The Maiden and the Derelict Ship

In the glaring of the sea, I saw a derelict,
Floating lost and silently, spinning an aimless pirouette.
Then on my side, upon the shore of the shining sea,
Standing like a stone alone, a maiden wept there quietly.

She pointed to the waves and swayed with the melancholy dance,
Twas a strange circuitous waltz I saw, a kind of sad romance;
And it filled her curious mind with thoughtful reverie,
Of all the things she'd lost or found, and what she kept she'd set free.

Kneeling on the glittering shore, where her castles made of sand,
Once stood proud with ramparts high to defy the Tide's command.
She scooped the remnants with both hands, the ruins made by waves,
With eternal might and strength, it's subtle surf pervades.

Then lifting her eyes to the heavens, she watched the leaden drifts
Form across the ominous sky, the dark clouds deep and swift.
The cerulean sky and the white clouds, now frocked in mantels grey and black,
Dressed as if in mourning for the Sun's gay rays that now held back.

Gentle tears escaped the corner's and down the young girl's face,
Pining for the derelict that had sailed once with proud, high grace;
Pled she to the gods and Fates to give her rest at last,
And moor beneath the briny waves, where peace will hold it sure and fast,
To the shelter it may find, swaying in the trackless face,
Deep below the waves it sails in it's splendid former grace.

So with a child's simple faith, she waited patiently,
In her youthful expectation of all life's possibilities.
The Master of the ship's design was flawless and each detail met,
Using only finest teak and oak from keel to mast was set.

Desires and dreams may find disaster, while we hope it naught
That fears will make it fall the faster, wasting what's been wrought.
Thus the maiden slowly turned from the ruthless restless waves,
And rose the swells above the masts amain to her watery grave.

Feeling a kindred spirit to the derelict ship's final fate,
She turned and headed back to home, for it was getting late.
She wondered if a lesson some how could be gleaned from this?
But she was just a child, she thought, and thus all was dismissed.

Danielle LaReaux/Daniel Thomas Roe©2006

The Death of Ægeus

(or The Tragedy of Theseus)

He sat and watched the rising sun
Come from the ocean blue,
When a sailing ship's silhouette
Caught his eyeing view.
Excited with anticipation,
The dark prowed ship drew nigh;
He hoped the gods had grace upon
His sorrowing soul, or let him die.
He prayed goodtidings Rosey-fingered
Dawn that arc'd the morning skies,
Would bring to him and be his meed:
"If my son still lives, a white sail flies!"

In the bowels of the dark prowed ship,
Sick from love sat alone his son;
The white sail in the hollow hull,
Left he in grief, forgot, unflung.

As the father watched his heart beat faster,
The black sail whipped through lusty wind:
"This token sign tells me disaster,
For my son will not come home again!"

As the ship to port his sad eyes followed,
Thought he bereft of his dear son;
From off the cliff, the wine sea swallowed,
As he lept it's height and fell head long.

Sorrow upon sorrow, for portentous fate
Had snatched the two he loved away:
The first forgot and left asleep,
The other dead for a token's display.

Daniel Thomas Roe©1996