Awake, who sleep in water’s grave,
And hear leviathan call
Drowned men and maids from every sea
Come dance at Neptune’s ball.
Who cares if you be young or old
what age have salt and brine?
The earth shall hold your yesterdays
The wind take your designs
Leave your sunken rusted ships
your sky planes where they fell
Come, murder’d girls and mariners
And dance at Neptune’s ball.
Did you die ‘neath ice or storm?
Or drown by act of war?
Do mothers wait at home for you?
Speak their names no more.
For now the merfolk come in ranks
with kelp to trim his hall
to greet you haunted sailing men
Who dance at Neptune’s Ball
Bring what pearls and evening gowns
The sea has not consumed
But leave behind your earthly cares
Your waiting brides and grooms
Hasten, ‘ere the chamber shuts
And kraaken cracks the bell!
And cursed be they who did not come
To dance at Neptune’s ball.
Disclaimer: I don’t write poetry because I think it’s stupid™ (read: hard), but this one came to me in response to a twitter #vss365 prompt, and there seemed to be some themes I wanted to explore a little further. Again, for the record, I think poetry is stupid™. And I know rhymed couplets are passé, but whatever.
P.K. Merlott 