Pitchers of dark ale
The new horizons have escaped the glass
in parallax 'mid old dimensions' field,
the captain sang stentorian and bass
Rossini's Requiem with his belly keeled.
The destination was on minds evince;
a crazy Mistral whistled 'mid the ropes
forlorn the waves with sea foam splashed to rinse
and cleanse with salty taste our blurry scopes.
We reigned alone upon the darkest blue
a drunken steersman conding us to hell
and when we spoke a tuna entered through
our open mouths to cause aghast misspell. :)
But coiled up round and dumb our hazy thought
to distant seas egressed, with drinks to hale,
a woozy balance ruled our deeds of naught,
and demons laughed with pitchers to regale.
The sailboat cradled happy 'pon the waves,
seesawing, mindless bird, deleted griefs,
with tunas jumping round we danced the raves,
all-night our techno dance avoided reefs.
We danced with maids that laughed and called our names,
their curvy foggy shapes we longed to trace,
but dark the flowing ale was causing games,
inviting sirens' laugh was death's embrace.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
(Its first version was first submitted on 8/30/2012)
Comments about this poem (Pitchers of dark ale by Giorgio Venetopoulos )
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