- Smoke - Charades Poem by Georgios Venetopoulos

Abaft the weather, bent the time
inside the ship, around the shore
continuum where sailors' prime
had danced across its smoke's dark soar.

The fume was rising from the two
tall funnels covering its shape
with darkened soot, while dead its crew
was calling us behind night's drapes.

The smoke was dancing back and forth
persuading us to move and sway;
Ironic shined the star of North
reluctant breeze slid down the brae.

We thought it was the ship's horn or
three sailor ghosts that danced charades
inside smoke's tulips, nightly chore
we mimicked them outside of Hades.

The soot was covering the land
some scattered lights that blinked and cried
diffused away at its demand
until forgotten, sank and died.

We followed thence, the engines' chug
and danced around two skyward lines
where hung the ship's torn island flag
and our charades that drowned in brines.