Amidst, amidst
Amidst, amidst
Amidst the waves
The ocean-waves that sparkle on the pilot sea
And glisten in the night to dancing forms
Of elfin size in silent prancing lost.
Aloft, aloft
My soul I have let go
That it may find at last
Its home, the yearning-prize
Wherein it must go now:
The ocean-sea that sparkles in the night.
I hear the chains cut
I hear the pains fall
I hear my dress of breath
Fall in the channel sea, beyond the straits
Where the wide Ocean beckons and awaits:
Where the wide night yet sparkles full as day
Where the dawn riseth from its eastern cave
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poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
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poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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I Was At Hastings Gardens And I Saw
I was at Hastings Gardens and I saw
High, high above and stretching through the stars
The giant Night crawling inexorably
The sea ebbed and flowed all quietly
While giant Night crawled inexorably
Across the marbled blue of heaven’s dome.
I was at Hastings Gardens and I saw
Nigh, nigh around, around me turn and churn
A mist full-hovering around and like a net
Incorporating all it met: grey like a phantom
Stood the Night
Like a grey thief in phantom’s garbs full dressed.
I was at Hastings Gardens and I saw
A sickle huge scar heaven’s face
And spreading horror like a scimitar
Amidst the nebulae amidst the stars
And of a sudden me thought that I heard
A cry pervasive high across the skies
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poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Dross coins and wealth
i.
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
You wallow in them
You think of them again, again
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
One even grey a blank vacant sterility.
ii.
Round the green hill
The rivulet glideth:
The birds flieth
The owl singeth
How happy is the earth to-day!
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poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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I Roamed With Anger Out Of The House
I roamed with anger out of the house.
My bosom filled with rage
My eyes with pride
My head with stubbornness.
And then
I saw the dawn arise – for it was dawn
At the beginning – and the sea was fresh
Still and naked from the nocturnal cloth
That covered it – now it lay
Listless as in a bed half-wake, half-sleeping:
I saw the rays - the rays of light increase
And turn to more yellow, more golden-fringed
And from the tree – the tree that looks
Down from the bastions – a small bird chirped
A startling song – perhaps a lay of love
Perhaps a dirge – perhaps an elegy.
I walked along the road that overlooks
The city bastions – long and old
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poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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I Feel Like The Sea-Gull
I feel like the sea-gull
That wanders the ocean-waves calm or tossed
With tempests in mid-Ocean or sea-shore:
I am the sea-gull
That with parched throat
Cries his piercing cry across the landscape
Where sea and sky are only and they meet
In my lone call:
I am the sea-gull that protests
And speaks injustice and its pains
And that is why
My throat is parched – yet I am free
Free in my flight across the air
Flipping around my wings; moving
Flying miles and kilometers moving
Flying near to land as much as can I
For I must bespeak – people must hear me.
My call I know will pierce
And the hearts
That lie now frozen by unjust hands
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poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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I Have Climbed Up The Mountain Of Despair
I have climbed up the mountain of despair
Oft – too oft perhaps for me
Too many bitter cups of grief I drunk
Too few the days of calm I joyed.
My flower of youth I wasted more
Than time and age could
Too many bitter cups of grief I drunk
Too few the days of calm I joyed.
Too many nights of weirdness I had
When bad dreams chased all sleep away:
And the black firmament like a cold wall
Smiled at me where’er I trod and went
Railing and deriding my despair.
Too many storms of green my vessel has
Weathered and been buffeted into
Too many a water wraith and ghost
Saw I in my mountain of despair:
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poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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I Opened The Casements Of My House
I opened the casements of my house
Onto the wild, wild sea
The billows were on it austere and free
The sea-wind with every house-corner neighed
And with the bending palms in the garden played
At dice or in the games of life at will
And still the casements opened and opened
As if by magic trance or guided else
By a thousand small invisible goblin-hands
That from the sea-main seemed to fly and come
Over the billows austere and free
As the sea-wind with every house-corner neighed
And with the bending palms in the garden played
Beyond, beyond the vista low and large
A plain of beach sand lapped by the waves
And here and there an oasis of sweet palms
That bent their olive heads in the winds’ waffling
And coming and going over the sea.
Where the white billows raged saliva-like
Or like bent god-thrones cool and flexible
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poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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I Tried To Open The Wide Book Of Night
I tried to open wide the book of night
To look into its eyes - like a lover
That pretended of his love confession as of right
And so to Hastings Gardens went I in the night.
Wide, wide before the long night stood
No corner stopped my glance no space
Its boundary showed and manifested
To my glance long tall continous lay the night
In its mischievous slumbering
Wherein it dreamt dreams I know not
Nor thereof heard the silent trees bespeak.
How many nights before me came
How many, many nights
And they were certes here like this night
As I look from the bastions to the sea
And fancy its silver bosom dance and gleam
In the moon’s amorous light to-night:
So gleamed the light on the sea-waves
When the French besieged and held
Our noble city: how many a lover
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poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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How Wide The Dawn
How wide the Dawn
Is smiling!
How silent-new
The air is breathing!
How raw the sea
Without a wave
Is looking!
And in the night –
Id est last night
How strange
The owl chanteth!
How far, how far
Its cry did seem
And yet
It was so near!
How thrilled the tree
Below my lighted window
And in the night
The solemn night
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poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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