Odd Port II

My mind’s an odd port to spend an evening.
Why? It’s easy to pass the standard screening
Hence a motley mix of ships it harbors
Upheld by little more than Neptune’s garters
Therein lies the trouble. That man’s a myth
Thus, wears no clips to hold his socks up with.
Still, many vessels turn their bows its way
Picture Joppa, Dover, or Calais—
Countless kinds of craft are there to find
But none like those that anchor in my mind
At times a tiny tugboat brings a barge
Of finest pearls and emeralds at no charge
Less seldom, worthwhile cargo costs two fortunes
Yet is devoured like stolen fish by urchins
Most often, worthless, but exotic, ware
Lands and stirs up notice here and there

But half the vessels bound for here, I wager
Are sunk by spirits small and tempests major
Another third—perhaps the saddest sort
Lines the ocean bottom of my port
Having docked successfully, but later
Abandoned by some uncommitted trader

And so my mind consists of wishful wharves
Seeking titans, hosting mostly dwarves
I know if ever I’m to house the former
I must compete with beaches that are warmer
And since the climate here is so unsteady
That’s a contest that I’ve lost already.
I wonder, could I make myself a boat
And sail to a haven less remote?

What’s this? Cargo travels now by air?
Well then, there is little time to spare
I’ve heard that planes are trustier than ships
Alas, my island has no landing strips
Besides, the seven seas have been my friend—
Why bring that pact so quickly to an end?

My current harbor’s working madly now
Each sailor trying to loose this knot—but how?
Aha! This inkling leaves me merrier:
I’ll make myself an aircraft carrier!