Free Verse Rhymed Poem by Thomas Harrison Humphreys
Two restless oceans unable to forget The marvel fixed between, cleaving where they met. One salt (the quiet), his fathoms did record, The secrets of horsemen and their Golden Horde. His twin brine (the boastful) knew the bat-eyed Greek Knew the bard’s begotten, oppressor and meek. Two restless oceans, unable to forget The marvel fixed, cleaving where they met. One sea recalls that Croatoan crest The other summons up Turner’s last west. Two indifferent seas, unconcerned with man’s scheme; Yet, unable to shun this dividing seam. Stone Chimneys rise betwixt these two seas And lean languidly into the wind, English in stature, but American in posture, Enduring the intangible enemy Eating away at its stony hide. Doth the wind blow but to topple tiny Babel? Doth the rain pelt but to loosen each craggy fleck? Doth the earth move but to tear . . . Blow winds; pelt rains; move immutable earth. But stone chimneys rise betwixt two oceans Regardless of your almighty labors. Both eddies long gazed ’pon red smoke o’er quiet wood, And both wet behemoths knew, no matter their yearning, Neither could douse this burning, burning, burning. Yet, came one who would. Came the manswarm buzzing, of the Genoan’s comb In their wooden ships ‘pon the salty brine’s foam. Bearded men astir upon a beardless shoal And the New World axed by an Old World troll. And deep in the fathoms of memory lay … (Where years mean nothing, and ages everything, Defeats nothing, and conquests everything) The building of chimneys and its affray. Then, dark faced men were borne to the shore Across a reluctant sea spewing its disappointment. And here, where clashing tides would chance, Dark fettered hands would learn chimney building too, But for the pleasure of their exacting masters. Imperfect have been these rendered hearths, These stone chimneys betwixt the seas, In so many ways, archaic themselves, But they stand regardless, they must, they will. For, when the wooded abode it once warmed has crumbled Still that chimney doth stand, and proclaims We were here. We are here. We will be here. It bemoans our imperfection, and it postulates Erecting, yet again, an abode to warm, But this time, an edifice to shelter all: He who built wigwams and longhouses ‘pon the land, And the bearded sailor first putting boot to sand, The muted Angolans raped from their shores And those many dissimilar for whom tolerance implores. Two restless oceans unable to forget The marvel fixed between, cleaving where they met, Stone Chimneys rise betwixt these two seas, Motley chimneys named Washington, King, and Lee. We are those faulty chimneys abiding, we pierce Heaven’s plume Straining to reach the Divine’s throne room. But, flawed and ruined amid sundry trials, Is our deficient blundering o’er time’s many miles. Yet, this New World experiment must continue to dream, Of a “city upon a hill,” of an America agleam.
Thomas Harrison Humphreys, with a BS from the University of Lynchburg, is a history teacher in a rural village who loves to talk to his students of poetry and literature. Thomas has had both poetry and short stories published in Westward Quarterly, Poetry Quarterly, Writers and Readers Magazine, Copperfield Review Quarterly and Written Tales.
