The Titanic.

Silent and deadly, foggy night,
a cold sea holds the Titanic might.
Carrying on without timely remorse,
the ship continues on its fatal course.

Where the hell are we the captain wondered,
the part of knowledge, where he blundered.
His teaching now would not save lives;
just save the children, ladies, and wives.

An iceberg is hit, and a sailor makes mayday calls,
water comes gushing in like the power of Niagara falls.
Mayday ! Mayday ! the message was now clear,
with all the passengers now living in fear.

A ship sails behind -  but isn't very near,
the bad atmospherics meant it couldn’t hear.
Lifeboats ready but they are very few and small,
meaning; there was no room for second class at all.

Who’s the plank who built the Titanic ?
Thinking it was unsinkable was really manic.
From a shipbuilders dream, to a bloody disgrace,
your ship was sinking without a trace.

Written By Wayne Hudson

The Titanic by Wayne Hudson
Copyright © 2000 Poetry Now East (Poetry Now)
Originally Written In February 1995