A Rising Tide ?

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A Rising Tide ?

Status: Finished

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A Rising Tide ?

Poem by: donkylemore

Genre: Commercial Fiction

Houses:

Poem by: donkylemore

Details

Genre: Commercial Fiction

Houses:

Summary

That say a rising tide lifts all boats equally . But does it.
This struck me watching the tide come in on the quay.
The light had fallen and I was looking for the constellations but the moon was also full and dimmed all but Jupiter and Sirius.
I thought of those who soared in the highs before the recession and those it passed over . and the image of a stopped clock struck me - being right twice a day .Like these drowned hulks submerged in the tide - they are only pretenses of boats when the tide is out .
tried to string these together ..but its like most of mu stuff - excessive inflated by about 500%

Summary

That say a rising tide lifts all boats equally . But does it.
This struck me watching the tide come in on the quay.
The light had fallen and I was looking for the constellations but the moon was also full and dimmed all but Jupiter and Sirius.
I thought of those who soared in the highs before the recession and those it passed over . and the image of a stopped clock struck me - being right twice a day .Like these drowned hulks submerged in the tide - they are only pretenses of boats when the tide is out .
tried to string these together ..but its like most of mu stuff - excessive inflated by about 500%

Content

Submitted: November 18, 2011

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Content

Submitted: November 18, 2011

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Low tide at the Claddagh
And all the boats lie limpid ,
Listless . Beached  and lifeless as the  grey capstone pier 
Tethered with drooping ropes
Like shackled animals chained in the barn.

The tide rises and  at dusk , and 
Despite that axiom , not all boats are lifted equally.

The leaking boats ;
Drowned lifeless hulks ,
Fall beneath each onshore wave;
While  flighty schooners
Like a chain of fillies
And surging powerboats
 Are straining at the bollards ,
Ready for the off .

Boats slip over the horizon
Away from the misery of these wintry shores
To new lands
Of brightly colored birds
And crimsoned hopes and  pink-bubbled possibilities .

And some oil tankers pull away
From the docks in search of the loneliness
Only sailors seek out
Like soldiers fleeing life to the battlefield
Where to they charge in a masquerade of audacity.

The moon is full tonight
So full it dazzles all but  a star and a planet looking south ;
All but Sirius  which is too bright to fail
And Jupiter which is too princely-vain to miss this dark parade
Under the dark and misty sky ,making its own  conceited charade

I think of the leaking boats which didn’t rise
With that tide  which that lifts all boats equally
But like the poor they are consumed by tide  and time ;
Subsumed  by both ;they are only really boats
Like stopped clocks are really clocks only twice a day.
And the tide leaves them stranded in  the  false pretense of their betters.


And horizons rich and exotic far away
Beyond their reach or imagination
And  all the stars that twinkled bright in the darkness before the bubble burst
Are overpowered by the ferocity of this wash of mercuric  moonlight
And the canopy which delights
Only holds in her glow the brazen grabbing wealth
Which survived the crash.

How strange for those who soared  so high among the stars
To have fallen like Lucifer on the mud banks of greed and misfortune
In perhaps unequal measure .





Take heed ; some boats will rise with each tide.
Some to glide over the seas to new horizons
Others stuck lifeless on the mud banks
Waiting for the tide to go out once more
To give a hint of their  one-time grandeur
Before being holed repaired and then abandoned .

And if you bask in the mercurial glare on moonlight
There are stars , brighter that our sun beneath above the canopy
Waiting their turn to twinkle and bring joy back to the lifeless sky
Of jealous and  greedy men ,
Who lurk there in the clouds to make
A fortune from  some unfortunate’s missed opportunities
And bless themselves for being so bright
When all they’ve done is holed another's boat
Left a stranded human on the sands of time
Left them all on barren shores of lost causes
Destitution, penury ,misfortune and misery.

Their tide too will ebb
And their stars grow dim
And their boats too will find mudflats
Under their hulls
And strand their boats in the starless night.
And then from the sea-fog at the Claddagh pier listen out !
You may hear the wash of ghostly vessels risen from the dark
To sail  again  in glory ,on the tide of restitution .
Hear the cheery laughter of the stranded souls once more risen
And prayers at last answered .



*
we live in the gutter
but gaze at the stars .
O.(FOFW.)Wilde


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