> > > Silver shards
> > > Broken dreams
> > > Glitter on the
> > > Horizon
> > > Left behind
> > > Their siren's song
> > > Calling still.

> The "calling still" bit signals a change because it's an intransitive gerund(?),...

It's not a gerund, because it isn't functioning as a noun, but my brain won't work right now to tell me what it *is*.

> ... but the reader's eye finds it unclear how silvery glittering shards can be calling still.

I took the "siren's song" to be the thing that is "calling still" -- although it's still the siren song of the glittering shards, which I suppose isn't terribly clearer. :-)

> (-: Too true. There's no way I'll ever read any future poem about lakes, or gem-encrusted sunsets, without thinking nostalgically of "The sapphire-sprinkled lake of wine lies tranquil in the dusk."

Heh. About half of that poem I really like, and the other half I find unbearably corny. The sapphire-sprinkled lake of wine part I like, as well as the two or three lines following, because for once I felt I had adequately described the scene I was looking at: a mountain lake near my aunt's house in Switzerland at twilight. It was a beautiful moment.

Iss "I used to think it was a darn fine poem for an 18-year-old, until I started reading Kiki's stuff :-) " achar