Jeffrey Hull

Sunset over Ithaka, island home of Odysseus



So hereby my Homeric tale:
   I set my foot along the path
Bereft of horse and shoe and nail;
   Inciting neither joy nor wrath
Of lofty gods, my ship set sail.

And venture far I did in time
   By sea and land and mountain pass,
In scalding heat or winter clime,
   By desert dune or high crevasse—
A windswept wand'rer's paradigm.

To fabled Ithaka and back
   With canvas set my oarsmen rowed
The island of the wise to sack,
   As passing years like water flowed
Beneath the keel's soft hissing track.

But then at last the field and grove
   Of distant shore before me lay,
That land for which so long I strove
   Through trackless sand and crashing spray,
To loot and plunder wisdom's trove.

There sat an ancient in his hut:
   "Your journey was the prize you sought,"
He smiled, and I could not rebut.
   "No greater treasure can be bought,"
And with a laugh, his door he shut.


© 2008 Jeffrey Hull

© 2008 Nina Camic All rights reserved.


When all the leaves have fallen,
   And all the suns have set,
When bee is done with pollen,
   And fisher shuns his net,

When stars take off their twinkle,
   And breezes tire to blow,
When age runs out of wrinkle,
   And winter pines for snow–

Just where the blue is nearest,
   And stretch the heavens wide,
I'll wait for you, my dearest,
   With mossy time to bide.


© 2008 Jeffrey Hull