Red skies by morn'

Red skies by morn'

A Poem by Gideon X. A. Elson
"

A poem of a sailor, his perilous journey home wrought with grisly encounters. Longing for his lover things are not as they seem once reunited.

"
As I step out and onto the deck, I see faintly sunlight a distant speck.
With crimson clouds set upon the sky, as seagulls now begin to fly.
The mate comes lumbering walking, to the captain he starts talking.
Red skies by night begins to rehearse, the captain practiced in this verse.
Interjects in a hostile tone.
Warning the mate to leave him be, when skies of red in morn' we see.

My feet on bow eyes to the sea, my mind on a lover of me.
Distant dreams racing in my head, and if complacent soon be dead.
This deck is no place for daydream, as down below I hear them scream.
Twenty men perished in a flash, when a rogue wave struck and crash.
Poseidons wrath to be beheld.
When fifty men trapped at sea, and skies of red in morn' they see.

Departs the storm from upon here, stranded at sea felt o'er a year.
Again to shore my feet on earth, holy reunion and rebirth.
Driving me forward I must press on, dreams of my lover thereupon.
Wander through desert in the heat, twelve men now with nought to eat.
Fighting for survival alone.
How wicked it is man can be, when skies of red in morn' he see.

Six men remain with belly full, six men ashamed and now are ghoul.
They gather themselves and make haste, the burning thought they left no waste.
The grim realization of deeds, man will commit to meet his needs.
They disband now and disagree, in which direction they should flee.
Unwilling to gaze upon each other.
Shame eats them now as it does me, when skies of red in morn' we see.

Never would I have done what I've done, if that storm had never come.
To kill all those men in cold blood, and leave the bones lay in the mud.
If not me then another in my place, and see nevermore my lovers face.
Did what I must and it's done now, and onward trek through hell I'll plow.
The cries of dead men forever haunt.
Dreams of home that'll never be, when skies of red in morn' I see.

Alone I am now many miles to go, and in which direction I do not know.
When stumbled across a man of cloth, he feeds me now a hearty broth.
And asks of me my plights events, and lie I must of its contents.
For judge me not for all my sins, committed when a storm begins.
To reunite with her again.
Good in life seems absentee, when skies of red in morn' I see.

As I sit with this man here, a muffled tapping finds my ear.
I ask the man "what was that sound?", and peculiarly he looks around.
And turns to me as if to say, that enough talk we've had today.
And just as the preacher turns his back, up I jump and make quick for that tap.
A prisoners cries heard by chance,
Sad encounters abound, pity me, when skies of red in morn' ye see.

Stumbled across a woman's tomb, a woman with child in her womb.
Woman who death has not yet struck, but is searching for soon to pluck.
With eyes of red I turn to the stairs, to find the preacher where he dares.
With grief I deliver this man, back to God from whence he began.
Justice served the things hath done,
Who delivers this unto me? When skies of red in morn' I see.

Disturbed and no clarity be had, for was it that this man was mad?
Perhaps a secret hidden still, perhaps a reason for to kill.
This woman found in dire distress, secrets she'll keep and ne'er profess.
One thing I think is surely so, child of her womb the preachers though.
Upon my mind lest ye be judged.
Why must these horrors come to be, when skies of red in morn' we see

My thoughts again to my lover, the thoughts she'd have if to discover.
Horrible acts from prior when, and evil things that I have been.
And could she even love me still? And would she even have the will?
Truly am I kept in her heart? when miles and time do us part?
Perilous journey to partake.
To have my lover now with me be, when skies of red in morn' I see.

This journey brings me to a town, my gaze avoiding it stays down.
My ghastly figure try to hide, until I have been resupplied.
Hurry now I must from this place, I long to see my lovers face.
Back on the road and almost home, myriad miles must I roam?
So close now I smell the garden.
Many roses she plants for me, when skies of red in morn' she see.

Something terribly wrong I fear, the roses smell different this year.
Not roses but lilies i see, lilies for the dead not for me.
Worried now I rush for the door, to see my lovers face once more.
And as I pass through the threshold, my lovers face beauty behold.
O how I have waited for this!
My lover standing before me, when skies of red in morn' I see.

Go to take her with my embrace, as I notice my lovers face.
Not happy it seems low instead, a mourning veil upon her head.
Go to take her with my embrace, and see my hand pass through her face.
Fearful I pull and flee away, what grisly devil here at play.
I fall taken with final grief.
What power hateful aims at me, when skies of red in morn' I see.

I sit and take the morning sun, and entreat my creator come.
To explain to me what demon vex, and casts upon me this vile hex.
How long truly must I suffer, with no facility to touch her.
As I sit here I come to see, that my lover grieves for me.
Resentful now it makes no sense.
For when could have death called for me? when skies of red in morn' I see?

For where then lies my worldly form? Perhaps it still within that storm.
Far out to sea where breakers roar, and perhaps I was dead before.
This ghastly journey that I'm on, with crimson sky scenes set upon.
And all that misery I consume, it set before me and in bloom.
The reapers grim and black flower.
He gifted at this point to me, when skies of red in morn' ye see.

© 2022 Gideon X. A. Elson


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Featured Review

This long narrative poem makes use of the classic supernatural device of one dead who doesn't realize he's on the other side now. The surprise ending with the bride made me think of Poe, who often linked love and death together. The use of internal rhymes and the meter are mostly well handled. You might consider working on the concluding line of each verse, which is essential in maintaining the unity of the theme. Without some pronoun before "see," it comes across as awkward. Also, think about shortening the piece and, if possible, giving more detail to the events that transpire. I know that sounds contradictory, but I couldn't think of any other way to put it.

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Gideon X. A. Elson

1 Year Ago

I have taken your advice, qell atleast part of it and added the pronouns before "see", it seemed mor.. read more



Reviews

Wow, this is quite a write, enjoyable read though.
I guess narrative's are supposed to be in general,
intriguing read and nicely done

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Gideon X. A. Elson

1 Year Ago

Thank you and I applaud you for reading it long though it is 😁
It is well that I chose not to read this late at night. Wow! Reminiscent of a certain Edgar Allan Poe story about one Gordon Pym. But here, without the dubiously happy ending. Well written, exceedingly haunting. Nicely done, Sir.

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Gideon X. A. Elson

1 Year Ago

Thank you so much! 💓
M. J. Smith

1 Year Ago

You're welcome, Sir.
This long narrative poem makes use of the classic supernatural device of one dead who doesn't realize he's on the other side now. The surprise ending with the bride made me think of Poe, who often linked love and death together. The use of internal rhymes and the meter are mostly well handled. You might consider working on the concluding line of each verse, which is essential in maintaining the unity of the theme. Without some pronoun before "see," it comes across as awkward. Also, think about shortening the piece and, if possible, giving more detail to the events that transpire. I know that sounds contradictory, but I couldn't think of any other way to put it.

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Gideon X. A. Elson

1 Year Ago

I have taken your advice, qell atleast part of it and added the pronouns before "see", it seemed mor.. read more

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164 Views
3 Reviews
Added on January 9, 2022
Last Updated on February 20, 2022
Tags: Love, journey, murder, sailor, sea, death, cannabilism

Author

Gideon X. A. Elson
Gideon X. A. Elson

Keytesville, MO



About
I'm nobody important, but I do find life more bearable when I create things be it writing poetry, music, photography or rambling nonsense. I like to write in rhyme and meter, though must admit emphasi.. more..

Writing