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.
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.
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.
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.