Mood Clash







Emerging from the dawn's ambrosial mist

in starry veils from milky galaxies;

seductive as the Satyr in a tryst

with waves voluptuous on surging seas;

her smile induces songbirds to rejoice,

her skin is silken, like a cherub's wings,

her lips are passion's reddest fruit, her voice

caressing, comforting, in whisperings

of breezes barely stirring; in her eyes

there burns a black quiescence that defies

surrounding gales, and in her soul the prize

of fire Promethean to tantalize

the troubadours who lust for dawn's reprise

while fevered loins and lyrics agonize.





Where You Sang To Me


The brooding waves are slapping, lashing, lathering

the oily stubble on the seawall, mossy green

and slick and sinuous, like serpents gathering

from secretive Plutonic depths in some obscene

conspiracy of caterwauling predators

regaling in the devious simplicity

of their disguise. And this is where the troubadours

presented you, before a curtain silvery

and gushing, blushing, bubbly in your company,

your face a fiery white celestial ornament,

your voice Sirenic, turning strings to quivery

appeals to chaperon your silken instrument.

As twilight nears, a moody brackish probing tongue

consumes the rocky sweetness. Words remain unsung.





Mystery, You


The gasping hulks of rustpocked wrecks that share

with eyeless scavengers the mysteries

of Styxlike depths; the lecherous affair

of heaving earth expelling centuries

of fetal carbons from its fiery womb;

grotesque microbic warriors, whose fields

of battle on a wisp of breath consume

great armies, more than all the fallen shields

of kingdoms past; the artisans of stone

and bow, whose vagabondage would betray

them to a shifting desert bed, where bone

and centuries are ground to chalky gray.

Untouchable, like these, the fires you stirred:

forever in my soul are they interred.





To an Old Friend


Along the restless journeyway I chance

upon a long-forgotten place, terrain

disheveled, grizzled, gasping, an expanse

of timeworn brush and bramble; with disdain

I pass it by. But just ahead a road

once shared with you, still flush with pinkish light

and breezes moist with pine, where boughs explode

with blossoms, lanes of goldenrod invite

one's fancy. Old and new, our paths converge

in winding escalade above a haze

of Muse's silken breath, where they emerge

beneath the grandest summit's snowy blaze.

Sensations pleasant, proud, return to me:

again I'm in the finest company.





To Best Friends


Abandoned not am I in bully winds

that slap in broken rhythms at my face;

nor cast to sea, where sulking origins

of primal darkness gather to embrace

a solitary soul; and not forlorn

upon the spinning bluish desert heat.

Instead Aeolian refrains adorn

the calm repentant air; and in retreat

are masters of the sea, their tridents shorn

and spirited away; and from the sands

afire with dirges is a Phoenix born

and lifted skyward in protective hands:

all harbored in the boundlessness and bliss

of friendship rare; and ours is such as this.





Two Paths


A quest elusive as the mythical

Olympus, Sisyphean is my path,

like crumbling parchment, brooding obstacle

of blackness in a bestial grip, the wrath

of stone behemoths shedding sun-dried skin,

and ponderous the solitude that looms

ahead. But then a voice! Like violin,

such soothing strains; like mist of rare perfumes

that quench the fiery air; like veils of dust

that fashion spangled stairway panoplies,

until from Aeolus a rhythmic gust

elicits welcome from the deities,

and secrets of my fortune they intone:

be firm your path, but venture not alone.







Adrift upon the night, a rare perfume

betrays my lover's secrets: she returns

to me in colors bold, an amber bloom

of light upon her skin, as passion burns

from mine. Partake do I of flavors sweet,

obsessive; unto me her spirit pours

seductively, as if she could secrete

her potions as the fitting metaphors

for my expanding feats of derring-do.

With numbing flows of warmth does she confide

in me about a future rendezvous,

pray not my fevered urges should subside.





A Sentiment Unspoken


Oh love, thou shouldst in jeweled plume exult,

Bedecked blue-green in faerie-winged chiffon,

Or swathed, with pulchritudinous result,

In downy silk and silvers of the swan.

Regardeth thee as blossom of his soul

An epicure of nectar's sweet regale,

Forever doth the desert rose extol

Thy pearls of dawn, to rapturous avail.

So why, to thee, if passion grippeth me

And beggeth praise my spirit to impart,

Doth no avowal bare my fealty,

Or accolade betray my longing heart?

How best to celebrate the morning light?

Above, a feath'ry hymn in silent flight.






Eternal Search


Upon an autumn stage of fiery gold

there smiled an orchid, wild and pink, and cream

and puckered, fresh and fair, a blossom bold

as April snow, and stolen from a dream.

But why, thought I, should not such beauty be

far greater in some mystic, distant land

unknown to me?  And this I vowed to see,

to feel its blushing presence in my hand.

And so, while fickle moments hurried past,

I conquered every mountain, every shore,

until, once 'round the world, I found at last

the precious nectar I was searching for:

abloom and dewy from a kiss of May,

its petals pearled and pink in bold decor,

and just as lovely as it looked that day

when I beheld it many years before.





Smile For Me


A summer dawn

  of green and golden poppy fields

  and shadows dancing through the leaves,

  and playful pixies hurrying

  to change the world to make-believe:

  a silv'ry brook where blackbirds sing,

  the pearly dew on endless strings,

  and kisses plucked from sunny skies -

  I see it in your sparkling eyes

        each time you smile at me.




A Love Remembered


Oh, once amidst the glist'ning sands an earthen stone uncovered I,

and never so remarkable an ornament I hoped to own;

for every day I'd polish it, until, as if in fond reply,

it favored me with changing hues, the whisperings of precious stone.

And once along the wooded path a rocky patch I came to see;

'twas bare and unabashedly uncolored by the forest green

till summer stirred its secrets to a pandemonic harmony

of pink and purple petals, bells, and stars that I had never seen.

And once beneath the wintry bough a feath'ry flutter caught my ear -

a fledgling, nestling restlessly, young sparrow-hawk, did I surmise;

but time defines one's noble lines, and soon my foundling would appear

in snowy-blazoned eagle wings, with bearing bold, and pearl-black eyes.

And once upon my journeyway I chanced to meet a lady fair -

an image, faint, of satin dawn, a glimmer on a shad'wy knoll;

but morning breathed the mist away, revealing her a jewel rare,

wild blossoms fragrant in her heart, an eagle's spirit in her soul.






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