America’s Tear

The Lion of America, while a forelimb of oranges seated anterior 

The Maine-d head; aft a member composed on beef and oil,

Runs chasing the ever-fleeing horizon, pursuing the promise of

New possibilities, carnal in desires, coupled with an adverse impulse.

The single tear cried by the august creature,

A single mourn for the loss of the beauty within, 

Of the wild; the last preservation of the purity inside.

Shed of Providence.

Dwarfed - though size misleading - and abandoned,

Never fails to rattle the soul within myself

Instead attracts my being stronger than any lodestone.

Years passed since my maiden voyage,

Never ceasing in plucking my heart strings.

The Island in R’ Island, one of the last great places.

A last-minute addition to my itinerary, an afterthought,

An excursion, to break the beating rhythm of life.


Disunited;

Yet isolation fails to detract from fascination,

For any vagabond recognizes time between localities

releases the thoughts beginning to throng one’s mind.

A crawling speed contrasting the metropolis crouching

in shades beyond view, awaiting pounce.

Contemplation resides in the moments between.


When espoused are mooring line and dock

Does my heart flutter with eagle wings

Soaring into the steely sky.

Brackish aroma fills my lungs, reassuring

My soul of tranquility. A light offshore

Wind is freed, misty with Atlantic

Ambition kisses my cheeks and urge

Further exploration. My cerebral appetite

Unhinged from corporeal gut, consumed

All before me. Every step, burden is shed

From my shoulders, the smell of sea and sand

Fill myself anew. Beginning my pilgrimage

Along the coast, each wave overlaps one another, 

sending the white bubbling crests descending, 

masking the sea glass shrewd shore 

with the transparent fading water. 

As tide retired, I began walking along

The aquatic frontier, feeling ensconced 

By hidden coves around every bend.

The sun’s lances pierced the powdered stone,

Warming the boulevard I walked along.

Anchored before the immense, boundless

Sea, these alluring forms reside

Within my spirit; long after my being departs.

Beyond shores, cups of nectar dot the countryside

Three great hundred and five dimpled,

New reflectance for each day of a year,

Rarely wounded and soon healed.

Bluffs rise above the shore.

Climbing, troughing one step at a time,

Following cairns place along the path.

Upon cresting the apex I was greeted

With the most pleasurable view yet.

Gazing down upon the quaint town

Which this endeavor began, retracing

The path travelled. Residing upon the horizon

Stood the prominent island; named

For its grandeur, housing the jaws

Of the restless Lion. A freshening gale

Could be felt, tickling my raw, exposed skin,

Not potent with brine, instead moderated

By the golden and green grasses. 

Whispers pass my ears, spilling

Secrets; persons past who stood

And stared and cherished like me. 

Swallow and sparrow songs heard

Over crashes of bubbling waves below.

The golden orange became punctured

By the metallic teeth to the west. 

Following my descent from the summit,

I gazed longingly back towards those ridges.

On the bluffs above me sat the pale moon;

the moon waxing brightly on the crisp August night.

The dancing wafer on ponds mimics that of a spirit,

Shimmering and wavering, never still, intriguing me. 


As I stepped upon the terminal craft,

Departing from the watery diamond

I felt a part of my soul bide on the shore.

Gazing behind, the Prometheus pillar gleams,

Chained to the shore, urging stately ships

To the mystic so close within reach. 

Disembodied from such beauty palpably,

Notwithstanding shall my mind be so moved,

Further it shall stand stalwart, forgetting

Neither the delightful quaint nor the lapping waves.

The lofty bluffs overlook Elysium manifested.

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