Homework W/E 16-11-15: Seagulls Pinched My Fish and Chips!
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 7:19 pm
Shelley and I were discussing overly "cryptic" poetry in another thread, so I thought it'd be interesting to take a couple of these prompts as an incentive to dive head-first into that particular thorny briar patch. In-depth analysis welcome!
Seagulls Pinched My Fish and Chips!
Have you walked the hills of madness,
trailing stardust through your dreams
to the rocky coast of sadness
lit by moonlight’s fitful beams?
Yesterday must surely follow
on the path that you now tread,
down the gully, through the hollow,
where today must lay its head.
Have you climbed the hills of sorrow
to the cliffs of Languor Bay,
where the mermaids weep tomorrow,
spilling tears of sweet dismay?
If you hear them, crying, crying
siren songs of sombre hue,
do not fear the embers’ dying
lest, perchance, they sing for you.
While the frozen stars are nameless,
cast-off gods will hide the dawn,
pleading that they, too, are blameless…
innocent, and yet forlorn.
Linger where the slow sea wanders,
bidden by the moon’s command;
enter where King Neptune ponders
why wet towels gather sand.
Bow before his mighty trident,
headstone for the graves of ships,
and then ask him where the tide went...
and why seagulls pinched my chips!
© David 03/11/15
Seagulls Pinched My Fish and Chips!
Have you walked the hills of madness,
trailing stardust through your dreams
to the rocky coast of sadness
lit by moonlight’s fitful beams?
Yesterday must surely follow
on the path that you now tread,
down the gully, through the hollow,
where today must lay its head.
Have you climbed the hills of sorrow
to the cliffs of Languor Bay,
where the mermaids weep tomorrow,
spilling tears of sweet dismay?
If you hear them, crying, crying
siren songs of sombre hue,
do not fear the embers’ dying
lest, perchance, they sing for you.
While the frozen stars are nameless,
cast-off gods will hide the dawn,
pleading that they, too, are blameless…
innocent, and yet forlorn.
Linger where the slow sea wanders,
bidden by the moon’s command;
enter where King Neptune ponders
why wet towels gather sand.
Bow before his mighty trident,
headstone for the graves of ships,
and then ask him where the tide went...
and why seagulls pinched my chips!
© David 03/11/15