So this is the watermark The stranding after the deluge Tidal storms recede And I am wreckage on your shore Gulls hover Strident cries they scrabble For cast off sparkling trinkets Dead flesh Winging requiem for a life unlived Slip the yellow tape boundary Drape daisy chains and platitudes Across my fractured hull
Would you find wild beauty In weathered wood Barnacle scars And the echo of measured surf Set this longship by the sunstone Radiant light when skies are heavy Sullen with winter chill Would you cleave to the beat Aegir’s heavy hand on your prow The moon pull of open water The tease of salt spray On full lips whisper my name One more time Quiet Voice across the deep And I will breathe
Will you simply wreath My memory “ see the line of my people back to the beginning Lo, They do call to me” Cast the fire and plot the stone ship Pebbles skipped cross brackish water My legacy sinks Little rippled terminus Wont shred butterfly wings Or froth the wild tides To the maelstrom So this is the watermark Strand my heart With one spilled tear TL Boehm 09/03/2014
Aegir is a norse sea god the sun stone was a viking navigational tool - a stone that reflected light even in cloudy weather The quote is from a Viking Burial Prayer. Contrary to myth - vikings were often buried in the earth with the grave outlined in stones in the shape of a ship. I don't write pretty poetry - and this is a lamentation of sorts for my lack of ability to write something beautiful.
If you want to sacrifice the admiration of many men for the criticism of one, go ahead, get married. Katherine Hepburn Altar-ed
Imbedded in my memory Scratchy soundtrack moments at 33rpms The wicked life I led Wine soaked nights Days steeped in bourbon blur Pagan cadence to the sacred space Thrumming drums of pen to paper Cryptic rhythm of words slurred In sweat and desperation My imagination I reveled in potential pleasure So many suitors spellbound and broken In my wake I take nothing The carnal flesh set for sacrifice On the altar of forbidden dreams My mind sullied, body clean
And you came with sober notes The subtle structure of a tempered life Traded my tambourine For shackles Mother, wife…. Dry eyed I cleave to you Under quiet skies My mind recants The rigid friction of your words My body yours when this mind’s empty Adequate sacrifice for the sanctuary Of dreamless creeping sleep.
TL Boehm 070408
a bit on marriage I supposed. And past lives half lived.