Archive for wind

Sea Fever

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 25, 2014 by allisonlabine

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Photo: ©Allison LaBine     Click photo to open in full view.

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Photo: © Spring break 2014

Sea Fever
By: John Masefield

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

*A trick is the time spent at the wheel of a ship. Spume is the froth or foam found on waves.

 

2webcrop                                                                                                                         Photo: © 3/14

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Reflections of Freedom

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 30, 2012 by allisonlabine

Waves beat at the concrete cage,
Hissing –
You are my prisoner,
Through each age.

A seagull swooped down and called,
You have no voice.
You are frozen to this spot white tower;
In what world did you have a choice?

Fog choked.  Ice cracked.
The sun’s flames
Ceaselessly scorched.
Ships passed and
Sailors turned,
Even the moon’s silhouette burned.

Still,
The tower stood,
Separate and alone;
A thousand days
Blurring into one long night,
Silence –
Echoing in hollow bone.

Hear me,
Hear my voice,
Tell me I am not alone.
My ache was a whisper,
Before a hushed cry,
Now – a raging, burning tome.

Alone?
You are nothing but alone,
The wind screeched and moaned.

You will not speak,
Hold your tongue,
Your empty
Words, I steal.
They will stay down
Deep inside
Buried,
Quiet and unreal.

And now no more,
Your heart has slowed,
Your faint call falls on
Deaf ears.
Close your eyes,
And go to sleep,
You are not needed here.

But something heard,
Something felt,
The wake of life above.
And reached out,
Reached up,
With sweeping arms of hope.

The gull envies you for the
Heights you have climbed;
The wind and waves for your
Strength.
But your cage –
The one you have always known
Has been no one’s, but your own.

Bars built from your fear, and
Darkness reaching from your past,
Take down those walls, and
Dream –

You will be free at last.

-Allison LaBine

Photograph by Allison LaBine; Burano, Italy