(Fog-horns, even bow-bells) poem, will you c/c if you may?

[Fog-horns, even bow-bells]



Nautilus on a cargo vessel, to avail,

devoid of an older route, and drift

his beats of abreacted pulse, to trail,

his home-land on cloudy forms, to lift.



Long locked in dreams, assemblage,

soul sails forward, spilled life's wine,

in Nordic Northern seas, God Brage,

unworldly lyrics to compose, in brine.



I reckon he befits an Angel, alone,

he plays a harmonica in broken notes,

a song for loners or friends, gone,

mistral petals him along, as boat floats.



I reckon he remembers her, a Naiad,

the sun crowns his head, far setting,

a dalliance, a harbor song, her bard,

depicting of his solitude's odd wedding.



In dark she comes, from away shore,

along windy fog-horns eerie call, in air,

she sails gliding, comely to invite afore,

Nautilus and all drifting souls, in despair.



She comes as bow-bells ring, and sings:

'Enfold me in your lone heart, and I,

shall lift your soul, with halcyon wings,

to fly in incipient stills, to imbue of nigh.'



She sings along, as drifts of mist repeat:

'Enfold me in your lone heart, and I,

shall lift your soul, with halcyon wings,

to fly in incipient stills, to imbue of nigh.'



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Copyright 漏 - G. V.- 11.29.2011 / 28985177(Fog-horns, even bow-bells) poem, will you c/c if you may?
Memories is all I got left now

And time seems to fly by

No leaf moves, no bird flies

And I remember the whole pack

Of lies...

There is so much pain

And so much despair

While you fly away

And appear nowhere...