"Waiting for Lenore" : An Homage to Poe and Blake

Waiting for Lenore,
There is ice
On the widow's walk
Not far from shore,

Looking out onto the sea
For that proverbial ship to come,
Pacing and glancing seaward,
First glimpse, she brings
Warmth to me.

For it has been cold
on the widow’s walk
With metaphor
For voyages home
And welcoming warmth
at the end
Of the wait
of a lifetime.

With renaissance ship,
Her sails of silken garments
Flowing in the breezes.

Of sea saddled vigils
And endless nights
Of cold lookings-out
Onto moon luminations
Of the whales' spout

And gentle mammaled migrant herds
From the iceberg terraced North,
Enroute to warm watered,
Mexican lagoons.

As Dead black night watches
On the chilly widow’s walk
Turn to sun-blind, brilliant days
And the ocean sprays
The notes of salt-bird cries,
Again and against the view
Of weary eyes,
The phantom ship upon
The horizon dies.

Thus unrequited, yet he tries
And steadfast, visions-out
To slip-skim the waters
To where the Seahawk flys.

And later,
From the widow's walk that night,
The Gods of Neptune
Heard him talk to her
Of love and grace.

For upon a shimmered ocean light,
Her resplendent angel's face gave sight
As he wept and stumbled
Towards the shore,
Into the chilled water he dove
and swam out, then deeper
Until he was no more.

Last breath, last words
from his lips were "Lenore,
my Lenore, I pray thee not
to join the fair Elenor".

Be thee not ghost
Nor mermaid
At Poseidon's door -
But return with me
Where once along
The sunny and sandy shore,
We walked hand in hand
Towards tomorrow's evermore.

Tho merely a man
against the sea
This love for you,
These Gods shall not undo
nor damp the glint and sheen
that astride the lights of eternity.