Pull the Oars
Pull the oars — into a deeper mist,
Leave the memories, a heap of ash!
By gracious light, yea by the red sun kissed!
Satisfying, every gentle splash.
Pull the oars — upon the river drawn,
Gliding into bends of blindfold dark,
Birdsong, like an oath to daybreak sworn,
Sweet as bells the chiming of the lark.
Pull the oars — we’re never going back,
Heaven’s home, in shreds of bitter wrath,
Pangs of guilt against a vision black,
Endless hell a heavy aftermath.
Pull the oars — into the darksome day,
A new day, where calamity is king,
War and strife, the violent knife display,
A prospect with a sharp ascerbic sting.
Pull the oars — we’re destined for the gloom,
Sent unto an exile wilderness,
An expiration in a mounting doom,
The sordid stroke of misery’s caress.
Pull the oars — a sun of red, for blood,
Spilled in greater quantities anon,
A terminal indictment in a flood,
In cinematic horror just begun.
Pull the oars — though these two arms are weak,
Flailing once again and throbbing sore,
So bereft I can no longer speak,
Heaving, sighing for a lightless shore.
Pull the oars — in isolation strewn,
Death and I, the only souls in sight,
Ever dying now, an endless swoon,
In this fast descending pall of night.
Pull the oars — aye, flee to nature’s arms,
Like a mother doting on her child,
Comfort sought in all her guileless charms,
Heaven’s hues displayed in pastures wild.
Pull the oars — awake again in peace,
Gladly gifted glints of paradise,
Yearning deep within for death’s release,
In this human frost as cold as ice.
AD Lovkis, 14/08/2025
adamdaniel 