Poetry Five ~ Longing

“On the Sea, we review our views of life.” T.S. Brock

Painting by Franz Kupka… “The Wave” Paris 1902 in the “Symbolist Tradition” and why not… The painting clearly symbolizes a woman taking on a wave… A woman taking her rightful place in nature and thus in society… The 20th Century at its origin… Brava! And then crashing down comes the merciless wave. The woman has been swept away… Or has she? There is NO indication of defeat. My estimation is that she surfed the wave in perfect harmony and rode the return settling on the beach under warm rays of sun…

Preface

Back in the day, ships sailing to the New World transported horses in order to trade for goods on the shores of the Americas. These ships usually got stalled for days or sometimes even weeks due to the changing winds – high pressure creates still winds – 30 degrees north and south of the equator. Out of drinking water, the crew were unable to survive. To save themselves, the sailors would sometimes throw the horses they were transporting overboard. Horses drink lots of water. Thus, the term, “horse latitudes”.

Horse Latitudes

I don’t think of horses

When I can’t sleep

in the early morning

but I think

of the horse latitudes

These creatures may be described

as gangly elegant beings

eyes first gentle with

such beautiful tranquility

like the grace of relationship

when stars and moon meet

are we not the same

I suppose animals have  

a more expansive vision

in their environments

Horses were never born

for man’s adventures

It was an opportunity

A chance meeting

Certainly not destiny

Yet put into servitude

Put into Wars and on Farms

Beaten down and

Refused dignity

worse things

have happened…

to our kin and kin

where other poems may begin

Sleep beautiful friend

For now you pass

Into the fields of heaven

When the winds fail

In mid-ocean

no motion

To remain on land

Would have been

The best notion

With the promise

of slipping into sleep

among the wonderful

worlds above and below

Let calm return

to our minds

slowly our ship sails

back to the sea

Shooting Stars

do not fall that far

we measure them

by the maple leaves

aligned on a tree

surrounding the sky

you sitting next to me

and it was so instant

glances from everywhere

strangers far and wide

would set it aside

as an anomaly

Yet it is just a stone

origin unknown

no one appears to

question its existence

the sky at night

a dark and bright wonder

what makes night special

is the unknown

an amazing home

of endlessness

where impossible stories

beyond our worries

exist in the same heavens

we strive to imagine

this is to say this star

no… not a star but a little

piece of stone

this falling stone

making itself known

when our luck runs out

will be a giant rock

immense and final

Remember us as wonderful beings

No. truthfully. We were idiots

We were wonderful idiots

We were what they called…

human beings

Falling Down

The perfect collaboration

between pain and embarrassment

love and abandonment

hate and retribution

has a previous context

but I’m not willing

to say these events

were pre-ordained

When falling

in a dream

It could be

from the moon

When falling

in love emotions

run wild

When falling on earth

It’s different

another form of

gravity called

injury