"Nattlig Marin" by Marcus Larsson‘Desolate Ocean’ by Gleb Zavlanov The Society December 5, 2017 Poetry, The Environment 2 Comments The silver masses rising in huge numbers, The ship alone upon the sprawling sea, The snores of men found tossing in their slumbers, And salt-tinged breezes shivering with me, The solitary voice of man to man, Confiding of their former selves, their wives, The things they learned, the businesses they ran, The unforgiving crumbs of their past lives, The crackling of the sails, the eerie hum Of engines, artificial hearts that thrust Man’s plodding trek into the distant sun: All lost within the crashing chaos, lost Within the vastness that cannot be Man’s. For Man has marred the earth and will mar more For Man has walked and sullied all its lands But Man’s ambitious reach stops at the shore And on the shore, he’s left to think alone And wonder on the things he’ll never own. Gleb Zavlanov is a young poet and songwriter living in New York City. He is a 2017 graduate of Townsend Harris High School. To see more of his poetry, visit (Society of Classical Poets links). His youtube channel can be found here. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 2 Responses Radice Lebewsu December 7, 2017 Structurally, Mr. Zavlanov’s “Desolate Ocean” edges towards what I would call a Staffordian sonnet [named for Postmodernist poet William Stafford (1914-1993)]. The brief piece opens with an alliterative sestet set in a vigourous, carefully-punctuated cadence of generalities reminiscent of Thomas Gray. Occasionally I am reminded of Byron, Keats and Masefield, its music reminding me only tangentially of Romantic phrases out of Franck or Bruch, its rough language not totally unlike that found in the prose of Jack London or Frank Norris. Reply Gleb Zavlanov February 6, 2018 Thank you for your deep and thoughtful analysis. I am flattered that it reminds you of such great poets. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.