The river circles

back and forth

hazy in dreams

brittle in name

clear in realization

when faced from its bank

 

Sliver for the ferry man

 

O river Styx

River Styx

 

No light reflects

back

from its black

water

 

The river circles

back and forth

life and death

here and after

snake before a trebling

step

 

O river Styx

river Styx

 

Once crossed never again

to be seen

as Hades blows

the memory of living

from the dead

 

The river circles

back and forth

its water eternal

deep

 

O river Styx

river Styx

swelled by the weeping

for the dead

who know not

anymore what tears

are for.

 

 

 I burned bright

shone

shone light

back

to illuminate the moon

to cast an ethereal

glow

by which a

pair of owls

flew

their calls echoed

tooit twoo

sharply shrieked

amongst a small copse

of trees

 

I burned brightly

shone

shone light

across

a shaggy heather cropped

moor

dazzled diamonds drops

of dew encrusted

bracken leaves

unfurled majestically

fern tiaras

rising to crown

the high dale

 

I burned brightly

shone

shone light

far out to sea

bouncing back

of high white

wave caps

crashing back

on Flamborough head

shoals of mackerel

dive deep

out of the smell

of a solitary tar house

a hint of an old fate fated

from further up the coast

 

I burned bright

shone

shone light

through the past

over trees

moor and dale

over the empty waves

bare of cobles

and hard hands

to drag back in

heavy wet nets

as the shoals

of mackerel swim away

free

and one last tar smoke

house burns its last

lament

to  empty harbours

and bays

past fishermen smocks

now sold in tourist shops

 in Whitby

and Robin Hoods bay.

--
Posted By electroweb to electroweb on 3/15/2008 09:17:00 AM

   I rest my feet in ashes, lay my head on a pile of
   weed
   I sleep but fail to rest, I dream but not and
   nothing is given.
   I crawl though night time howls, the moon turns
   away its light, the stars seem so dim,
   I use the earth as a blanket, I kiss the dead, but
   they turn away also.
   No one likes the forlorn, no one is pleased by the
   meekly cases who drag back the good times to roll
   in the blank spaces left behind.
   I wish I'd wish for someone other than my own
   grave, but I know that I am too weak willed for
   that final gasp,
   So I wallow in the shadows till I can be arsed to
   get up and turn on the light again.