Tag Archives: literature

My Lord Neptune (poem)

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’tis strange indeed

that times come when

i am beset

with emptiness

it seems

no words can rightly say

what feelings i feel

within me

as mind and heart

are in turmoil

i seek

silence in an empty room

and find it haunted

with madness —

the madness that besieges me

when i think of you —

just as my being,

though empty

is haunted by

what?

’tis restlessness

that strikes me

o’er again

a relentless surging

of nameless waves

against a silent shore

that with the ebbing

empties itself

from an eternity of

defenseless sands

to an eternity of

turbulent tides

raging.

i find myself

wavering between sand and sea

in futile struggle

to keep dry

and yet

i long to yield

to Neptune’s embrace,

that though i

can no longer scale

the highest peaks in

my quest for peace,

perchance

the Lord of waves

shall suspend me

between sea and sky

and let me be borne

on drenched pillows of

rising clouds

to stars’ abode

where all seems

calm.

De Profundis* (poem)

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(*lat. “from the depths”)

 

 

so night has passed again

and morning breaks anew

as in the solemn daybreak

i watch the last stars

lingering in the salmon sky

pitting their pale glitter

against a sun reborn

that slowly, softly

creeps into a world

deep in slumber

where visions of the night

delay departure

even in my mind that though

witnesses the birth of light

still floats in a fetal dreamworld

of warmth and darkness

where throbbing hearts seem

merged as one sharing

one breath

until

even my mind’s refuge is

violated by the piercing light

and through swift channels of

infinite forces my mind

emerges into a world

yet like a dream as i

remain aloft on unseen waves

challenging whitecaps of madness

that come surging in with the tide

and finding myself

borne ashore where i lie

warmed by the sun’s rays

caressing me as a loving hand might

with the sea forever returning

in a spray as kisses

showered in the secret of

a locked room while

with each return the warm waves

lap my side hungrily

as though desiring to

consume me —

to drown me in its warm embrace

and as i find myself pulled

into its briny bosom

i yield to its

insatiable passion

and close my eyes as

its clammy fingers wrap

around me,

playing over me and

as i tremble

the sea and i merge

in a consummation of

darkness as

day succumbs to night.

 

A Poem

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where words unmatched mingle

blending themselves rhyming

catchy, lilting, light and singing

talking of trivialities, appealing

skipping, hopping, words a-playing

swinging, sliding, sinking floating

words that soaring high announcing

splendid marvels not once

repeating, speaking of sun and all beneath

and all above and within;

a tale of life, a tale of woe,

a tale of strife, we can forego;

a verse of nature, lines of love,

hymns and psalms to God above;

where words unmatched meet world unmatched

a poem is born, I am.

Dirge (poem)

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Slowly, slowly, drums beat soulfully

echoing, echoing drum beats mourning

slowly, soulfully, echoing in mourning.

Softly moaning flute’s notes wailing

wailing softly, slowly echoing in haunting melody.

 

In moonlit glade do shadows fall

cast long and solemn amidst trees tall

with limbs outstretched toward muted sky

that hears their pleas — and gives no reply.

 

Trees sigh.  The sky seems not to hear the wind

whose haunting tunes are snatched

by outstretched limbs that seek a tune

that though forlorn, when offered, soar on, skyward bound.

 

What sound! To melody, mute sky replies

in rage — or is it echoed sighs?

What tirade sky does vent on trees: —

is it the answer to long-raised pleas?

 

Like silver tresses hanging loose,

the sky’s outpouring changing hues

with every fiery bolt of light,

from heavy limbs that seek the shelter of the night.

 

And finally, finally, the clamor sinks slowly,

hushing itself and echoing meekly

the steady rhythm of skins pulsating,

seemingly calling, from a distance hailing,

 

enticing from hidden corners the echoes of drums

that slowly, slowly, beat so mournfully

echoing, echoing, in endless mourning

slowly, soulfully, echoing the mourning

of enamored soul left long to wandering.

Sonnet VII (poem)

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what bitter glitter do these eyes exude

that glisten in the light as dewdrops would;

what lonely sigh escapes these pouting lips

that once did know the bliss of tender kiss;

these arms that ache to hold you but once more

are lifeless driftwood washed upon the shore;

and oh! — to feel your head upon my breast,

more barren than deserted eagle’s nest,

would bring to me more joy than ever was;

and should you but ensnare these eyes of glass

with but the meanest glance — I would not seek

to cast existence to eroding peak.

could I but from this bleary life depart,

as parting token you would have my heart.

Absit Invidia* (poem)

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(*Lat. “let there be no ill will”)

 

 

what headiness, light headedness

the Spanish vintage brings!

we sing away the silence

of the aging night

while cheating true lover with

flame-lit glimpses — lash-shaded looks

of forbidden nature.

in darkened room

but for the glow of conspiring moon

he lies supine in drunken dreams —

a far-fetched land from day —

no harm befalls him

who knows no evils as may transpire

and such as that we share in shadows

watchful for that slightest move

when he should call me to his side.

we share the truth that i

belong by him and

faithful i should stay

yet faithless as the dog with master

still wont am i to stray.

somehow yet, you hold me

not simply to your breast

but with your eyes, so haunting!

and your words whispered

beneath your breath.

no promises have you given me,

no jeweled phrases of ancient poetry,

no! i would not be so drawn

to antiquated banalities of masked love;

rather, i find allure

in your manner that would

cause the demi-gods of romance

to turn in their graves.

yet, in so doing, what dimensions of desire

should be laid bare to barren minds

that can but witness

a scandalous affair

that would best serve

if recorded in immortal lines

of verse or stage

or better still

in godless world of film

delighting the audience with

deliciously wicked scenes

catering to masochistic inclinations

afterwards to run penitent

into the confessional

railing through worn beads and

seedy litanies of salvation and

wearing their knees out

on remonstrant marble steps

weary of their Janus-countenances

knowing they shall conciliate with

their errant doubles once

beyond church-hearing.

he stirs.

we cease all motion that may

give intimations of indiscretion and

as the conspiring moon

blankets its incandescence

we part

facing the morrow within

the solitary confines of self

assuming once more

masks of indifference.

Transgressions (poem)

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And when night has passed away

i watch you asleep amidst

ravished bottles and

satiated ashtrays lying

on despoiled carpet that once

was a manicured lawn

and sigh.

echoes of the past toll

in mind drunk with

thoughts of sleeplessness and

you as

fingers numb from touching

play lullabies in your hair

in broken chords and

arpeggios long-buried in

the archives of humanity and

transmit the ravaged lines of

romance in haunted

melodies unheard

through your heaving bosom

bare but for the osmotic

film of heartbeats

that shield your soul.

parched lips trace

lines upon your face

searching hopelessly for

an oasis of response and finding

mirages of dreams unwrought

remaining mirages of dreams wrought

in tangle of hair and sweat and

blood.

you stir

raising your face ravished

by the secrets of sleep.

what seeds have the spectral silence

now embalmed in prisoned consciousness

that struggles to flee from

the choking grasp of dreams?

i am useless.

and so remain as i

can merely watch you sinking

deeper into

the poisoned pit of

as deathless slumber and

in the frenzied orgy of

vilified abstractions of sleep

i covet the company of

your mind.

 

Triad (poem)

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a haze of passions;

unspoken of forces never heard before

between north and south

the thin equator

keeps equilibrium

the haze thickens and

the thin divider quivers

wavers

through a frenzy of storms

it weathers all

clouds rise

clearing skies

it stands unbroken

a circle running

through three distinct points:

the eternal triangle.

Interlude in Isabela (poem)

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slowly

moon rises

creeping inch by inch

over the silhouette of a sleeping edifice

dark but for the watchful eyes

of windows softly glowing

with the spectral light of incandescent lamps.

distant stars flickering

add their wavering lights

to the chilling air

compounding the silence that

you and i share

between long-drawn breaths

sitting on cold steps as we

await the morning.

Upon first wearing contact lenses (poem)

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what moonlit night!

so soft a light as dimmed

by shadows lightly

touching grasstips and leaf’s edges

glowing soft in yellow haze

‘neath star-filled sky

stars fall around me

blazing lights coldly blue

each star beringed by

a seven-fold hue from

red to indigo-blue

and skies as misty as

when faeries bathe in

morning dew and fill

the air with vap’rous

scents lingering like

the memory of you.