Perhaps it's time
I sang to the mermaids
enticed their slimy forms to slither close
while I live on
calling on
from the rock-strewn strand.

Let seaweed-bedecked heads
rise from the shallows
shoulders draped in seafoam
green hair swirling in gentle eddies
pay tribute to my song.

While I sit beside the sea
running the shuttle
beneath the strings
warp and woof
weft and weave
words tied in knots
for texture on the cloth
singing all the while
as my feet press levers
a dance in time
to my rhyme.

Let those ladies
of the shingle
thirst for the sound
of my voice
and beach themselves
for want of the cloth
I weave
singing all the while

Singing each to each
singing all the while.
©E. Howe Nov 4 2003 "

River of Memories

the long ago
flows past
fingers dipped
in the stream of time.

Pull them free
and watch the memories
gather in a pool
drops, jewels
in the evening glow

Never wipe
your fingers dry
But rather,
lap the liquid
from your palm
lick the drops
from fingertips

The River Lethe
was a poor device.
©E. Howe Nov 3 2003

For Remus: Breaking the cycle

How do you break it?
gird with determination
what interests you?

what thing makes a spark
to catch your questing eyesight
that you lean to reach

even before you
realize what you have done?
yes, carpe deum.
©E. Howe Nov 3, 2003"