SINBAD

SINBAD

My soul, it is not clean for you, my heart is quite contrary,
I sail this desolate ocean like an asphalt, wind-swept prairie.

I come to you with flailing stony arms,
An embrace of flaming crusty steel.

But winds in the desert blow fiercely northward,
Winds that bring the reins of change, winds that turn the wheel,
As if afraid to fall in love, as if afraid to feel.

Romance flees from the sultry reverie of a pirate on the seas,
In the stone cold ache of winter, you cannot hear my pleas.
Love lies ripping at its lonesome seams,
In the humid stillness of the night, I toss and turn in fitful dreams.

I still live a silhouette, in love with my reflection yet,
And you prefer to not acknowledge me,
Although I call your name in vain.

I see mirrors of the past, when our tarnished love was true,
When you and I we swam in sync, reflecting pools of crystal blue.

In evening’s grand and gallant shade, or in the fountain of a maddening mermaid,

I can see inside, despite this patch, the portals of your peril-
Speechless spies can see inside your mind.

Let the curtain fall and come to me,
Let the fever rest relentlessly.

I will taunt you ‘til a million milestones
Lie murdered by your lonesome throne.
Machinations dire and weighty
Haunt my dreams and those of my mateys.

Pervasions of evil cover the eyelids of Sinbad,
Slashing his sword as your mind he comes reading,
Hiding his black heart, into the ocean bleeding.
Frozen in time, you lie in wait for your departed spring,
The albatross around your neck, a bird that won’t take wing.

My soul, it is not clean for you, I sail my desolate sea so wary,
And your spirit haunts my moonlit dreams,
Like an asphalt, wind-swept prairie.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED