O wreckage,
Piled pillars of broken crafts,
Come ashore.
Here,
This womb of world welcomes you;
Till your tinder burns.
Category: Poems
Art, emotion, life
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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. -
The Melody of Silence
The sky was a lyre;
Pink palate of rose,
Sapphire Melody, and ebony prose.
And I stood there,
Just above the crest,
Witness to this silence,
Mute to the rest.My hand, arced a pose,
I was holding the time,
And the ghosts of men,
Pale and soft, like fleece of the soul,
Circled me,
Like a silver ringlet,
In a tiara of pain,
Aiming to mime,
My claustrophobic completeness of being,
Rooted to the ground.Fevered they spoke,
With blood and bones,
Flowers I understood but this I don’t.So they paved a new path,
And built pillars around,
Walls around my waist,
A dome as a crown,
Had my lips weren’t of marble,
I would have said:
‘ You living are fools,
To pray to one dead,
Go sharpen your tools,
And grow your own bread,
I have my own sadness,
More than you will know,
I am the tallest of all kind,
And yet cannot grow.’But all they heard, was fury and fife,
So they lined more innocent,
And sharpened their knife.Neath my I fear,
The world was on fire,
Above me I knew,
The sky was a lyre,
Here life was dyed scarlet,
By men and their woes,
There lay an open canvas;
A pink palate of rose,
And I knew I had fallen,
Broken where I stood above the crest,
An ally of silence,
The same as the rest. -
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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Artless
You remind me of a portrait,
I painted as a young man;
With no colors to spare,
But many canvases to sell. -
Fettered
As a bronze balloon cannot grow,
Nor can He with wings fly,
Who sees fear as the edge of death;
By virtue from falling high.