Camena Vita Explorationis

Poetry written at the dark hours of night and through the cold winds of winter, and poetry written in the glorious sunlight and through summer's warm array. The title of this book, "Camena Vita Explorationis" translates into "Poetry of the Searching" from Latin. "Battle" and "Dear Mr. Gove" are both published poems.


3. Tap.





Before me lies a plain field

Stretching out as far as sight can see

I can’t even hear humanity’s plea

All the blemishes of people concealed


Silent, like the growth of non-existent flowers

Not a touch of sound

Do you hear the bee’s humble buzzing? Look around

Serenity and serendipity devours the hours


Unnaturally quiet, one might say

What has kept the swallow so powerfully at bay?

And where are the trees, tall and strong?

When supposed to, for all, Doomsday prolong?


Matter not though it does,

For I am happy

Past was the time for trees to be sappy

And who wants to hear the bees’ irritable buzz?

But shortened was my joy,

As suddenly the screeching calls arise

It was a perfectly made coy,

Nature in nature’s disguise.


And after all, the peace no more,

For the birds shout, wings flapping,

The trees sprouting from the dirt floor,

All that’s left is the tapping.


The tapping enough to make one mad,

Coming from the air and ground and sea,

As if I’ve been hit by iron-clad,

It’s torturing me.


Tap. Tap. Tap.

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