To a Friend

July 27, 2016

 

Golden disk of sun,

Radiant, copper fire, lost in milky clouds.

Red like change but at rest,

A bronze figurine,

sun-drenched sphinx,

floating peaceful

above every torrid twist and turn of time.

I love you, my sunlight,

my thing of beauty unmarred.

 

cat

‘SLEEPING CAT’ – Pen & Ink and Watercolour by Richard Marsh, source: Etsy.com

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A Song alone

February 15, 2016

 

 

I once sang a song alone,

the strings of my throat avibe,

the plectrum of my heart in place.

No one listened, no one heard,

yet the very walls inclined.

I once chanted a psalm unwritten,

the zither of my spirit wrung tight,

The dusty air with sonor

left the antiphon unsaid, unvoiced.

I once composed a dirge,

the chord of my tongue in D-minor,

for no one

and they didn’t weep.

I once rejoined a wedding hymn,

the organ of my lungs billowed,

like the descant of royal flute

played by none

yet answered by spring’s bloom.

I once tuned the tympanym of my lips

to twirl,

dancing like heavenly spheres

lost in the blink of an angel’s eye.

Ein Klein Nachtmusik

February 15, 2016

 

nyx.jpg

 

At last, falls the curtain,

still, dread velvet weaves the quiet,

a flurry of feathers, ancient tracks,

Aqua regia and wheaten witches’ moons.

How can I connect

the sacred and profane, the lofty and lowly,

the many strands of soundless symphony?

Do the trees answer life and death,

motherhood and loss?

Do lunar phases mark love’s mood

both tragic and elated?

Can the eloquent calligraphy of frost

record seasons, longings and sighs?

Is she Diana who births the night,

or Nyx spreading her inky cloak?

Is it the she-wolf, wraith or sprite

who strikes the danse macabre entwined?

Is this the lesser time of God,

or the penance to repair what’s lost?

Of snow and ashes, would I be remiss,

of that noiseless time when destroying angels pass.

In the lightless underworld,

do owls hymn thee?

When fearsome things tramp afoot,

does the unknown, unseen, unremembered cry?

There is appointed the time to awake

and to die.

After every day surely comes night

on rodent feet

singing the unsung requiem

taps on a graveyard bugle,

Nunc dimittis in velvet black

because the white of dawn may wake them.

Love poem (Untitled)

July 31, 2014

How mortal eyes behold dawn-light
the manner he beholds me.
Be I fragile as a torn feather,
a snowflake whose crystals have touched warmth.
Mind the river swelling its flood-banks,
giving bounty so green.

….A river perpetually flowing.
Mind the fox pup playing
laving paw-prints so deep in spring mud
where bushes bloom.
…Happiness ever yours.

 

garden of eden

Eventide

April 7, 2014

Why for, we seek immortality and dreams?

Is time numbered by hours seated at a window wishing,

days spent counting coins,

months reaping and gathering?

By years rapt in love’s fires,

within age’s wintry night?

 

The sower toils golden fields, eyes vigilant

yet tends his father’s grave.

Children skip over gardens adance,

yet behold the eagle’s distant flight.

Friars pray in cloisters adorned,

yet sing evening’s requiem.

 

Death seizes and respects not.

Its day sure as resting sun.

Sure as the gnat circles in midday,

As lambs in darkness follow only their herder.

This silent visitor, the faceless judge,

beckons both doors of young and old.

 

Whilst plagued beggars shiver,

and consumption claims kings,

Weavers and merchants wail,

as virgins travail.

Men, all of men,

shall languish.

memento-mori-by-dh-at-rylands-library1

De Profundis

July 14, 2013

I plummeted down,

that labyrinthine way,

where deep calls upon deep.

There, I wrestled the waves,

the murk-laden crests, drowning sweeps, fell sands.

Besot, my soul,

laid waste everything in me

like blackest lead.

Tears beyond count,

loud lamentation aspersed, feeds the salty swirl.

Aphrodite, her foamy tomb,

so fair, verdant, livid,

made naught.

Sirens trumpet-call,

taunting love never-met, never meant to be,

Hades open-mawed,

the old devestatrix,

welcome waits.

Oh that I might sink into oblivion!

Buried in sweet pain,

sweetest might forget, ere sharpest to fight.

Dare I stay,

where no solace, dark mist can depart,

no hope alights, no love echo?

 

444px-de-profundis-1