They tryst and mingle - sailor's blood and sea -
such that earth-time, ticking, works enmity
to the breaker-cast eyes, the world-rim gaze,
final-harbour fixed and lanced with blue blaze,
and all-wanting of the eternal glance back.
Torpid time, torture time, trillion, quintillion time,
antagonizing the music in the surf;
Blessed Realm blood, set to Westernesse:
hostage to time, the soul is stretched on its rack;
sings, in sunset fire, until the world goes black.
Born from almost-corpse, spiritual infant,
with sun-counting conscience, that straddles
eternity and time, take into your sea battles
rum, rum, rum sweet rum, sweet rum, sweet, sweet rum;
take rum, sweet rum, sweet rum, sweet rum, rum, rum.
Word: Quintillion
Question: Why is the rum always gone?
This is for Word & Question as hosted by Shredded Cheddar.
Echoes of Thomas, of Hopkins... I wonder, did your latest Pärt note nudge along at all, or (I don't know what!)?
ReplyDeleteBravo, sir!
+JMJ+
ReplyDeleteI love that the line "Torpid time, torture time, trillion, quintillion time" has such a different meter from the lines that came before that it does seem to be "antagonising the music."
That was my word, by the way! =)
I'm not quite sure where the third stanza is leading, though! But I guess the run had to go somewhere. ;-)
Definitely, Bat, Pärt - yes. Thank you, kind sir. I think I kind of like the first stanza.
ReplyDeleteThanks Enbrethiliel. Thank you also for the good word! Oh the third stanza - frankly it's not nuts enough. It is kind of patchy though.
Are you a meter nazi? ;)
+JMJ+
ReplyDeleteI prefer the term "meter whisperer." =P