Spectral Horse Poems No. 4

By Simon Pole

More poems about undiscovered countries, love in confusing times, events at the Red Sea told from the point of view of Pharoah’s army, and the proprietorship of bathtubs. Includes two long poems in blank verse, and their engrossing stories.

No. 4 in the Spectral Horse chapbook series from Simon Pole, author of The Saga Terminal City.

Poems included:

The Cartographer’s Poem
Moral Clarity
Rain of Love
Hymn to Prose
The King
Halls of Hate
Cephas
A Proposal
The Maestro
Pharaoh’s Army
Father, Father
A Rumble for the Regime
Why Us, God?

Bio

His mind corrupted by childhood exposure to horror movie matinees, but equally enthralled by the atmosphere of old churches, Simon Pole writes cosmic poetry from the location of Vancouver, British Columbia. A graduate of Harvard University, Simon has continued his studies of what is hidden in the dark. Writing is also in his blood, being the great-great-grandson of early Canadian poet Susie Drury.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Pole
• Release date: May 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311666369

Simon Pole

His mind corrupted by childhood exposure to horror movie matinees, but equally enthralled by the atmosphere of old churches, Simon Pole writes cosmic poetry from the location of Kingsville, Ontario. A graduate of Harvard University, Simon has continued his studies of what is hidden in the dark. Writing is also in his blood, being the great-great-grandson of early Canadian poet Susie Drury.

Book preview

Spectral Horse Poems

Simon Pole

No. 4

Smashwords Edition

www.simonpole.ca

Text copyright 2016 Simon Pole

All Rights Reserved

No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Simon Pole.

Cover Photo Original by Estitxu Carton

Used Under License

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

Table of Contents

The Cartographer’s Poem

Moral Clarity

Rain of Love

Hymn to Prose

The King

Halls of Hate

Cephas

A Proposal

The Maestro

Pharaoh’s Army

Father, Father

A Rumble for the Regime

Why Us, God?

About the Author

The Cartographer’s Poem

In the morning I will work,

Thoughts again will come that lurk

In the corners of my mind,

Unformed yet, but biding time.

I can feel them welling there,

Like a river, where no air

Is felt to breathe, but they run

Like a torrent to the sun,

In the morning when I turn

An eager face, hands that burn,

To these pages, blank of mark,

On a journey I embark

In a paper-hulled canoe,

Still unshaven and unshoed,

And this pencil is my oar

To propel me evermore

On this ocean of my dreams

To drift places unforseen.

Each day after the poem waits,

While I sleep, a patient mate,

Who coos softly by my bed,

New worlds planting in my head,

The next stage in our travel,

Where we wilds will unravel,

Tangled shore and shrouded height,

Untramped woods long out of sight,

But whose thick, sunless cover

Conceals realms to discover:

Broken blocks of empty towns,

Where fallen gods lie face down,

The royal roads, overgrown,

Once by fearsome horses owned,

And some cistern silted-up,

From which people