adventures in dysthymia

Monday, August 17, 2009


The wind blows nor' nor' east, tonight,
Not fit for man nor beast, tonight.
The thin clouds fly 'cross a darkened sky,
The moon waned to its least, tonight.

Our ship is outward bound, tonight,
To sea without a sound, tonight.
The tide runs high, the hawsers sigh
And dark lies close around, tonight.

A sure wind fills the sail, tonight,
A cold wind tells a tale, tonight.
It whispers why men strive and die;
Each song we raise must fail, tonight.

To distant ports we are away, tonight,
Beyond horizons far and gray, tonight.
The sea birds cry, the dawn we spy,
As we sail into day, from night

Stephen Brooke ©2009

I've been messing with this poem a while -- typically, a few lines sat in my notes for months, until they finally 'spoke' to me. Could well be a song, with or without a refrain.

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