For the wind was contrary

The wind had tossed, the night was rough

But now the seas had calmed

The moonlight bathed the sea in glass

A shining orb, embalmed

Across the glowing surface they,

Amidst reflected light,

Would cast their weary sailing eyes

To contemplate the night

And as their contemplating grew

A shadow in the distance rose

Each eye towards it fearsome drew

Each heart of hearts in each man froze

Upsprang the Wind with violent rage

As Lightning fired across the sky

Sang Thunder quaking all the stage

'Neath which lay crushed, a fisher's cry

Who fought against all nature's will,

Against, with arms, a troubled sea,

A shadowed spirit nearing still,

With fear and trembling, battled he

Then penetrating all the noise

Through darkness insecure

He heard the voice, he heard the voice

so soft, so calm, so sure

While billows tossed and tempest raged

Impulsive, yes, but unafraid

The voice had so his fear assuaged

He leapt, just as the Master bade

But as he crossed the space between

The fourth watch wind crashed all around

And while he sank with frightened mien

He prayed that he might not be drowned

______________________________

Copyright © 2011 by Layne Cockcroft

All Rights Reserved

Thirty Six

She swept across the silent night

So swift and smooth, she slid

Upon the eerie breeze she crept

And in the shadows hid…

She brought the darkness and the cold

That speak for her malaise

The one engulfs the weary soul

A cumulescent haze

As dark as night, as black as hell

Her suffocating gaze

The other cuts through skin and bone

As if the blood were ice

She slivers through with burning cold

To force, if not entice,

To rip, to scar, to shatter then

To grip in excess vice…

I will not of myself thus be

Destroyed beneath her breath

Oh Jesus, Son of God, mercy!

And loose these chains of death

______________________________

Copyright © 2011 by Layne Cockcroft

All Rights Reserved

The Existential Deconstruction

Where light and darkness cease to be

There sit upon their sofas three

Our trio painted every gray

But with no exit from their play

They sit sometimes in reverie

In quiet, loathing what they see

At other times they shut their eyes

And tell each other courteous lies

But in their room there is no sleep

So courteous lies become too steep

For even blind men to believe

Who given time are undeceived

And since here time hath said farewell

Then surely others must be hell

So drop the spade, you've dug the hole

If others live within your soul

______________________________

Copyright © 2011 by Layne Cockcroft

All Rights Reserved