Look deep into the well of the page's light
For there lie greater things still inside It's
Voluminous length that cannot be bit
By the intellect; not even heads white
With the crown of a brimming dam, a sage:
Whose mind may well overflow with the strain
Of keeping back raging torrents of pain
That come with memories bittersweet rage!
Yet see now where the words do run with ink
That has been sung from the poets deep bane,
Those things that did drive him quite far, insane
With the joy of love, and sorrowing chinks;
Regret of your book may be so likened
To the tear strewn path. For you were frightened...
Water Stains, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012
Like a window in the sky are your eyes
To my dwindling form; for you fly high
aloft in a sea of gold and crimson
While I do bask in the sunlight's below.
Fairer still is light beneath the skies chill
And frost than the treasured light of often
Lost wayfarers in a sea of trouble;
For sure as clouds are they soon turn to woe!
While I stand beneath the rains that do fall
Upon my head, that make needless the dew
Of the morn that glints in fair mornings light,
You must toss and turn in your great air show!
Forked lightening seen from the ground's easy
Shade reminds me that you must be weary...
Ground and Sky, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012
Lightening is but a fork of the sky,
But to me it is a cause for alarm!
I often wonder, and often wonder
Why God does make that which can also harm?
For as a toy in the bathtub, in hands
No larger than two inches wide, a babe
May play with his boat; but here I find bands
And Sheets of ice do pelt me in charades!
Would that the hand of God may come sooner
Than anticipated, for water does
Rise faster than a fair made white schooner
May come to my aid and save from what was.
Thus portents do always foreshadow this;
What a man fears, or fears no reminisce...
Portents of the deep, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012
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