O wreckage,
Piled pillars of broken crafts,
Come ashore.
Here,
This womb of world welcomes you;
Till your tinder burns.
Category: man, love, poem, poetry
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Lost In Reverence
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Tender Thoughts
I came to love you,
Little by little.First your voice,
Then the sound of your name,
The way you laughed at my reindeer,
Playing shadow game.Second are your eyes,
Those wrinkles at it’s tips,
How they rhyme with your mood,
And the shape of your lips.Third comes your hair,
Falling on my face,
The way you weave them,
To match your every dress.Of fourth you know too,
It’s something you do,
At the end of the day,
At the start of the new.Fifth is a gift, The way you smile at me,
Like I know all your secrets,
And that sets you free.I know this meagre words,
Are all short of it,
Of what comes to mind,
Of when we always meet,
To me it’s a dream,
To be with you still,
To rest on your shoulders,
And quietly feel,
The summer of your skin,
The spring of your hair,
The winter holding fast,
The autumn we lay bare.I came to love you,
Little by little,
And little by little,
Has love come to me. -
Ascension
When the unborn,
Claim eternity,
Step aside,
Father.You know it true,
You have seen it all,
When eyes open,
And the ashes fall.Here there be no Kings,
No kingdoms,
Only the dread ruin,
Common to all men. -
The Pages of Proscenium
Let life be a story,
And not a stage,
I can no longer play,
All the parts,
Again. -
After Me.
You loved me as a woman would,
Loved me as you understood,
That I am yours when the night is old,
For in day my darkness thou cannot behold.Lay there now,
And dream of me,
Of a world,
Where you can see,
My face in the onyx sky,
Stars for eyes,
That never cry.I hope no one,
Can hold your hand,
The way I do,
Warm fingers,
Veins aligned,
Blue on blue.But soon shall age, this wine,
When you will slowly find,
That this dull ache of mine,
No longer keeps you alive,
Then, beloved, do seek,
A hand that you can keep,
Through laughing thick and weeping thin,
White in blessing, red in sin,
Which knows, every edge of your face,
Every grain of your lips,
Every contour of your curves,
From thighs to fingertips.For only then would I permit,
This poem to end,
Only then would I ask,
This poet to lend, me,
A pause of his prose,
So I can fill it with my breath,
And gift you,
This lullaby of ours;
To thy ever after
My Forever Yours. -
Light From Another Star
The tommorow lingers far,
Like light from another star,
And there is mist,
With eyes in the middle,
That speaks with tears,
Of smoke and tar.I talk not of human,
And their negligible nuisance of narcissistic necessity,
Nor of the world with it’s viscous veracity,
I speak of nectar, world of gods,
Poets and paramours, artists and art,
Of the innumerable sand,
Dreaming upon the beach,
And those stars falling every night,
Who never truly reach.I speak of the brilliant acting dumb,
The sensitive roughened numb,
Blind men holding hands,
Children without a stand,
And oasis with scarlet seas,
Gold honey, dead bees.I invoke the untamed,
I call the wild,
Into this land of frozen blood,
Where once were sowed diamonds,
Now remains but dried mud.I know, my voice is hoarse,
And these sharp words are truly coarse,
For I too am of your kind,
The omniscient God without a mind. -
Fairytale
Permit me to say a few,
Words of my choice,
Before the whispers that they all echo,
Replace my own voice.Ye tremble truly,
Come day, come night,
And lay woe on passing feet,
Who knows you as a leaf to scribble,
And leave in wind to never meet.In dreams you rule the dawn and dusk,
Alive, you pick no pebble,
You turn to stone when the time is ripe,
Afraid of being unable,
This place, it’s a wilderness,
And the wild are lurking low,
Here all shapes are drawn as one,
Here your foe is friend and friend a foe.You aim to swim from shore to shore,
And bare the ocean upon thy palm,
Eye tempests for it’s hollowness,
Dive deep in her bloodless calm,
But the ship you choose,
Have no mast, nor sail,
There be no oars to row,
Deep in desert thy anchor sinks,
And the wind; she seldom blow.The hands you lay,
Against the sky,
With the hope that they will hold,
Will you shatter too, like others before,
When those pillars of pride grow old.
For if so then they will come for you,
Wherever you may roam,
And put thou in a cage, and say,
Now you have a home.For this fairy world,
This wilderness,
Tries one at every turn,
Here reigns he who knows the truth;
To shine one has to burn.( To those of us who dream but never do.)
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Life In Ripples
You poise by the preface,
Starlike; extravagant,
Tilting waist,
Measuring love of men,
Who dipped in your fragrance,
Sway like honey heavy flowers,
Drunk against sunlight,
Leaping emerald across boroughs,
Spilled with spring.Lilac dreams, enchanting,
You wave away tapered, transient,
All lifelike features, that taste of earthly leisure,
Absent.
For you dream of Angels,
Angular symposium of embroidered life,
And divine imitation,
Though you know it not.
For far too pleasure shatter beneath your feet,
And the sound, what feels like cloudburst to us,
To you is but a gust of wind that lifts,
The violet hem of your dress.Yet one day,
Your face shall melt,
Into a weed filled pool,
With a weeping fountain in the middle,
For all too pass by and forget,
Even when the blue rain, would clasp,
And hold you, immortal,
No nymph nor Naiad,
Or man, mermaid,
Shall know your depths, ever.But every other night,
When solace would have left you speechless,
And the silence; a silver mirror,
A shadow shall shape in your womb,
Desirous, delicate,
Cascading down, sweet and sour,
Like a citrus kiss of longing,
And you will be alone, no longer,
But one with the moon,
Dancing on his tunes,
In trance like ripples. -
Damask
Her bright cheeks,
Were stately cold,
My hand young,
Hers far too old,
Raven hair mine,
Matched my gown,
A snow pierced mantle,
Covered her crown,
I was night,
She was day at dawn,
I saw all,
She looked blind as fawn,
We held hand,
And we walked our way,
I left for the past,
She came for today. -
Magnum
Deep into this journey,
Long after the deep susurration of life,
And the sense of longing,
Of natal desire,
Is dried and shorn as bark and wool,
And bright as the nectar corals,
Burnt with tired timber,
Does the dull truth of things,
Worm in.Baleful eyes, kissed with Kohl yet
Empty inside,
Burrowed by the undoing of this ethereal Magnum,
This caustic world,
With it’s walls of freedom, aching,
Breaking against blindness,
Seek,
Weep,
And speak, no more than what the silence taught them in form of tears.A panacea,
To all immutable happenstance. Measured, immeasurable,
Paraded or parodied,
Through one life iterated, in many lives over,
Rags and rags, covering a bareness,
That reflects in no light,
But unfurls in each darkness,
Like moon upon lotus lips,
Of philosophers and Pharaohs,
Of travellers and treasurers,
Of hunters and hoarders.Unceasingly mitigated,
Yet never really moving,
Until stillness itself stills,
And all forms, wither into one,
And all one’s merge into none.Panacea,
The answer to no question.