Sonar - Poem by Bill Mitton
What did I think was I doing here?
This was no old man*s cruise.
These waves belonged to the
Fresh faced, twenty something, sailors.
Their deference simply made it worse
Even here in this dark Sonar room
faces tinged green from the screen*s glow
My heart holds only loneliness
my mind ever on her who’s smile haunts me
and even their young laughter jars
The vow *never again* becomes a mantra.
And I dig inside myself for one,
Just one, small spark of joy
But my mind and heart are
Like the seas we sail, troubled and grey
*We have a contact* brings me from the greyness
and on my screen the dots appear and grow
strange, unusual contacts, *Go to aural* headphones buzz.
Suddenly my heart lifts, my eyes swim and my soul soars,
as my head is filled with waves of whale song.
Comments about Sonar by Bill Mitton
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You