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A long rambling poem about what feels like a long rambling time |
Leave [Closure, Part III] Checked 69 at twelve four four, sails set, early PM Silent, sliding out to shore, … he'd had enough by then The 12th day of the second month, his shadow left the room A ghost ship sailed, out to lunch, departed from life's loom Leaving spaces left behind, he sometimes hadn't filled Lost in hindsight, hard to find, the places ventured, milled Where memories long made reside, in gullys, running slow With panic rooms left at low tide, in galleys far below with something lost, you never had, why should it hurt so much? A hollow vast, that echoes, sad … reverberates as such A cavity that should be filled A space that should be mined An area with purpose, built, with faces hard to find Rooms left void, unoccupied, left vacant, never used A summer house with sun so shied, away... winter's confused Baffled by just where we are, the pieces off the board Squares vacated, near... far 'midst all the rubbish stored Hoarded, pointless, taking space, where hearts so strong should beat Spirits in their resting place Final, spent... complete With sins of fathers, falling fast, from trees such apples fall We hide in safe rooms built to last, in longboats, standing tall with masts left battered, fabric torn, surrendered to the shore Tasks in tatters, lost forlorn, hulls empty yearning more Like anchored ships in harbours, stowed, so safe in shallow seas Bobbing gently, ardour slowed, a cargo that should be Out there on the ocean's waves, riding foreign tides Charting paths with motions craved, …. and shipping charts aside Narrowboats moored broad in locks, with trade routes long since failed Secured safely in dry dock, watching tall ships sail Journeys that we wish we took, with tickets never bought Storms that leave us anxious, shook, wrecked, nervous... sails fraught Horizons red, start thinning down and sunsets slowly blend Not present for beginnings found, … nor seeing how they end All we have, a chapter's span, our piece in puzzles vast A brief respite of rapture, ran, from first ports to our last Some cross paths on calmer seas, on journeys through the night For some it's not that smooth a breeze … even when a course plots right Despite a lack of planning, schemed, sometimes a route falls in, so brief the time it's spanning, dreamed, … too slow with where we've been Despite such vessels matching, flown, the colours we are flagged Lashed in wind, so catching, blown, too often, eyes are dragged Torn to sea-bent siren's songs, … Angels of the waves Nights spent short, desires long, days spent strong, we crave Those moments when the singing stops, where beauty can be seen In-between the ringing drops, it's silence that we glean from the safety of the panic room, where few have been allowed For some it's safe to stay, presume, their space has been avowed Permitted... but not taken yet, encouraged, or endorsed With nights long, lost, forsaken... set and days short, shot and forced Sat dead out on the water, the SOS cries out Silent as it ought to, lost in sighs of doubt Hoping that they've noticed, the flare that fires mute Toned monochrome with sparks missed, … a need, set absolute Such ships retain their lessons, regardless, where they lack They leave a fair impression, … as they sail into black Marked by the survivors, who line up on the shore A Viking's exit guides us, forging onward, evermore To navigate such channels, minus signals being crossed Maneuvering through annuls, with the minutes getting lost There's effort in their capture as stories dip and rise Try making sure your chapters are read by caring eyes Read, absorbed, and taken in, blisters, warts and all Let them know they matter... Win. Those long ships, sailing tall with safe rooms housed in long boats, they have their time... their place, but when the flames climb, hope floats, that's when you'll see their face Checked 69 at twelve four four, sails set... early PM It's best not leaving, wanting more … it will be too late by then |