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Taxi Boats ‘neath Spilia Bar

Rushing, risen, rising
Wakes dipping smooth astern
To run and lose again on rocks and steps.

Hissing, spattered, cascading
‘neath my view
Lost to eye and ear

Shortening seconds of
Pregnant promises
Belying life
Drowning the cry of gulls
Swooping down, through and gone…

Henning wrote:http://www.tea-and-oranges.de/mp3/taxiboat.mp3

Maestro, encore!!

I do really like this, Henning...

Mirek

Oh! I only got to read this section now. I see Hydra has been inspirational... But I think I like this poem the most, from all that you posted, Byron. It really captures the feeling I had there.
I remember one late night, I was walking to my room to get a coat, everything was dark and silent (excepting Roloi, of course), only the water and boats in the port were restless, kicking against the land... it was such an unusual feeling, because there was really no wind in the air. And because, somehow, restlessness seemed out of place in Hydra. I got reminded of that when I read your poem.

Henning, I'm still not totally sure if you sing german or english, but I'm beginning to like that anyhow. I know, it took me time! Let's say you are an acquired taste.
Laura

PS: Henning, I'm also not sure about your signature: does it have something to do with poison, or with poinsettias?