The Ship
The Ship
She arrived tangled amid a hazed dew,
carrying my past, dog hound tracking,
from years back, wide vision blacking,
and a stork I was, searching her crew.
(Thus I stood on those same moorings,
her icon remained - Christmas rejoice,
it was the sea hum muzzling her voice,
so I kissed her face that was alluring!)
Like a stork I aptly stood, on one foot,
side-gazing for sunken pals to discern,
as after my nautilus care and concern,
blackened was the ship with dark soot.
Dusk was silent, abrading acta details,
still numbness; maybe the ship stared,
as my foolish and curious eyes paired,
with perseverance, head-rope 'n' brail.
Around the ship were playful tripping,
many small boats like wooden coffins,
of those loved, beyond known offings,
signalizing sea roar of moor whipping.
..............................
Holy was my ascending of the stairs,
Angels walked with me, in night blue,
like then we recited, I guess it is true,
that a night ship, for our story cares.
And then again, we became swallows,
that bladed distances, kind to Spring
a song, for wanderers, harmonic link,
an emerald color of Aegean shallows.
..............................
What mind foolish, brought the ship,
closer to our night's odd ebony phase,
with two finger-funnels to sky praise,
my meteor stand, and awkward leap?
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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