Journeys

Black nights, blindfolded to heaven
Anchored beneath, a steel hell
Everything ill deed is given
A crescent moon bade farewell,
Far from the cold muted sea
Many nights pass still
But here, at these weary sides
In the clapping of cataract; tides,
Still-dumb to my soul-sobs,
And silent miseries in apex (my little syrups) .
Gladden and graced with sticky friends
In whole, a newbie so depend
Yet downstream on gentle strides
Many harbours stay lit all night,
Feasting, a whole of skin and hides
Against all, our own ugly delight
Our tasty pals, O' suckers
A million repulsive music-makers
O'er rocky and bloody ditches
In sugar-savored satan sandwich.
Turbulent per row, my son grow cold
Even if I weren't never told
These sails are anchored still,
Stained against time and zeal
May I breath ‘Aye' in glee
When hours shall reach its wee
A dawn on the other side
Before he shall call for the break.
I've stayed head-high above towers
Steadfast, a man and his oars
Bade farewell to the waves.

Friday, February 20, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: Nature
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
A man, whose prime call is to go home to see his dying child
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