Reading Poetry

I haven't written any poetry for sometime lately but I used to write quite a lot while I was younger, I think I sort of realise I wasn't entirely in tune with modern poetry (never been much in tune with this millenium full stop!) and I wasn't going to go anywhere with it so concentrated on other things.

A couple of friends expressed interest in it (id est my writing) recently mostly because they were interested in anything that came out of my brain.

Found this one which I was always pleased with and thought I'd post it to see what other people thought of it.

Yours,

Fisher King

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I sat upon a small forgotten isle
I sat upon a small forgotten isle
Built from the cast off shells
Of a thousand human dreams
Trees of knowledge lifted above my head
And swayed in the endless wind of despair
And all around me
Water water everywhere
But not a drop to drink
No poison for my taste
All specified to palates as yet unborn
Everyone has an area
In which they excel
And my was lost with the passing of the age of dreams
In lost canyons and hills of forest green
Where the mountains touch the sky
My place was among the alleys of Constantinople
The Armies of Great Alexander and Egyptian traders sailing
For from the beaches of my island stretches an ocean
As vast and uncharted as human intellect doth span
Specked with islands and glimpses of the truth
This vast ocean contains all ignorance
Every unknown, every not fact
All the antithesis’s to common sense
My path is clear I will sail upon the sea
I will build a boat of knowledge fill my sails with the windy desperation
And head towards the setting sun
I can fly higher than the highest gull
For no wind blows beneath my wings
I can go faster than the blazing tachyons
For my I am motivated, by the fear of death
(and the loss it entails)
I can travel further than the mindless probes
For I am the last great, British, explorer and born for this journey
I can go anywhere I can touch the stars
And into the west I head, away from the bent world
Fleeing before
The candle flame of hope flickers and dies in the wind of despair
And that briefest light of human intellect is gone
And I am alone
Last sailor heads towards the setting sun, alone in cold galaxy
These are his twilight days
He has touched the sky
He has left the mortal herd
And must find a place to die

- Fisher King

July ‘04

We were gods once and will be again.