For he be fighting the wind,
looming as if he is a kiss goodbye
who was dared to leave his treasure behind,
dreadfully breaks into a vociferation.
This eventide brought a blind moon
to shield his thoroughfare as
it dispersed into the cloak of wispy night.
Nowhere to leave while the air is wild,
the drenched land so heartless, he ventures on into
the tempest.
Oh, his heart moves him forward to
flee into the exposure of the precipice unseen ahead;
the sheer drop shall inquire his infatuation
for this dearest lady he forsaked to go on
voyage.
Frightened at the gold he might find
he had certainty within his soul even when
the giant watery mountains clash into his vessel.
Pressed his lips onto the cross at his ring finger
the shadowed sky parted with Moses himself have
come to help.
Squinting at the shattered mirrors ahead
a pavilion glows a dahlia bright morning rise awing
his tearful eyes.
His rose that bloom and wilt every year
he cares no more now his heaven is near.
A contest entry
- Darke-hearte. by Dragonmind.
700 points, ended November 14, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Ah, tragedy befalls a sailor. I wonder how to pass the news onto his lover....that's always a heart-rending thing.
In any case, that's what I got from the poem. Am I right? ^^ I liked the ending of your poem - the last two lines. Kind of like a finalization that yes, he belongs to Davey Jones' locker. OR, he finally fought through hell itself and returned to his lover. I like the tone of the poem, for one. It helped with the imagery. Lines like "Pressed his lips onto the cross at his ring finger" were very artful and did help with the imagery too. Good work ^.^
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