Two Poems by Ethan Brandt

The Magma Boils

Underneath, the magma boils.
Underneath, the magma boils.
And the ground turns and stomachs turn.
And the ground turns and stomachs turn.
Underneath, the stomachs boil
And the ground and magma turn, turn.

Above it all, the birds fly 'round.
Above it all, the birds fly 'round.
Songs are sung, most unheard.
Songs are sung, most unheard.
Above it, the birds fly unheard.
Songs are sung all 'round.

You stand silent and listen.
You stand silent and listen.
If only all could be heard.
If only all could be heard.
If all stand and listen,
Only you could be heard, silent.

The magma boils and turns,
And underneath the ground, stomachs turn.
You stand and listen.
The birds fly silent all 'round, and above it all,
If only all could be heard…most unheard.


A Song With Her

Do I truly care that I should live,
Now that I go 'cross the sea
Tell me, tell me please, Penelope,
Are things fair as they used be?

My body stays sound as ever was,
My soul is carried by hope.
But my heart listens not to mere faith
How much longer can I cope?

My dear, your voice is my only friend,
Take me away to the Land…
Tell me, please, end swiftly my worry,
How is the town at your hand?

I want my words to take and hold you,
But these men talk too loudly.
Gorging, drinking, swearing, never peace.
When do you come home to me?

My world, I fear I cannot reach you,
Struggle and try as I might.
You are the reason for my struggle.
I sing to you ev'ry night.

Lost One, you drive me to distraction
I can't hear, try as I might.
I know now I must wait, still my heart,
I will listen ev'ry night.

{Poetry by Ethan Brandt}