The molly-coddled generation, us.
You have it easy, you’re devoid of tales.
We’ve never stewed in Costa Rican jails
or taught Lee Marvin how to fight and cuss.
I can’t escape the feeling I’m a wus.
While Runyan had his Harvards and his Yales,
my yarns are all of Dylans, Crystal Gayles -
that’s concerts I was at. I’ve missed the bus.
Are ‘once-removed’ experiences fails?
Should everybody be a Josey Wales,
a Herman Melville, hoisting unsafe sails?
While Kennedys are cool, we need Dan Quayles.
Normality’s what finally prevails -
a life that never jumped the safety rails.
Yours, the ache of the living, not the dead;
You stand upon the shelf of storied men,
A glass-encased inheritance, unread.
A vessel, and a word can live again.
So peel away the pages, tear the spine.
This book is not your past; it is your skin.
You are the tale unwritten, not the line.
You are the fiction waiting to begin.
Break free the clasp that holds the book too tight,
And run into the storms you crave to face.
There is no rest for words, only the fight.
Your ink will run and blur without a trace.
Let the rain of each new age wash you clean,
And leave behind the story you have been.
Herman Melville once a cabin boy
his fiction/poetry gives such.joy
As a customs mn he spent his time
writing materpieces in rhyme
*Image of Pluto & Solar System provided by Pixabay.
Pluto
Plain as e'er, my founder's pewt'rish *heart region face Charon, echo coins gauge cross
Logging midway regions *Cthulhu, less tale more Pequodish, ruddy looks Melville errs
Union empowered eastern half wanes while western regions honorarium *Sputnik lord
The tail-end of Moby and thumper's regions is equatorial *Brass Knuckles ebony mask
Obfuscated, renamed hints an immortalized fiction, a dwarf, a tease, tho I'd be if was
*The four major regions of Pluto
2021 May 28
Did you flavor it with Hemingway,
or season it with Thoreau
Did you structure it like Eliot,
or was Melville more your go
The rocks you choose to stand upon,
supports to look beyond
As you add your face onto the mountain,
new words inscribed in song
Past voices serve to push you,
to that place you’ve never been
Where your breath may cleanse forever,
the stain
—of unoriginal sin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
I’ve forever written
as myself
Few influences will
show
Neither Hemingway nor
Faulkner
Not Melville or
Thoreau
But as one who saw through
all of that
With so much more
to know
I search the land
and stars above
For ink
—my pen to flow
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Be it Melville or Tolstoy
or a Pen still to burn
Know the words are just borrowed
—until silence returns
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)
Await them in town, to arrive from sea
Those who glow amidst war misery
With minds like mine, sure there are more
Yet honest tongues are few
Mocked once for passion, ridiculed
What's insane to you, to me is true
Born too soon, attract anger from many
They act like they don't want it too
From '49 to this here day, justice has always slipped away
I'm still here, eternal
Look in the moon
My darlings I was just like you
Ignorance was what left me for dead
I still see it now, in a hate filled few
Until they leave I cannot rest
Peace is my one last requisite
Last orders for me shall remain unheard
Until they change their views
Did you flavor it with Hemingway,
or season it with Thoreau
Did you structure it like Eliot,
or was Melville more your go
The rocks you choose to stand upon,
—just supports to look beyond
As you add your face onto the mountain,
new words inscribed in song
Past voices serve to push you,
to that place you’ve never been
Where your breath may cleanse forever
the stain,
—of unoriginal sin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
I ponder my existence beyond the breakers,
Navigating depth’s perils past shallows of youth.
Will I rise with the tides and lift up those near me,
Or will I drift along unanchored by the truth?
Avoiding a solo Melville-penned fate, or wreck,
Depends on my “see man” skills and good attitudes.
Striving to be a vessel of encouragement,
As my life’s journey marks increasing latitudes.
Experience stored as miles pass under my keel;
To have all the answers I surely don’t pretend.
With care and service among my mental cargo,
I am ready to help any mariner friend.
And so it is for all who sail upon life’s seas;
Constant watch on the horizon, helm, and radar.
Make no ties, steer alone, try to stay on course; or
Give the hope and guidance of a familiar star.
Be it Melville or Tolstoy
or a Pen still to burn
Know the words are just borrowed
until silence returns
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)
I must warn you, don’t board that ship, Ishmael.
The captain has an obsession, and is doomed to fail.
He seeks to kill this legendary white whale.
There are many other ships in this place you can board.
Many whaling vessels sail in and out of New Bedford.
On a previous journey sailing to the southeast,
the captain lost a leg to that elusive white beast.
He bears the name of an infamous Israel king.
Boarding the Pequod will be quite a foolish thing.
Based on the novel “Moby Dick” by Herman Melville.
Creature of deep seas
Battle scars from giant squid
A rare appearance
Stay well hidden from whalers
Inspiration of Melville.
A. Green
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.