Adrift on seas of wine
Off the coasts of slate,
The golden bells of mermaids rang
Night's changes by the Gates
Of Hercules. The wind stood up
And danced upon our sheets.
A ship sailed through our window,
Its sailors robed in sleet.
Among them brave Ulysses,
Captain Ahab and his crew.
Stormtossed, they'd slept in silt
For an age, then sailed anew,
Northward to those seas of ice
Where iron seagulls rust.
From pole to pole they seek their homes
Long since turned to dust.
Above them fishing ships in fleets
Still strain the sea for gold,
While at their table Homer's wine
Refuses to grow old.
At times they shade our reefs of dream,
And we sense them as they pass --
Like shadows thrown by the moon,
Like whispers heard through glass.
Wonderful words from the workbench of a worthy wordsmith; sharpened and steeped in sapient insight.
Posted by: Frank P at June 5, 2015 5:20 AMGVDL, your thought potions, rhymes and rhythms are haunting.
"When iron seagulls rust."
Is our fierce eagle of dented but unbroken stainless steel, still for most of us a must?
When we wake from the glorious American Dream, will we re-member, joining the American Team -- not always victorious but never forever defeated?
Wonderful words from the workbench of a worthy wordsmith
Posted by: wikigurus at June 5, 2015 12:55 PM
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