The Poems of 2011: The Poet

"The End of the World" is an interesting poem on a couple of points. Firstly it was the first poem I wrote free hand instead of typing, (I had no choice seeing as I was at a monastery with no computer of any kind.) Ever since I have written almost everything free hand. I think it increases the sense of art while I am work, almost like I am painting. Also I wrote this piece after I decided to become a poet, so really it is my first amateur-professional piece. It still has all of the trappings of a poet who does not really know what he is doing, but it is still a nice little poem.

The End of the World
August 7
The end of the world lies westward
On the last coast of Rome,
Where mountains fail and rivers end,
And no man makes a home.

The world is flat and perilous,
But wise men call it round.
And though a land lies westward still,
It is on eastern ground.

The end of the world lies westward
Where waters meet the sand.
But the edge of the world is hidden,
Concealed by God’s own hand.

For sailors do not perish when
Their ship sails to the East.
They do not see the chasm depths,
And they are spared the beast.

For a sleep of peace come o’er them
When they draw near the edge.
A host of angels lift them up,
While God’s proclaims his pledge.

When wayward westward travelers
Are taken to the sky,
The voice of God sings to them all.
And even pirates cry.

“Though death be at your bow and aft,
And Satan on your mast,
I will not let my sailors fall-
Not now, nor ever past.

“Though in your pride you seek to know
The secrets past this gate,
I will not let you enter here
To see that pit of hate.

“Where devils, and much worse things lurk,
Forever in their tears.
Where sin is born, and death conceived.
The truth in all your fears.

“The gates of Hell lie westwardly
Where Sol dies every night.
Now look for love in eastern skies,
When dawn breaks in with lights.

“But woe to you dear mariner,
The day I stay My hand.
For you shall sail to death and war,
From your Pacific sand.

“When angels do not lift you up
And you fall not asleep,
Then you shall see the Gates of Hell
That stand atop the deep.

“And you shall be most glorious,
Though surely you will die.
And Hell shall be victorious,
O I will look and cry.

“When captains and their flags of war
Sink down upon their ships,
I shall send Rome to save the world,
With vengeance on their lips.

“The last crusade I sanction here
Will break upon the wall;
And crush the head of Satan’s hoard,
Now see the rebel fall.”

So silently and suddenly
The boat comes back to foam.
And men and boys arise and think
Of war and sad strange Rome.

Thus is the word proclaimed to them
Who dare approach the gate-
The end of East and Western worlds,
Dividing love and hate.