In your endless firmament you roil, you rove and wander
leaving me, inured ancient and weary on your crests
eternal ceaseless timeless and enduring.
I am strange Calliope here to see our union writ
upon my reedy scroll for Echo to cry forth into
the shadowy mountain crags.
I am Tersichore and Siva, dancing fire and unearthly voices
that reverberate in your depths and speak
of restless things, primordial, molded green.
I am Freya, a Valkyrie in the carnage you carry
on your waters, laughing strident at the sinewy
scraps that litter my steed's withers
mirthful as I pick the death from your back.
In my breast I guard your answers
the ciphers you seek among sages and grizzled Brahmin
with whirling dervishes and twisted desert hermits so long from your shore.
Your salty tongue longs for reprieve
laps lusty at my skin
and I am Eve
who quenches you and lays you still beneath Ursa's watch.
It is your tide that pulls me to your heady side.
Comments
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this is diffrent i really like the way you put the sort of
sun and moon flavor in their
it gives a sort of artistic feel
like poetry is art but this gives off a whole diffrent kind of artistic great job
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Laps well against the ear
Rich in sound and imagery; as in most of your poems.
Poor little Adriatic gets blamed for so much. I would have thought that just the Venetians, Greeks, Arabs, and Jugoslavs would have given enough material for historic carnage on its waters, let alone those that do not border its beaches and tides.
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Hmmm...I like your different descriptions and characters from many different places. Your rhythem and the beats are also good, although I would space the lines out a bit more, but that's probably just me.
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