“nights in white satin
( never reaching the end….)”
“and you want to travel blind.
and you know that she will trust you,
for you’ve touched her perfect body
with your […]
‘Tis loaming and an ill-paced sigh
sobs adumbral patterns in gloom,
and rising from the crags on high
a heart-rending sepulchral cry,
as an echo, whimpers to its doom.
From the magma-ocean, mantle […]
I really love the imagery and the comparison of mountains to poem/poetry. There are so many beautiful lines in this poem …so much imagery that keeps the reader spell bound by the intense descriptions and then the mood is changed, in a light hearted way, by the humour. Beautiful-well done. I enjoyed reading this!
All that is stramineous,
runs in crooked, fine, veins
beneath the mantle;
All that is precious above
the vaults, of her daedal earth,
is less compared to the lustre
in her eyes when she smiles.
I would lead you gently by the hand,
tip-toe through that mystical land;
walk through mist and dark intrigue,
another mile, a half a league;
til the journey’s end is done….
and we are never, ever again,
There’s a graceful simplicity to these lines – and the language you use (with gentle hints of almost archaic words) creates a sense of a grand journey in the old style. It is a travelling towards something great and good – as in all the best mythic tales.
To bring it to the conclusion that it reaches is beautiful: the two who have journeyed will never be alone. The feeling is that they have been so before – but not at the end of this journey. This will stay with me for a long time.
moss gathers stone wall in it’s arms
…there is the verdant summer embracing her.
the softness of her form,
the firmness of her throne;
and the beauty the season wears…
An aeolian enterprise;
the caliginous expanse
of night’s tresses pester;
coruscation in her eyes,
sculpt each venial qafir
to a penitent impasse;
as softness of lips w […]
in a series of precious events….
crack in a bradycardial heart
– that is where you left.
Hushed canopy of stars,
watch the moon tread
the crest of the lake,
in muted gibbous glory;
havoc in a dead-beat heart.
Familiar panic attack.
her memories, the shiver of a breeze
on placid lakes where moonshine leaves
imprints, ever lambent, always coruscating.
her thoughts, the auburn in her hair,
silken, satin, downy-soft and […]
Broken hearted, lavender sky, drips
amethyst tears on her unstirred lake;
calm eyes, cold breath, unquivered lips,
a breast that love would soon forsake.
Blood-drenched waters, viscous spread,
lachrymose in […]
fingers unwind, the very same that
caressed when intertwined, mine in yours.
and as we part, the halting caresses relive
the painful moments of canorous, crooning,
like a whisper chases its shadow,
around a domed gallery made of stone
we leap-frog from liaison to liaison, yet
in the end, as at the start – are left alone
Just a quick note to test the waters of the Pirean Spring, so to say.
Hullo and well met!
“A little learning s a dang’rous thing.”
I can already tell you are going to make me think!
I look forward to reading your poems.
Your effusion and energy makes me blink,
Did you really comment on every link?!
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing,
Tell me in toto…not just in passing.