The ship arrived surrounded by fog's dew,
his years she carried on her seaward tracks,
the wide upfront, horizon's line was dark,
- a stork he was, comradely to her crew.
(Thus, curious, he stood upon the moors,
projecting epitome of their rejoice,
and stern, the sea-waves' hum, repressed their voice,
enduring memory the dusk allures.)
A trenchant stork, with harbors in cahoot,
side-gazing for the sunken to discern,
Perceived the sea-men deftness and concern,
applied the color of night's darkened soot.
The dusk abraded then, the ship's details,
still numbness; maybe was the ship that stared,
as his persistent - curious eyes paired
with mind's perseverance, head-rope and brails.
Around the ship quizzical boats tripped,
like wooden cradles-coffins, they were stray,
companions lost beyond skylines' array,
sea's signalizing roar, on moorings whipped.
( Their sacrosanct ascent designed the stairs,
for spotless angels to walk amidst light blue,
like then the stork recited what was true,
- a dark night ship, for his bird's story cares.
And then they fled to skies - two comets' glows
that cut through distances, in ardent Spring
a song for wanderers, harmonic link,
- the emerald of Aegean shallows. )
What foolishness of storks, invites the ship,
stray souls to marry in night's ebon phase,
two finger-funnels tall, on skies to praise,
wraiths' upstage flight, on everlasting trip?
© G.V. 09/25/2012 All Rights Reserved
Farewell, then, AUKN boss,
The next this year makes three.
By the time they find a substitute,
Slovenes will be at sea.
He tried to cover his behind;
AUKN boss of bosses,
As every week, balances grew bleak:
He weighed merits and losses.
With all this he'd no time to eat,
And round and round he flew.
And now he's split in a hissy-fit;
So helmsman, too-de-loo!
Day after day, day after day,
He drifted on the ocean;
Guano-vernment rained on his ship
Their suggestions for promotion.
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Corporate boards crosslink;
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Let's take you for a drink.
Accountants talking rot: O Christ!
Missions, visions - oh please!
Yea, slimy characters need legs
And slimy policies.
So has he done an hellish thing?
Not hired who? We dunno:
Was it absurd, to have a separate curd
From the whey Slovenia owes?
This wretch won't play, after 60 days;
Pissflaps, he'll have to go!
God help ya, gospod Bencina
From the fiends, that plague us thus! -
It's time to go — shot like cross-bow,
The AUKN boss.
Ah! walk-out day! what evil looks
Had I from Ernst and Young!
Who's at a loss? AUKN's boss
Wouldn't take a bung?
"You'll be" quoth one, "abolished - no
Stigma to double-cross."
He chose to go - why? We don't know:
Harmless AUKN boss.
Re-reading the original gave me a great idea for dinner until I realised all the storks have all flapped off to Africa for the winter. Pity, as I have some ancient marinade from Tuš. Like the subject of the poem, I didn't have the stamina for a Coleridge-length effort.
The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand interprets important Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world. www.maria.si
Across the scarlet sunset ,
I see a little sea-bird.
Pretending to be strong ,
Actually its making a feeble cry.
Flapping wings again and again,
Its afraid and not giving a try.
The great sky and the vast sea ,
Is making its throat dry.
Everybody came to boost it up ,
Finally mother came with a fishful cup.
In the name of God ,
The little one jumped.
With eyes closed and heart thumped.
And wow , its magic ,
Its faith and love.
That made it fly ,
Above the sea and across the sky.
I swim to an unknown rocky strand, marooned by the captain's hand,
Up on the barren shore I stand, up on the wave-washed sand.
The sandpipers dance a saraband; could I like the birds withstand?
Held by the bars of a coral band, alone in a rocky land.
Where the river meets the sea.
I’m camping here in Denmark
Where the river meets the sea
I’m looking cross the river
At a bent and twisted tree
I don’t know just what type it is
But I really love its beauty
It’s a piece of nature’s art.
And mesmerizes me.
It’s branches reach out everywhere
In a gnarled and twisted way
It’s the coming of the sunrise
On this soft and gentle day
And this tree it looks so splendid
As the silence calms my mind
It’s to be here in these mornings
For this I was destined.
The tree is filled with little birds
All dressed in black and white
I don’t know what they call them
But they fill me with delight
A sight without the labels
Is a better way to see
So I just sit here gazing
At these bird’s perched in the tree.
31 May 2014 @ 0725hrs.
by the seashore
open your eyes
and you shall see more
of the world's magik
in front of your face
why oh why
would I ever replace
the memory of that foamy sea
crashing onto the shore
while the seagulls are laughing
with the children once more
who feed them with eyes full of wonder
to their curious delight
seashells from dead oysters
shine of the moon's pale sea light
as they mate like the birds and the bees
my sea kisses the sky when it rolls with the breeze.
Wind howling forlorn
thundering through the tree tops
branches crashing down
Snow swirling, whirling
coating all in pristine white
like diamonds glinting
Hear the lonely shrieks
as seagulls twist and hover
over the fishing boats
The sea rolls to shore
white horses prevail
the shells toss about
crabs losing their homes
scrambling to hide
Sea birds waiting
if they are quick
bad weather luck
all is calm
sun comes out
I do not know?
Hand in hand with the breaking pink light of dawn,
A light east breeze dances on tiptoes upon the water’s surface.
I stand on the wooden deck, looking out onto the quiet bay,
Scattered boats gently sway in their moorings.
Making me feel like I am flying amongst them - a bird on a wing,
Flocks of terns swoop and rise in graceful circles close beside me.
Dexterously stepping over the green covered rocks on the shore, three white egrets are here too;
They keenly pick out their breakfast in the lapping tide.
With a swoop and fall, a cormorant dives deftly into the water and disappears,
Moments later the bird emerges several metres away as if out of nowhere.
In a display of alternating flashes of grey and brilliant white,
Plovers so small and so swift turn and glide in controlled unison.
I glance northwards towards a distant gentle hum,
There great ships are silhouetted in the waking harbour.
I stand and breathe in true appreciation;
Oh, the magnificent beauty of this new day.
the shipwrecked sailor
from the North
lands on land
between the seas
nothing but trees
the trees shade him from the sun
in the sky
the sky provides a medium
in which the birds
from the trees
and the birds
nested in the trees
provide the sailor
birds to fry
the shipwrecked sailor
after his bird meal
still can’t fly