Adressed To The Poets Of The Twenty-First Century

[IrishCanadian]

The strong wood on surf gives way ans creaks,
The bitter sea torments and speaks,
Posiedon's arm commands and calls;
I can hardly withstand the surf's great falls.

I hear inside the calls of wind,
So savagely spoken, my thoughts and sins.
And on the sky is pressed and pinned
A name freshly leaves my heart skinned:

The ancient angel's name you bore
(O saintly song the earth once wore)
Will not live on upon the shore
For burried at sea lies lost Lenore.

At sea were words for kings to jear,
At sea were words to beckon tears,
At sea the water, of you, had fears--
But that fear was lost 'last hundered years.

In the wind lies that shadow
But the thought itself has become widow;
And in the sea the minnow fails
To hold the place once held by whales.

Lenore! Thou shouldst be alive this hour
To calm the sea with your majestic power.
Let the imposters sink or cowar
Before your sea of word's inspired power.

[IrishCanadian]

I made three alusions to other poets here. Two are grossly obvious, what do you think? . . . I mean, besides the preachyness?

[blp]

Lost Lenore is from Poe's 'The Raven', an exceptionally well controlled piece. Hope this is not too harsh, but you could learn a lot from Poe about metre and scansion. Yours is kind of all over the place. I'm no great attender to metre myself, but you're in a half-way house, doing a very traditional type of poem with rather archaic language and tradtional verse's most obvious attribute, rhyme, but without really knowing the craft well enough to pull it off.