Birth of a Ship

The ship was safe and snug, on solid ground
With cosy chocks along the keel and bow.
A wrap of scaffolding and gantries ’round
And city power running up and down.

The engine block is in. She’s heavy now
Her gears and bearings tested, true, and round.
The paint on every inch of her is proud.
Pull out the chocks, and let the fog-horns sound!

It’s inches, but a mountain thunders free.
A blue mug on the slip-way — dust — debris!
The mass that moves, no human hand can stay.
The breakers waiting, break, and turn away
Under a keel sharp as Eternity
And might on might, the vessel meets the sea.

The Centre of the Underworld

From under-fortress ancient
And spawning pit yet young,
From ship upon a sunken sea
And hollow crypt, they come:

The orc before a surface door,
The elf of deep below,
The thing erased from ancient lore
Are all compelled to go.

Through secret passage shallow
Or smoky fissure deep,
Dwarf-road long in ruins,
Or calcite cave, they creep.

An open cavern mile.
A dome of cut black stone.
A sea of blood-red tile.
A ready, leaden throne.