This is not a plotted course
Of summer sunrise, sand shores;
Our vessel's battle scarred and worn;
Our honor and our sails are torn;
Have all the crew abandoned? -Mother?
Mutiny won? Loyalty smothered?
Where is the truth on which we tethered?
Has integrity and valour weathered?
They have now gone; you as well?
Are we forced alone to sail?
And now with holes within our pail,
We fight fruitlessly and bale.
The poor, they joined to pay the rent;
Falsities; now, our sailors spent;
Are they worse than when we went?
What are the reasons that were sent?
Why all the ruin? Were we deceived?
These sandy dunes contain no seas;
Where is blue water? Tell me please;
Was it right since we beleived?
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Comments: 17
Dena's elegant style has that subtlety that lends itself to this type of topic.
As a journalist, I write non-fiction; I've written one work of fiction, but I couldn't have written this if I had been given a month or ten of Sundays.
I think this kind of poem is very hard to write, but it's a wonderful kind of piece to play with. I'd suggest trying this content, which certainly has meaning enough, in a very opened-out almost stream of consciousness form, fragments of lines standing alone, and perhaps regrouping together the images that are here spread among the stanzas.