PAD Day 25: Over the Ocean, Then and Now

Busy day today, but I still managed to crank out three short poems and a "regular-sized" one, that last one just under the wire. Today's prompts from Poetic Asides and NaPoWriMo:
(1) Write an "across the sea" poem, and
(2) Write a "clerihew".

A "clerihew" is a light verse of four lines with an AABB rhyme scheme. The first line is the name of a famous person, and the other lines describe something about him/her. Meter and syllable count are not important; some clerihews even have run-on lines for comic effect.  So I wrote some "across the sea" clerihews:


Thor Heyerdahl
had us all in thrall
with his journey in a leaky
boat called the Kon-Tiki.



Captain John Smith
made landfall with
some doubts: "This will daunt us..."
till he met Pocahontas.



Mr. Charles Lindbergh
was no August Strindberg -
wrote no plays, but flew solo,
so low he could play water polo.


And here's a more serious one, based just on the Poetic Asides prompt:

Transatlantic Crossings

Many of us have ancestors

who came across the ocean

in a rickety wood boat

or a rusty steamer,

some of us of our own volition,

some in chains against their will.

It was risky, downright deadly

at times, with all the storms

and disease. So I shouldn't complain

that I will be over water

for the next six or seven hours.

I know about odds and statistics -

"You're safer than you are in a car."

But I also know if we fell in

from forty thousand feet,

it would make no difference

if it was water or concrete,

and even if we did survive

there would be no one around

for many miles to pluck us out.

So I pull down the window shade,

stick in my ear buds and watch

some movie I wanted to see

three months ago, maybe doze

for a little while, but not before

thinking of those immigrants

putting their lives on the line

to get to the promised land,

or the others who had no idea

what they would be subjected to

once the manacles came off,

while all I will probably encounter

tonight is a little turbulence.