I’m lured into the water, song
of Syrens drawing on, though warned
it’s where the sprites live ’mongst the fins,
and currents flow undisciplined.
So verse emerges, freer form
no crits in swim, advantage of
poems for fish, amphibians.
But will those Syrens let me write?
I’ll scribe in sand, a glyph in rock,
a rhythm, rhyme as is required,
averse to sinking anchor hooks,
no books stored, continental shelf.
There’s volume here in bubbled air,
with waves as greeting or a snare;
but that’s the art of poetry,
both living, dead who chose to dare.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, UK, from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces curated and published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion. He has, like so many, been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com