The Stork
The ship extended huge, outside the dew,
his past, he thought, conducted on her track,
across the board, the skyline folded dark,
- a stork he was or member of the crew?
Thus, curiously stood upon the moors,
an epitome of time to e'er rejoice,
but stern, the sea-waves' hum repressed his voice,
or was the dusk that realness allures?
Upon the moors he stood, irresolute,
side-gazing for the sunken to discern
meanwhile the seamen deftness and concern
applied the coloring of nightly soot.
The dusk abraded, thus, the ship's details;
all shapes in numbness stood; without a word
the night, descending, linked the bird
with time's perseverance, head-ropes and brails.
The boats, directed randomly to trip,
loose wooden cradle-coffins in the bay,
surreal, formed a definite array,
where timely margins, undulating, reap.
(Their sacrosanct ascent designed the stairs,
for spotless angel forms to fly in blue,
the stork recalls the one-time rendezvous,
- this nightly ship, shall take his soul to fares.
Perchance they fled to skies - two passing glows
that cut through distances, in ardent Spring
a song for wanderers, harmonic link,
- pure emeralds the shoreline noon bestows.)
What foolishness of storks invites the ship,
our lives to marry on the silent quays
meanwhile four smoking ebon-funnels praise
our wraiths long flight on everlasting trip?
© 2012-09-25, G. Venetopoulos, All rights reserved
(Iambic Pentameter - revised on 2016-07-20)
The ship extended huge, outside the dew,
his past, he thought, conducted on her track,
across the board, the skyline folded dark,
- a stork he was or member of the crew?
Thus, curiously stood upon the moors,
an epitome of time to e'er rejoice,
but stern, the sea-waves' hum repressed his voice,
or was the dusk that realness allures?
Upon the moors he stood, irresolute,
side-gazing for the sunken to discern
meanwhile the seamen deftness and concern
applied the coloring of nightly soot.
The dusk abraded, thus, the ship's details;
all shapes in numbness stood; without a word
the night, descending, linked the bird
with time's perseverance, head-ropes and brails.
The boats, directed randomly to trip,
loose wooden cradle-coffins in the bay,
surreal, formed a definite array,
where timely margins, undulating, reap.
(Their sacrosanct ascent designed the stairs,
for spotless angel forms to fly in blue,
the stork recalls the one-time rendezvous,
- this nightly ship, shall take his soul to fares.
Perchance they fled to skies - two passing glows
that cut through distances, in ardent Spring
a song for wanderers, harmonic link,
- pure emeralds the shoreline noon bestows.)
What foolishness of storks invites the ship,
our lives to marry on the silent quays
meanwhile four smoking ebon-funnels praise
our wraiths long flight on everlasting trip?
© 2012-09-25, G. Venetopoulos, All rights reserved
(Iambic Pentameter - revised on 2016-07-20)
