Ship in a Bottle
his is a little something that boiled up to the surface in May of 1990.
Back then, I was still battling Demon Rum… whiskey, brandy, tequilla, wine, beer, and any other assorted adult beverages I got my hand on.
For those of you who are grammar fanatics and don’t already know, “hand” was made singular for a reason. Only one of them decided to show up at birth. Thank goodness it’s was my favorite one;-)
Anyway, I was nursing a cup of coffee at a Sherry’s restaurant in Canby, Oregon, while waiting for a favorite cousin (Elroy), to meet me for breakfast.
While I was waiting, this poem dropped in out of the blue. It was all I could do to keep up with the words as they fell from my pencil.
No work, just scribbling that took all of 20 minutes to create. Enjoy.
Ship in a Bottle “5/90″
by Dave Franzwa
Like a ship inside a bottle
I’d built my life with care,
the best materials were used
my craftsmanship was fair.
The hull would withstand, so I thought
life’s rugged shores of stone,
the rudder, hewn with pride, by hand
the course I’d set - my own.
The sails were made of far-fetched dreams
and individually sewn,
so sensitive they’d catch a breath
or a kiss, so lightly blown.
I thought the bottle would protect
my ship from any gale,
and with my own hand on the helm
was certain I’d not fail.
I sailed along without much thought
of other ships at sea,
whatever course I chose - I took
warm breezes carried me.
Until one day when challenged
in the straits of self-belief,
my sails were filled with fear and doubt
I hit an unseen reef.
My bottle broke, a thousand shards
of glass went everywhere,
now tossed into the elements
I sank into despair.
Not since the bay of apathy
with it’s tides of emptiness,
that washed upon those lifeless sands
had I felt such lonliness.
I drifted for the longest time
my mind screamed just to think,
the sea began to boil and churn
my ship commenced to sink.
my heart was gripped with panic
I fell down to my knees,
I begged god to be merciful
and prayed he’d hear my pleas.
At once the mighty seas were calm
the raging storm did cease,
and a precious, gentle voice began
to flood my heart with peace.
Be still, my child, I’m with you now
you’ve nothing left to fear,
you’ve trod this path alone thus far
from this point on I’m here.
I had to let you charge up to
the brink of life and death,
you know me as the carpenter
the one from Nazareth.
I am the stumbling stone of old
upon whom all must fall,
be broken, crushed and raised again
if answering my call.
From here on out I’m with you
no matter where you roam,
my spirit’s here to comfort, til’
I come to take you home.
Until that day, I charge you
live life and follow me,
don’t worry how you’ll manage it
my strength abounds in thee.
I consider now, each item
I surrendered at the cross,
and grateful as I hit my knees
I’ve suffered no real loss.
And now each morning, as I rise
I thank God for my life,
I thank him for my humble home
my children and my wife.
But mostly I just thank him for
His love throughout the day,
I guard the hope He’ll use me
as the potter uses clay.
I ask Your will, not mine, my Lord
be done through me, I pray,
and offer You this humble shell
as Yours to use this day.
David B. Franzwa
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Sis said,
April 10th, 2007 at 10:14 am
That’s a good one! Don’t recall ever reading it. Usually a little refocus will chase those ugly moods right away. Love you, Sis : )
jim said,
April 10th, 2007 at 3:43 pm
Very nice Mr. Franzwa. Very nice indeed. I’m looking forward to more.
Geri said,
April 10th, 2007 at 6:02 pm
Dave,
I felt it to be a very calming poem. Puts things into perspective.
Thanks, Geri
Nia said,
April 11th, 2007 at 11:15 am
Wow… That was just after I turned 4 and Dan was born… That was a long time ago. That was a beautiful poem, Papa. You sure do have a gift. I think I got a little bit of that from you, though I do not seem to find time for spilling all that stuff in my head out on paper very often. It’s a shame, but I always think of my stuff in the middle of other important goings on in everyday life. I am glad you have taken the time to spill out on paper what you have felt in your heart for others to see. What a great encouragement. Thanks.
Dave said,
April 11th, 2007 at 8:19 pm
Hi guys-N-gals ~
Glad you liked it.
Nia - I don’t find the time either. I have to steal it!
Oh. And spilling what’s inside my head out on paper is exactly what it is…
Without any of the sticky mess;-)
Well, I’m off to track down more ugly moods to slay. Wish me luck.
Dave / Papa
Jerry said,
April 12th, 2007 at 8:15 am
Hi Dave great poem thanks for sending this out, and not keeping it bottled up!! Yes and thanks be to God for all his mercy.
God Bless You!
Jerry
Cousin, Bev Knutson said,
April 12th, 2007 at 4:44 pm
Love your poetry — you truly have a wonderful gift. Thanks for sharing it with all of us! Also, what a great note to tell us how you attacked your “ugly” mood! Sure would be good to spend some time with you all soon– our love and hugs to you and the family!
Bill said,
April 12th, 2007 at 5:34 pm
Congrats Dave
Very nice. From Nias’ coment, it seem that you have shared a really important gift.
I look forward to “spillings” from the whole Franzwa family!
Hustin... the other daughter :) said,
April 15th, 2007 at 8:52 am
Daddy…..
Nia didn’t mention me at all… just her and Dan. I was already three at the time and she didn’t even mention me- Is that supposed to mean something? lol Like she said tho, you definately have a gift. I got parts of it too and it makes me so happy, at the same time I wish poetry could possess me also.
It takes me a little more time to “spit-them-out.” I can’t believe it only took you about 20 on that one. that’s insane! Knowing the background of the poem definately makes it all hit home. It’s nice to let everyone else reading your poetry get a bit of the background, too. I love you Papa! See ya soon!!!
Cheryl said,
April 16th, 2007 at 6:01 am
Hi Dave,
Gosh, I am certainly surprised by your talent. Where was all of that back in the 80’s.
At that time in our lives, I strangely remember the jokester and not the poet.
Well, no matter. It was a wonderful poem, and I am so happy that you have shared it.
Like all the others, I can’t wait to hear more. Furthermore, are you going to publish any of them. I for one, think this one ranks at the top. Even Max Lucado could do no better, in my humble opinion.
Your friend always
Evie Murray Hasty said,
April 30th, 2008 at 4:29 pm
Dave,
I was looking through Classmates.com and saw your sister’s name and it got me thinking about you. I googled your name and when I read about your hand and you were at Sherry’s in Canby, I knew it was you. Let me know what you are up to besides writing poetry. Jesus can pull you through the rough times. Glad you have him in your life. I have lived in Hood River, Oregon for the past 23 years. I have had a great guy to share my life with for 28 years. Connect me and we’ll catch up on each other’s lives.
Evie
Kathie Murray Alley said,
May 5th, 2008 at 7:01 am
Hi Dave, I just had to have a post right after my sister’s. It’s great to know what you are doing. I live in Hood River also, as do my parents and my 2 kids. They are all grown up now at 33 and 31 year of age, my kids that is. My parents are in their 70’s now and grown up I hope.I keep in touch with Gayle Long, she lives in Oregon City and her last name is Bland now. I remember high school band and all the fun we had.Thanks for the web page. Kathie