Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Perhaps the Winds,
Had blown the Fumes,
Of Deplhi over my soul,
That night,
And the Hand,
That has the mist pass over the soul of Adam, 
Before It fashions him,
Has the mist pass over my soul,
And cling over my lights,
Intoxicating,
My captain's eyes,
 That night,
Getting my Boat,
 Grounded at your bay,
I have been like Columbus 
Landing in the Caribbean,
Perhaps the Air,
Or Love of Delphi,
In ancient Greece,
Surrounds me,
But I imagine the Sky,
Or  yes!
Poseidon,
In the Storm He gathers over the Earth,
Must have filled my sails,
That day,
With the Love of Delphi,
And cast my Boat,
Upon your shores,
Grounding me on your beaches,
Bringing me knocking at your doors,
At such an unholy hour,
I knocked,
At such an unwholesome time,
I called,
I was headed for another destination,
Malta,
Was an accident,
Forgive,
For being an unpleasant surprise,
I am sometimes like the laws that govern,
Augustan's arrow that,
A Man shoots,
To have a target,
He made me like a Jack in the Box,
When you opened your doors,
And bumped into my presence,
That Day,
And  because it was in the night,
And myself being  human,
I was also in the dark,
Forgive,
If my presence at your doors,
Had brought up any  rude awakening,
From your rest,
I have been like Europe,
My routes closed,
And finding another to my destination..
And  I have been like Colombus,
Seeking a way to another place,
And landing at another,
And believing,
Overnight,
It was the place I had set out to find,
On those few nights,
I spent at your place 
I rode,
With the Caribou,
That drive the Sledge of Woden,
And it was at sunrise,
The next day,
That I realised,
 I had docked at a the wrong  place,
I was filled with rage also,
But by the power,
Of the temperate winds,
That hover over my head,
The wings that drive my sails,
Vapour is made of my anger,
In a moment it disappears,
Drifting among the Skies,
I know there is nothing called serendipity,
Here,
The Hand,
The Hand that Drives,
The Hand that Works, 
Had cast me on your shores,
I was marooned,
I was wrecked,
It took some days before I got to,
From the stunning,
From the wreck,
It was Dawn,
Whilst sucking the monkey,
In a dream,
I saw an Ibis,
By the Banks,
And Thoth,
Standing under a Monkey Puzzle,
In the Iberia,
By the Gates,
Wearing a wry grin,
And thoughts,
Like torrents down a Mountain,
Gushed like a fountain in my psyche,
Overrunning me,
It was not an hour that I could have been irradiated,
But many years back,
In heat and cold,
And searing conditions,
In the Field,
Getting on with my labours under the Sun,
The Jigsaw came together,
And I had a perfect Picture,
Of the Tree,
And the Fruit,
Of the living,
And at that time,
On a powerful impulse,
I looked Up,
And I was looking at the Tail of Draco,
In the Heavens,
Curling,
Like a Lion's Tail,
Setting a Great Question Mark,
Hanging Its Shadow over the Earth,
A Dark Cloud,
Looming over,
The Stream of light pouring from the Sun that was working Its Day,
The Streams of hosts and hosts of  constellations,
Making the Galaxy,
Coiling into a Huge Question Mark,
After It was formed,
And it was not Daylight,
Yet I was being inspired,
It  could not have been that,
I was being irradiated,
And fixing my boat,
I have since left your shores,
And taken to the seas again,
 To get to the destination,
I had set out to reach,
The Hand that cultivates,
The times and minds,
And shapes the Earth,
Had cast me roughly,
Upon your shores,
And in the night,
 Had  made a rude awakening,
With my knocking,
And my calling,
At your doors,
But might not there be a purpose,
And a reason,
And seasons,
For everything under the Sun,
Solomon,
With simple,
Cyclical,
Secular activities,
Like a time to build,
And a time to pull down,
A time for peace,
And a time for war?
(C) Fritz Ampon.