New York Shores

Curious – will your mind be, these verses Fortunato,

Buried alive behind a wall – waves of vocabulary?

The poems distill and spill an amorous Amontidillo,

And their structure is cleaned – refined with mental Brillo.

The lyrical displays are filled with a meek bravado,

From a mind that spends most of its time – solitary.

There are millions of currents, and waves in these oceans;

Which pass by one observant perception.

Each individual wave shares with others – one connection…

(Though perhaps it chooses the way it will roll)

…Together the water forms, comprises and creates – a whole.

An apparent network of billions of thoughts and personal emotions.

Each wave subtly influencing and affecting (effecting) the next,

Much like the choice and voice of diction within a chosen text.

In each passing instant, some waves crest, while others fall;

Some waves are at their best, while others are losing it all.

Though, the overall course is uncertain (when viewed through a narrow lens);

When the scope is broadened (and the perception takes a step back),

It`s easier to see the curvature: all the various ebbs and the different bends –

The small variations in the flow, and the way which the waves interact.

The singular perception spends each and all of its days, watching the movements in the surf;

In silence, it views and surveys – and to their entertainment – through versification – it is a serf.

Composed By: A. D.