been marooned. Soon the Cardinal will perch on barren branches and the chances are slim that Winter will delay.

    All fruited hints of a tint so rusty; ruddy and bloody replacing candy apple and cherry, (although grapes make great claret; burgundy) and we see the sun diminish at the finish of day. Unfurled, our canvas sways and stays billowed like a skyward pillow capturing the breath of Him. Scarlet spinnaker shadowed in silhouette, you have yet to pull anchor, thankful for this moment.

    A descending sun
    back-lighting the horizon,
    transitions to fall.

    © Walter J Wojtanik

  15. I apologize for not posting any poems. I wrote a poem on Monday WHEN I was at my blood doctor. Good/ bad news day. I will try to post it tomorrow…


    Here lies a seaman, far from home —
    well, no surprise, we’re telling lies —
    we’ve written words on this cold stone
    but saved his bones for Davy Jones.

    He lived his life upon the deep —
    his sails were spread around the world —
    we thought it only fair and square
    that his last lee be in the sea.

  17. On Monday, I was on my way to have my blood checked… I was anxious and I was hoping the iron patches were working, and they are, but on the way there I saw a billboard that that even the skeletons are cramped…. and then a song of Peter Gabriel got in my head that is called Mercy Street. My only contribution this week…

    Burying at sea…

    This morning
    I decided to bury my fears.
    They take up too much space
    And even the skeletons
    Are being cramped.

    I went to a friend
    Who knew how to sail.
    “Take me out to sea,”
    I asked.
    I wanted to take the boat out…

    He looked at the clear sky,
    And said, “I smell a storm coming.”
    I smiled, “We will be fine…
    Maybe we should wait until darkness.”

    “No. that won’t work,” he said.
    “Good,” I said, “we can go now.”
    I helped to lift the sails, and
    Set out for the deep waters”

    He asked, “What is in the bag?”
    I smiled and gave him a kiss,
    “Just some useless items,
    And a few skeletons.”

    “Did you say skeletons?”
    “Yes, they have been cramped
    In my chifforobe and
    I need the space.”
    “Should I worry.”

    As we got closer to deep water,
    I pulled the bag to the edge,
    And he stepped over to see
    What I was throwing away…

    The bag seemed heavy,
    And as I dumped the fears
    And skeletons made splashes.
    He looked puzzled, “There is nothing
    In that bag!
    And what is making the splashes…

    I smiled, “My fears were heavy,
    And the skeletons
    Are bad memories.”
    I gave him a kiss and said,
    “I need to get rid of them”
    The fears tried to grab a hold
    As we turn our boat around,
    And I caught a glimpse
    Of a skeleton laying back
    As it floated to the bottom.

    The ride to shore
    Was filled with delights,
    And my friend smiled,
    “I am glad to see
    The lightness in your eyes.”
    I hugged him close,
    And laughed as we
    Watched the sails
    Begin to catch the sunset,
    And become tangerine and magenta…

    How to you like my fanciful tale?

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    August 11, 2022

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