Idle Time Burns

Would that I could
ignite the seven seas and sail
a breadth of ocean fire
hitherto the mind-scream of
reality truants.

To have my life’s sails croak
and billow in the smoke of
burning coal eddies of adolescent tides,

A captain of no ship and all ships.

Amass a crew, shanghaied from
daydreams & docksides,
their lifelines smudged into being
across a journal with poorly drying ink.
A task demanded of each–
precise until it becomes paltry
from my falling apart–
anthropomorphic to-do lists
doomed to kindle my course
and ash my wake.

The ruddy haze of incessant amber
burns neon on each horizon
in every direction.
This day is the king of all days–
like yesterday before it and
tomorrow to follow tomorrow–

A captain of no ship and all ships.


2 thoughts on “Idle Time Burns

  1. This conjured piece of poesy could be either whimsical or a classical epic. It is more akin to active time, with the raging, shifting scene painted as the pen ‘smudges’ protagonists into life and the vessel leaves ashes in its wake. Despite the fearful bearing, optimism prevails when the captain/poet emerges strengthened by fire – like steel. A monumental message of maturing is carried in this formidable poem. Great work Brent.

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