Patra, Marina

This poem is from a book I'm working on of poems based on great poems I love. I have taken their format and the basic style and tried to craft my own poem like it. Just for fun. Not to compete. This poem is based on T.S. Eliot's Marina. Patra ( “Marina”) Where ships where shells where swords where bursts upon the brain and the flames climbing the masthead the shadows growing long and sharp in the evening the gulls crying through the mists and the steel falling like knives what memories stain O my little one Those who lie and cheat and steal, meaning war those who devour the lost and unclaimed pieces, meaning war those who take and never give back, meaning war those who live in dark places with rot clotting their tongues, meaning war are judged without quarter will shrink before the masters while the holy wind tears through and sweeps the hate and rape away where the streets strip away the clinging sand where strangers watch those coming back from the battles with eyes of bitterness where the women cringe in the corners and weep it’s a world gone astray a world without guidance a world without rules or anything worth grasping how fight how live how save how give how hold with the wind shaking your legs and the waves on your face as you lie in the surf face down with nothing left to give and the sparrows staring through the mists empty and weary what memories remain my little one