Published January 17, 2012
There are ships that move beyond worlds we know
They cast black sails between heaven and hell
With choice as their compass, they watch us grow
Far above, and just below, places we dwell.
No map or promise to believe or find
No men at the oars, no wheel for steering
On this voyage of self, of lonely mind
That ends where an answer parts a clearing.
Each sailor is with out lips or eyes
with no heart for blood, nor lungs for breath
They only know sadness, and true demise
Because their only time in life is death.
We are free to learn what Death may unveil,
All that Death asks is if we're ready to sail.
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The flow was lovely, up until this last line. The pattern of stresses just doesn't fit with the rest of the lines in the stanza, and so it feels awkward. Additionally, "from birth" doesn't make much sense. One possible reworking: "Awaiting our climbing aboard past birth."
"Men at the row" also doesn't make much sense. "Men at the oars" is what I'd suggest changing it to.
Either there needs to be a comma after "awareness", or I'd recommend rephrasing to "aware of none".
And here the meaning and rhyme both completely fall apart. "Anon" makes no sense in this context, and the passed/act slant rhyme is too far slanted to work, especially with the large difference in line lengths between the rhyming lines.
Overall, I really do want to like this poem. It deals with the subject in a way I particularly like, but the breaks in the flow and meaning seriously hurt this poem. If you could just fix those issues, this piece would be quite lovely.
That is a really neat poem! It was not what i expected at all! I liked how you ended it to tie everything together
Good Job!!
This was really interesting! It takes a very different perspective on death than I would have thought of. It flowed well too. The only thing I would revise is capitilizing Death since you're personifying it. That's all!
-Picklesole