Windup my sail
Like falling, leaves.
Windup these pirate tales
What no one else believes?
Oh, quarter master—
Mistress of the high seas
Beat your drum
Let these oars men
Stroke each falling wave
Once and again…
Where nothings are nearly
Quite begun or ended…
Or recovered
With each rolling, days
Sirens sacrifice
Tossed up into
The foaming waves of what’s
Dew dropped into thee
Into me, still unknown..?
Oh, catch that thunder
In the harbour in the rain
Like linen
Touch the healing…
In the lightening’s
Craped ripped breath…
In the sunlight
Of your soul
Like a dove
With an olive leaf
Returning home
To a king of the truly wise
Wind up my sail
Tonight I drowned
At these oars
For the light!
Comments
scratch | January 21, 2012 - 14:47
This has a certain economy and depth of feeling that has elevated it above so many other people's work, that's praise indeed given the quality of the stuff posted on this fantastic site.
Mara | January 21, 2012 - 14:58
beautiful piece !
Mark Heathcote | January 21, 2012 - 15:24
That’s high praise indeed Scratch I enjoy reading Russian poetry a lot for its economy and depth of feeling…
Maybe that was my aim here.
And, thank you Mara I’m glad you enjoyed it. :)