Faroes

I would to the Faroes go if I could,
Those windburned, ice-kissed isles,
Where nothing is but rock and sea
And grass, and civil twilit noons;
Where the wails of infantile men are outkeened
By seabirds' cries,
And the rumbles of inconclusive greeds
Wane behind booms of rebounding waves;
Where curtains of snow and sleet and rain
Act as ramparts, turning aside
All comfort-seeking travelers:
The claret-sippers and day tour trippers,
The "spend the whole time by the pool" toe-dippers--
They don't belong here; they shan't intrude.
But oh! Grant me passage, I'm overdue,
My need for such bare-boned isolation
Has risen like brachiate strands of kelp
That strain toward a winking, weakling sun.
From this heaving, heeling, half-sunk ship
Where I have cabined,
Cast me aside, toss me overboard
And let me drift
Northeastward to the tor-banked fjords,
Where Thjazi's gaze may ramify
My sodden corpse, and from it coax
What buttercups I've not yet groomed.
Yea, let me wash up on those shores,
No longer body, but blooming tide,
To vivify the bluffs and berms
With golden merries o'er all bestrewn.

Reviews

[Nusquam Esse]

I quite like this, both in style and theme. I too would rather beaches of black stones, cold waves, and only your thoughts for company over the beaches that many vacation at. Perhaps if I had a darker complexion and a lighter persona? You use subtle alliteration which makes the lines enjoyable to read aloud without feeling contrived. I particularly like the imagery you give in the third part as you groom the bloom. Far better a read than most I see on here, so thanks for sharing.