Treasure Island

Stevie Taite

(30th January 1973 / Kent, England)

True North


True North

Moral compass calibrator
Degrees decrees unsettle me
In search of what? Will
We know later?
Spun out by ancient gravity

Starlight sings and smells of succour
Instinct shouldn't blind an eye
Star shaped navigators flutter
Follow not the crooked lie

Paths are carved from influences
Random guides for rambling
Pivotal, some consequence
Demand therefore discourse within.


Mystic stone that stuck foot fast
Metal rock is precious still
Raw attraction guides the mast
Free to twist its own free will

Foggy morn veils destination
Short arm of a law that leads
Near star brings evaporation
True North guides the soul that sees

Submitted: Friday, March 08, 2013
Edited: Friday, April 26, 2013

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Comments about this poem (True North by Stevie Taite )

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  • Gulsher John (3/8/2013 11:11:00 AM)

    A fine tune of machine and passion.....
    Tone deep and erudite.....
    Indeed a compass is so much pregnant sign, full of meaning
    Good job teacher.... (Report) Reply

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