Sunday, June 07, 2020

07 June 2020 - Plague Journal Day 87

We all are still sheltering in place, but I'm here to keep you sane and entertained.
One could hardly ask for much more than that, now could one?

Here's a poem I wrote many years ago in the alliterative style I associate with Norse skaldic and Old English poetry.

Prime

The ocean floor, salt and sand,
Lacking waves: no more a sea.
Drying earth breaks, cracks of death
Split the land: integrity deny.
Sea birds flocking, circle flight,
The ships afloat no longer feed.

Sun-drenched wind forms hill on hill,
Sordid mealtime: wolves at hand.
Thirst and hunger, arms of death,
Artifacts of bone supply.
Tiresome toil, warm soles by night,
Heat-sights: terror; bright heat: sleep.

Revived, it dies, the river's edge;
The Phoenix rising, seeks its life.
Seam of giving, flowing seaward,
Seeking new life, righting old.
Rushing whiteness, swirls around
Land is gone; Roiling: the world.

Sight dimming, fog inside.
Taste and sound no longer felt.
Deep breath heavy, damping thoughts,
To drink: salvation; to breathe: demise.
Current carries, seaward home,
No cares: floating: journey done.


Keep Calm and Stay Away.
I'll be back tomorrow.

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