will kilmartin
09-18-2009, 05:43 PM
this forum seems pretty quiet, i hope there's someone out there who can tell me what they think about this though...
I saw venus
the morning star
hanging low and bright
against a velvetine sky
the bead of lights
strumming the horizon
over the ocean
was like a bejewelled snake.
Then the lighthouses
which beckoned in the big,
prosaic ferry. However
the blinking messages
that they exchanged
with the blue and red and white
of other, further lights
were quite wonderful.
The alien concrete
perched like a coiled leviathan with corners
onto the shore
had been there but a little more than sixty years.
85% of the town was
decommissioned
during the war.
They have turned their eye-burning bedsore
of a Nazi submarine base
into an art space.
I saw light droplets
on stalks dangle from a pitted, grey ceiling
and approved.
( A post- modernist's wet dream,
like the brick- flavoured wallpaper
in our little holiday home.)
But the leftover ugliness
did not spoil my ideas
for I was caught up and captured
by the street lights,
little white chinamen
wearing blue belts.
And over all, the most real magic
was that of the ever- ebbing sea,
so big and so very lovely.
I liked it very much,
even the hundreds of thousands
of flies flicking
maliciously in the seaweed.
Yet the ossified greed
inside me throughout
the whole beautiful scene
screamed like a parched seagull
"How much more beautiful it all would have been
had I been alone and lonely!"
if you got this far, thank you for your patience.
I saw venus
the morning star
hanging low and bright
against a velvetine sky
the bead of lights
strumming the horizon
over the ocean
was like a bejewelled snake.
Then the lighthouses
which beckoned in the big,
prosaic ferry. However
the blinking messages
that they exchanged
with the blue and red and white
of other, further lights
were quite wonderful.
The alien concrete
perched like a coiled leviathan with corners
onto the shore
had been there but a little more than sixty years.
85% of the town was
decommissioned
during the war.
They have turned their eye-burning bedsore
of a Nazi submarine base
into an art space.
I saw light droplets
on stalks dangle from a pitted, grey ceiling
and approved.
( A post- modernist's wet dream,
like the brick- flavoured wallpaper
in our little holiday home.)
But the leftover ugliness
did not spoil my ideas
for I was caught up and captured
by the street lights,
little white chinamen
wearing blue belts.
And over all, the most real magic
was that of the ever- ebbing sea,
so big and so very lovely.
I liked it very much,
even the hundreds of thousands
of flies flicking
maliciously in the seaweed.
Yet the ossified greed
inside me throughout
the whole beautiful scene
screamed like a parched seagull
"How much more beautiful it all would have been
had I been alone and lonely!"
if you got this far, thank you for your patience.