Oceans of stars

A ballad poem because I wanted to.

1024px-Bruno_Liljefors_-_Streching_swans_1915

Stars strain at their moorings,

Ships that pass in the night,

On vast oceans of darkness,

And a path of pale moonlight.

 

Above the sleeping meadows,

And the stilly mirror lake,

The tide has washed the swans ashore,

and nothing’s left awake.

 

Stars that ride at anchor

In the harbour of the sky,

Wait for dewy morning

And the snow white swans to fly.

 

The morning star has faded,

And the swans flown from the lake,

The ocean that took you away

Rolls on though my heart break.

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Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

44 thoughts on “Oceans of stars”

      1. The house in Bordeaux is in the centre of town and we live cheek by jowl with several restaurants. Some pretty low life places. The scenes that go on in the street, couples bawling at one another, fighting, literally, the TV doesn’t have the monopoly on melodrama.

      2. That is for sure. I am always surprised by what people will get up to, there is no end to what humans can think of, and the idea that truth is stranger than fiction, well, I endorse it.

      1. I really do and there are not enough modern ballads aside terrible songs and duets. 😉 That’s a thought. You would be highly original if your first book of poetry were a collect of ballads? Then again just so long as there IS a first book of poetry (I have not forgotten, I will not forget, I’m so onboard I’m sinking the boat!) I’m happy!

      2. I don’t know. The more prize-winning published poetry I read—that I can see is good poetry— the less I think there’s much point. I don’t write clever poems, and I don’t spend hours over them either. The style isn’t fashionable and if they were laughed at, it would destroy the bit of confidence I have. Might put out some more stories instead. I’m on surer ground with them.

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