Adrift Poem by Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)

Tis strange, this recurring
bout of melancholy
renders spirit low
malcontent
far from jolly.
Adrift, adrift, upon.... Sargasso Sea.

Tis strange, this monstrous,
recurring, bout signaling,
momentous melancholy.
Renders suppressed spirit,
low; marginalized malcontent.
Far removed from thoughtless,
singular; jubilant jocular jolly.
Adrift adrift upon an ardent sea.

Conditions of time peace of mind
creative mood must be mystic met.
Stilled turbulent thought untuned.

Emotive impalpable
impassioned before.
First freeborn stroke
structures definitive pen.


If aware of what wondrous thoughts
run raging within activated mind. Firing
shock waves that hammer convulsively
throughout electrified cells.

Imprisoned encased in vortex
personified. In grey ordered sentient cells.
Then would be reality known.
How great is ultimate failing?

How vast gulf between gutted creation?
That which! Was frugally bought forth.
Into exasperated existence!
Given decimated reality!

Unbounded quality
bordering inseminated being.
Languid failed
apprehended conception.
Remains a languishing
unbridged unspannable cavern.


Ruins attest
heightened inspiring lines.
Drained tumbling meaning.
Forfeit fallen Godlike state.

Sextant sighted charted course
adrift, alost, in perpetuity, among
horizon-less, emerald, shattered
waters. Golden light glazed
globules impenetrable.
Reflection off glassy gloss embossed
sea. Permeate imbue with dross.
Heightened expression is lost.

Stale air stale thought
no thought
nothing wrought.
Means no integration
disintegration.
Begun of all we bought
through centuries timeless wrought.

For every flower
to raise
symmetrical,
petaled head
toward seasoning sun.
A thousand aspire
expire
raise withered
grow in vain.


Copyright © Terence George Craddock