- Betoken From The Mists Poem by Georgios Venetopoulos

For days we sailed beneath the Southern stars,
a route along the undiscovered lines,
we heard a voice emerging from the brines,
'the ocean carries unforgiven mars.'

Three demons whirl'd upon the iron wood
while carelessly we danced; I blamed the grog,
we heard the gulls from the surrounding fog·
abaft the stern, evanescing, becrowed.

The ferryman was tracking us on sight,
his ghostly schooner floating in the dusk,
macabre our foreboding was· wine brusque,
- were blinking in the distance his dead lights.

The vessel's dunnages then creaked; conjured
our recklessness conducted us to Hell
throughout the fog, the stern bell rang its knell,
- I saw the orchard of those souls who erred.

I heard the reef rock shattering the bilge,
the vessel heeled to starboard, cut across,
then bedded on the bottom's seaweed moss,
its dimming lights attempting to effulge.

Our vessel rested on the algae bed,
we danced and laughed moreo'er our way to yon,
how come you had not heard the bell and horn
betoken from the mists that we were dead?