My Boss, The President at the Boat Yard

               My Boss, the President at the Boat Yard

I am all that I seem

On a power trip,

I’ve created this scene,

And I captain my ship!

 

I balance my caring

With what needs to be done,

For I am deeply aware

Of my place in the sun.

 

We offer the best to all of our clients.

You have a suggestion?  Show me the science;

That it’s worth it to change a rule!

I still remain the company owner,

All my life, I’ve been playing the loner,

And I won’t be anyone’s fool!

 

I know sometimes, I may seem remote,

But it takes some detachment to choose.

I’ve got to keep this ship afloat

Or everyone stands to lose.

 

The sailors all have something to say,

But I’ve got to steer the course.

I’ll hear their ideas, but I’ll do it my way

If I have to do it by force.

 

We offer the best to all of our clients.

You have a suggestion?  Show me the science;

That it’s worth it to change a rule!

I still remain the company owner,

All my life, I’ve been playing the loner,

And I won’t be anyone’s fool!

 

Sometimes I wish we could all get together,

And pool our thoughts about how to do better,

And address our divergent needs.

I do my best to understand.

If I feel I am able, I do lend a hand,

But the company’s got to succeed!

 

You see -- my whole life is invested.

I can’t afford to take it slow.

I can be autocratic, just the way you’ve protested,

But you can pack up and go!

 

I’ve always had an open door,

But don’t tell me what to do.

I’m not afraid, though I’m waging war!

Show me you’re with me, and I’ll be with you.

April 29, 2021: Sea Fever by John Masefield, in "Treasury of Great Poems (Untermeyer)", page 1100.

Sea Fever

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face and a gray dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.