Nor first from heaven swings the stroke

i am soft mud, i haste the dark
descending of
old wood and nail. …i clasp the
anvil sound
of the ship’s bell- i forge its
destiny in the
cold, sloggering bottom.

i am eldering shadow, cast in
silver brine- i am
black about air, grimace casting,
i gather the
memories, the stillness, the tears;
felicitous providence-
i am master of the confessed.

i am unforgiving sea, hoaring,
beating sea. …
tumultuous wave and perishing
gloom; i send
to unsuspecting ships, falling
catching squalls;
i am the proffer of the voel.

we are fifty souls, our ship asunder
in storm and brine,
the wind, the whorl, the ride of keel;
breakers rolled,
ruinous canvas and rigging. …
our fate cobbled
into depths and braided misfortune.

Copyright © 05/09/2016 lance sheridan®

Poem image

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2 comments on “Nor first from heaven swings the stroke

  1. Barbara says:

    Magnificent images of a sunken ship, once strong and powerful, awaiting total destruction but hoping for a renewal! Excellent Lance – this poem certainly fits the photograph!!

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