Voices in the Mist

Voices in the Mist

Line 1: Anapestic Trimeter – – / – – / – – /
Line 2: Dactylic Tetrameter / – – / – – / – – / – –
Line 3. Trochaic Hexameter / – / – / – / – / – /
Line 4. Iambic Pentameter – / – / – / – / – /

In the first living hour of my day
Even in infancy destiny called to me,
Sweet the voice that drifted from beyond your shores
On misty Irish seas o’er Mersey Bar;

And I knew in the heart of my youth
She would not suffer for me to remain with you,
Softly she would call my name one fateful day
And take me over ocean waves afar;

As the hour of my day approached six
Destiny’s yearning was burning consuming me,
August’s balmy waves echoed distant cries
With passion I embraced the nymph of fate;

On the wings of adventure elated
Borne across oceans of darkest profundity,
Into crimson skies where setting sun declines
To lands of carefree days and starry nights;

Then at noon on the day of my life
Far from the land of my ancestors legacy,
Boldly in exotic fields of passion’s fruit
I harvested sweet bounties of desire;

But that lady of fate is capricious
Destiny’s fealty endures only fleetingly,
Cruelly she imprisoned me in my delusion
To drift a northern isle in Carib seas;

Left to drown in the depths of contrition
Caught in a vortex of turquoise-blue misery,
Breathing long forgotten threads of carefree youth
Recalling mid-December’s summer days;

In this last living hour of my day
Gazing through mist in the North the pole-star I see,
Sweeter still your voice that drifts from those fair shores
O’er misty Irish Sea from Mersey Bar.

Crosby Beach, Liverpool By Will Daviess

Crosby Beach, Liverpool
By Will Daviess

Distractions in Infinity

Distractions in Infinity — A Sonnet

I do not dwell on time; but time on me
Imposes thought that distracts meditation,
With chiding memories of what can not be,
A man derided by his own creation.
While high above infinity’s endless ocean
Where, from temporal realms, no echo rings,
The angel of existence orders motion
And time is but the beating of her wings.
She flies along the shoreline of mortality
Where waves of life break ever on the beaches,
Her touch imbues the living with vitality,
Her shadow is the threshold of death’s reaches.
    Her flight is clearly audible in the clock:
    Those silent booms between the tick and tock.

Walkowitz at Home -- David Burliuk Click Image

Walkowitz at Home — David Burliuk
Click Image

A Letter to Albert

imagination-albert-einsteinA Letter to Albert

Dear Albert, your resolve was well disposed
To conquer knowledge thitherto divine,
By which prophetic insight you disclosed
Deep secrets that our science could not define;
For only relative extrapolation
Can reconcile with objectivity,
Conflicting views—to give an illustration,
How time can march and fly, yet be a sea;
For while the poet’s verse portrays in reverie
Envisioning existence’s transpose,
Time flows and flies and marches the most verily
As visualized in your numeric prose;
For General Relativity decrees,
Time’s wings beat to the flow of marching seas!

Garden Memories

Retinal cell axons! Image: www.rpbusa.org

Retinal cell axons!
Image: http://www.rpbusa.org

Garden Memories

Carib sun, pastel sky
spectra felt with inner-eye
neurons fly, axons sigh
nerve-stems cry to visions high
Tactile breath, words of touch
hearts that melt as fingers clutch
hands that brush, faces flush
hormones rush as bodies crush
Flower bed, a body’s scent
psychedelic redolence
stigma rent to pollen vent
aroma sent in passion spent
Mists that form on memory’s fission
shrouds of time, intermission
trite incision, mind’s perdition
time’s derision, of my vision