Thursday, July 5, 2012


Poet to soldiers

Camped on shore

Beyond iron bars:

No ships come in search of you

Not even a play boat

You are the dreamers

Crossing oceans

With thoughts of unseen shores,

Yet to conquer what you discover

Yet to rejoice in wealth and power

Ho, you are merely passive voices.

Rough rows have hardened your fingers

That have forgotten the piano keys

You, somnambulists

Pretend to ache with wounds

Hugged by Queen Elizabeth

Winning victories over the Armada

You continue to sleep

Bloom in the zeal of bugles

And tambourines of war

Never intoxicated by symphonies of love

And ever afraid of smiling ships.

Your lips never sob for ailing children

Autumn dreams never pour over you

Their fragrance of lilies

Neither have fairies blessed you

With peaceful sleep

You dream

Unaware of woeful setbacks

And loving spouses in mourning

And the rhythms of flowers blooming.

You sleep on, in hope of war

I laugh at you

In prison’s freedom

My laughter booms in silence

Oh, soldier,

You are sure to miss your sleep

The symphonies of cities

Kill my daytime sleep

And sing lullabies to snores

Coming from cellars

I wanted to write a poem

About electrical posts

In the rhythm of propellers

No stormy petrels

Soar up into my breast.

I have always looked at the sea

As the greatest fulfillment

Her noises have always

Cuddled me to sleep

Blossoming as seas

Rising as waves

Splashing into surfs

Are my young dreams

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