Sunday, February 7, 2016


There are bodies floating,
hanging, held aloft,
cradled in the restless,
hysterical, heartbroken sea.
there are stories, death kissed,
hearts abruptly stopped,
and there are father's
holding the tools to their misery.

Times when they stray too close;
loose their warrior's wounds,
finding sand, stone, undertow,
taking the past from young souls.
Caught by melody, by gravity;
drawn to the untold tombs,
wondering over their cold hands,
their bones, scattering shoals.

Deepening the lines of my face,
stilling nerves, pushing my drive,
calling me to their fates,
begging for love, for mercy.
I cannot look away, forsake them,
leave the vigil, keeping me alive.
For their memories cry out,
fill the air with anguish, tragedy,

Into the storm I must endeavor,
braving maelstrom, hidden reef,
over the water, silencing weather
giving the crushed something to



  1. Navy Jones ~ Great title and keeping watch over lost souls...enchanting words..

  2. Well done, Michael! Great tale and imagery.

  3. Agreeing as well -lovely describing in poetic form. The watchers were a wondrous breed.

  4. I love this:

    "Caught by melody, by gravity; drawn to the untold tombs"

  5. We all need a guide, one way or the other especially on a lone journey on rough seas.

  6. Stay with it , Byronic Revenant

  7. wow, this just caught me & wouldn't let go.