Whispered Senryu

they came out for you,
the constellations in their spectral gowns,
Venus with her steadfast silver eye,
and we watched them dance,
only kamikaze moths shattering the silence,
their death songs shushed against the old hurricane lamp,
and we dreamt of ancient boats braving the sea,
our weathered faces lifted to the night,
eyes transfixed by the faceless pointing stars;

until somehow it no longer mattered,
if we reached the shore,
if there was a shore,
if we were together,
if there was a forever,
waves curling the colour of gun metal clouds,
ragged sails flailing like flags of surrender,
my prayer returns without ear, without trajectory,
bitter and cold against the roof of my mouth;

but the uncharted gloom has its own lexicon,
if you blink your stars out of the brine,
primal archetypes throw patterns in unlit light;
searching for reason, i negotiate with pain,
despairing solitude, i bend time in vain,
though i know somehow it no longer matters,
that I am sailing alone,
where the moon tides are borne,
that the ocean will mirror its conceived sky,
that the water will whisper senryu,
to sinking hearts,
in the voice of the guttural desert wind.

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40 thoughts on “Whispered Senryu

  1. Sigh….. so inexorably sad and beautiful. If you are sailing alone someone who has exquisite thoughts and expresses them so beautifully has to be found and treasured. Sail on in beauty !

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  2. despairing solitude, i bend time in vain,
    though i know somehow it no longer matters,
    that I am sailing alone,

    Despair in solitude but taking it by the horns and facing up to it. That is the right way. One is forever in control!

    Hank

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  3. This is so beautiful. It sang to my heart. I felt the sadness while all along envisioning the beauty of the sky, the stars, the images you describe. Really, this poem is superb.

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  4. Don’t think my comment posted, so I’m saying it again. Your poem is superb. It’s sadness went straight to my heart while I was envisioning all the lovely imagery you invoke. Truly this is beautiful poem.

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  5. I love Venus’s steadfast eye and the stars spectral gowns. In my mind the moths were banding against the moon, the hurricane lamp.

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  6. What’s not to love here with, “the constellations in their spectral gowns” and “ancient boats braving the sea”—and bending time, too? Wowzers…..this is utterly magical and mystical ๐Ÿ™‚

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