Dinghies, those disreputable carts of the sea,
Driverless, and horseless, idle on the mud;
Out-of-date, yet still suffered; tied up
-As if they’d bolt-with chains to the jetty.
Touch one, and watch the red furious blood
Rising in some Lilliput admiral. Top
Of the tide, and they’re jostling like wild
Sea-chariots. Never was a tribe of midgets, but
They were like these little pugnacious,
Racial-upstarts; these sea-carts that a child
Can overload and lord it over. Put
One in the tide-race, where its spacious
Flat veranda-bottom entices kicks
And the sea will kick; show how a cart rocks.
Dinghies
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by John Blight
1913-unknown, 1
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Categories: None View OptionsModern PoetThis poet lived past 1955, but our researchers have included this poem in our archive because it is relevant to the study of classical poetry.If you own the copyright to this poem and would us to remove it from our collection, please contact us. We are DMCA compliant. Sign up for FREEA free allpoetry.com account is required to comment and participate. It's fast and free! 
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