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I've been working on an anthology of poems about being lost at sea. Largely because I am becoming more and more interested in dense textures and the futility of human will given the inevitability of titantic elemental forces. This was my first.


Submitted:Nov 24, 2009    Reads: 160    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


(Island)

When descended on the ocean old,

Heavier than heaven and less controlled,

You seem at its distant rim to rise,

To lift and drift and ride the sky,

Until the overburdened brain,

Wearied by labour and waves of pain,

Like a dead pendulum, doth retain,

Only its motion, not its power,

Remember in that most perilous hour,

When the grey crystal sky most afflicted and oppressed,

In the night there shall come forth rest.

The storm hath overflowed its margin.

From the distant isles distanced,

Ever restless, restless, restless,

Currents of the violent main,

Hope for sheltered coves, and reaches,

Of gold drenched beaches,

To find yourself again.





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