Commodore

Towering mystery, in misted glory:
Steel-giant over his kingdom standing,
Yellowed of one morning, new and early.

His eyes red and green, piercing and fiery,
Never sleeping, again, always watching.
Towering mystery, in misted glory.

The River-king, proud, coloured in khaki,
Never moving, over waves sailing—
Yellowed of one morning, new and early. 

With newfound strength, he still roars mightily
Over the deep river forward rushing:
Towering mystery, in misted glory. 

From water to water, through history,
Bridge port from high he stands domineering:
Yellowed of one morning, new and early.

Image of man, created in beauty,
Uncertain he lives—weather outreaching.
Towering mystery, in misted glory,
Yellowed of one morning, new and early.

Dauphin & 12th

In a ring of light—insight of the world—
Ochre-rayed stones once dark, staining the light,
Wake the pale morning in the end of night;
No cloud, no sound, on the walls nothing heard. 

In the eyes of the world, in sight of hope,
The brokenness on rendered walls was caught.
On the door no name, no bell, no address—
Here, the length of days is relentless. 

The sun moves around, high inside the streets,
Shadowed by rubbles, veiled, hidden, eclipsed;
Then, wide awake, paints new morn's movements fair:
Broad strokes of gold on facades of despair. 

The new day, flaming upon houses in rows,
Brings old promises left on the curb,
Graced with the bright pigments of tomorrow,
In a ring of light, insight of the world.