THE MAN WHO SOLD THE WORLD REPLIES
There is no dream on Walden’s Pond
where once blue-green waters
lapped the shores noisily
in the liquid swirl of an October wind.
Long gone is Neruda’s verse,
the vision of the isle he called home;
the salty breeze, seaweed and sand
he found in the rugs, in his bed
reminding us the way the ocean
ignores our being.
It just continues on, timeless, alone.
No, there are no dreams,
no hopes, no desires,
just the whispering of the lonely sea
counting each grain of sand
until the end of tides.
So really, there wasn’t much to sell, just the constant ocean pull as it
threw out its waste on countless shores: shells, dead plants, ships that
dared to roam on its waves, then crushed for its arrogance, drift wood, even
human souls, all cast upon the shores. So what I sold was waste; wasted lives
and their deepest sin. Until that is I met you. You, all green eyed innocence
desiring the sweetness of life, alive with song. But Morrigan, that “Damned
Queen”, she saw you, possessed you with her false dreams and shattered my
Hopes for eternal life.
Yes, its true, before she could take you I snuck into your room, it was the eve
of your wedding, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered except to drown in
your kiss, to bathe in your woman’s scent and make you mine!
Yes, you screamed at my audacity, at my atrocity as you mounted me and
begged for release as we rocked undulating like ocean waves and we made our
blood pact. I took you again and again and we floated on the moon. All the while
you cursed me with your tormented rage. I think it was this rejection that
caused me to finally give in to Morrigan’s demand. She banished me to remain
forever under the sea, pinning ceaselessly for your bloodless white, creamy
skin; for the shape of your breasts nestled against my chest. Dreaming of your
emerald green eyes and the beauty of your face; hungry for the taste of your
still innocent lips where songs of the Moors play on.
What else could I do?
In protest, I sold the world.
Yes, because I could, but even more
cause you were still there
and I couldn’t have you!
Maybe like everything else,
I too will wash up on the shore.
Sins shaped as drift wood,
wrapped in sea weed,
smelling of salty decay.
Then I will come for you my love.
~~redzone 5.24.05~~
There’s too many good lines here. I enjoyed how you switched styles and compared obsession and a failed “relationship” to the sea and sins washing up on shore.
Will there be a part 3?
I liked how this poem came out. I never saw them (Obsession and this one), as Part 1 and Part 2, though I realize that’s what they are. A part 3?? not sure, it’s been 20 years since these 2 poems were written, but I will think about it.
Thank you ‘HER’. I am glad you enjoyed the read.
My pleasure.
I did.
This is very good. I even went back and read it again, to absorb all that it offers. It’s well thought out. Quite an accomplished write. I love that it held my interest all the way through. Well done.
And I am happy the poem did hold your attention. Great compliment, thank you, Styxian
Compelling throughout & what a novel concept you have introduced me to .. Story poems so become you .. and consequently awarded x5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐plus the prestigious Nev’s dubble 👍👍
5 stars and Nev’s infamous “double thumbs up”, what a wonderful honor!!! Really, thank you, Neville.