Celebration day
The sea birds sat upon the wharf,
our dusky friends have been the shades
and the transmittance of our days,
is floating on the ocean surf.
How beautifully words gather
in solitude to build her form,
rose petals wreath inside the storm,
- was I her soul's ideal lover?
As soon as bells of Sundays ring
decode designs on ancient loom,
what students in their course assume,
geometry on blackboard clings.
How Oxford blue the harbor is,
befogged the town's horizon hides,
fair constellation - unknown brides,
Athena's blest, my soul's aegis?
The sea birds sat upon the moors,
and waves explode to windward foams,
the tiding in my glancing roams,
meanwhile withdraws to verse detours.
Along the aural sceptre of morn,
(Soft and inspiring silence is!) ,
across the exploding water's bliss,
as soon as windy oaths are sworn...
... maybe if we reasoned with gods,
they'd recreate our school years' play,
revive our celebration day,
on peaks where versifying molds.
And if we smiled at the wharf's sorrow,
wraiths shall return and join in mists,
amid new rhymes and palms kissed,
our celebration of tomorrow.
© 2013/01/22 G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserve
(Iambic tetrameter)
The sea birds sat upon the wharf,
our dusky friends have been the shades
and the transmittance of our days,
is floating on the ocean surf.
How beautifully words gather
in solitude to build her form,
rose petals wreath inside the storm,
- was I her soul's ideal lover?
As soon as bells of Sundays ring
decode designs on ancient loom,
what students in their course assume,
geometry on blackboard clings.
How Oxford blue the harbor is,
befogged the town's horizon hides,
fair constellation - unknown brides,
Athena's blest, my soul's aegis?
The sea birds sat upon the moors,
and waves explode to windward foams,
the tiding in my glancing roams,
meanwhile withdraws to verse detours.
Along the aural sceptre of morn,
(Soft and inspiring silence is!) ,
across the exploding water's bliss,
as soon as windy oaths are sworn...
... maybe if we reasoned with gods,
they'd recreate our school years' play,
revive our celebration day,
on peaks where versifying molds.
And if we smiled at the wharf's sorrow,
wraiths shall return and join in mists,
amid new rhymes and palms kissed,
our celebration of tomorrow.
© 2013/01/22 G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserve
(Iambic tetrameter)
