ignatz
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calling (a poem by ignatz [serious too]
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Apr 20 04:15 UTC 2001 |
i lie awake on nights in which i hear them calling.
persperation pours off my head throughout the moon's eerie falling.
and should i answer if i could, would i really want to,
for what could i say to those i couldn't save and died in the ocean
blue.
some hero i am though rewarded for noble atcs of salvation.
i risked my life to save all i could but i myself left to damnation.
the ship had sunk near one or so i can't really remember,
but i do recall i it was freezing cold in the late, late night of last
november.
we were too late really to help, closest, however, to save the day.
but the wreckage we saw and the dead floating about pale faces and gray.
we scouted for hours hoping to find survivors among the insanity.
they were all dead, frozen in the water, i could almost hear the words
"save me"
after we collected the dead with help from a tanker, i cried in my den.
and ever since i have not shipped the pacific and i never will again.
even though it was twentysome years ago, in the cold november howling.
i awake with a jump from the middle of my sleep for i still hear them
calling.
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ignatz
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response 3 of 4:
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Apr 22 05:21 UTC 2001 |
well thank you. when i was in school, i actually had a poetry class. it
was one of few classes that i passed. i just, however, have been
experimenting on other setups and schemes on my writing. but i do get
serious sometimes. but serious or not, poetry is still fun.
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arianna
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response 4 of 4:
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Jul 18 21:44 UTC 2001 |
that line that dan mentions, "the moon's..." has such a rushed quality to it
-- it reminds me of the feeling you get when adrenaline hits your system.
The moon is usually described as travelingt he sky in a more slow, stately
manner, but the idea of it rushing is reflective of the fear and shock of the
author. good show.
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