© G.V. 29-10-2013 All rights reserved© G.V. 01-03-2012(Iambic Pentameter)Sponsor: Charlotte PuddifootContest Name: Any Subject, Any FormPlacement: 2nd
Our seaward route defines the night's faint trust;
recites untruths, upon the waters' wakes;
the brines transmit inside the breeze my past,
with demons transferring the moon's mistakes.
They are my ocean pals! From dark sea depths,
they jump and dance strange vested like buffoons,
and hold a violin or brass trumpet,
to gallivant around with looney tunes.
The stars, above, elusive, send their spark,
my pals embark night's boats with wooden laughs,
discerning critics of our ghostly barque,
where waxen maids regale on moon's behalf.
Some lovely group! Night's theater folklore,
with drunk musicians and chords distuned,
who awkward smile with swollen lips to yore,
in front of a half-hidden laughing moon.
They sing for me! Hoarse sounds, guitar slack strings,
brass horns, vociferous trombones and lyres;
my joker pals through airy jumps, they sing,
transmitting brassy, foolish laughs and tears.
And dancing they absorb my stare and thought,
(with anchor amulets that cables hold)
away they glide with sea-sung prayers besought
upon magnificent of seas, they voyage bold.
Saluting me, a dancer higher jumps
('mid pandemonium tunes - on island delf!)
while laughingly the chorus plays paeans,
avaunt he sails resembling myself.
© 01-03-2012, G. Venetopoulos