Disconcerting; expressionless about the face,
The eyes, the gestures, my smile in any minor step
You take; sudden entrances, exists, all essentials swept
In torrents across this mobile stage, the supple need for guidance as I pace
The floor to find my shoes. The simplest gesture burns; the sparks, elite,
So subtle brilliance in the softest action while you, the witness to it all abhor
The fact that what I am is what you are. Denial rages through a score
Of fears exhaled in sweat and tears that flood whenever I begin to seat
Your soul where it belongs, this sacred trust
held deep within me. Rest easy, friend.
I will be true to you. In later moments when I’m gone you’ll think
On it and know we are nothing if not sums of spirits
in the grip of centrifuge. We drink
From common ladles. Mortgaged mornings’ lights’ assay and bend
The prism’s light to bleed tomorrow’s rainbow’s form from drops.
We form an ocean, mariners of error and mistake;
We bear a circumstantial curse that leads
to universal light in every breath we take.
Posted in Action, Breath, Curse, Denial, Ends, Entrances, Errors, Exits, Eyes, Fear, Gestures, Guidance, Marriners, Mistakes, Poetry, Prism, Rainbow, Stage, Sums of spirits, Universal light
Tagged Age, Aging, Lyric Poetry, Relationships, Sonnet, Sonnets, Strife
“Within the Second”
Within the second, tension
Greeting and suspension
Sought by no one’s intervention
Never seen when the incision
First was made; immediately regretted,
The fisherman must pay out nets in
By miles in order to withdraw from what is set in
Stone for life and wife and children and the silence of posterity. Sunsets
Measured by exigency’s precision and jealous alacrity in moments
Of lucidity crown flights that condescend to incidents and stories
Never dreamed by this finest man or that great fish by land or sea
But in and with slightest motion’s predetermined goals, histories
Of continents and oceans satisfy Calliope
and there within their stations, torments
Boast of sacrifice for crowds where cowards
in the chorus crucify their tragic characters and epic plots
swell as sweat from depths within the pores of poets
finding every gilded ancient fear a kind of test
that does not rest but resonates as never-ending glory.
Posted in Action, Chorus, Classic, Crucifixion, Elements of Narration, Epic poetry, Fate, Fear, Fisherman, Gods, Greece, Martyrdom, Muses, Negation, Pathos, Poetry, Posterity, Providence, Rest, Sacrifice, Stations, Tragedy, Tragic Flaw
Tagged Calliope, Character, Chorus, Lyric Poetry, Plot, Setting, Sonnet, Theme
“A Simple Chemistry”
A simple chemistry, the day, the night,
And what of course is never meant to be;
But still the hope is there, the simile
That never quite transforms a noun nor quite
Contents itself in action, so never mind a verb.
But, then what a change of heart is there.
Reaction taut, willingness, a kind of gas, an air
Of great and greater expectations that serves
No more than casual attention yet is so deadly. No, of course,
It cannot come to this. But, yes, eventually it does.
And with the cat’s release, it must.
The thing is there to see, to feel, to taste. The horse
Before the cart, perhaps, but nonetheless, a paradigm of waste,
And with each fine turning of the wheel the love of wanton haste.
Posted in Action, Affirmation, Appearances, Double Sonnet, God, Grammar, Hope, Midnight, Poetry
Tagged 1946-- ], Double Sonnet, Lieutenant-General Romeo Antonius Dallaire [June 25, Lyric Poetry, Noun, Sonnet, Subjunctive tense, Verb
“Did You Think…?”
Did you think it pays to read between the Holy Lines
That spoke with outward-bound and bonded particulars and austerity
In eloquence to which the gray-scale decibels of earthbound clarity
Speak volumes if only to the ears of dogs or elephants; defined
Somewhere between the womb and coffin, clearly signed
Within the matrix, nothing; to all else
exquisite in the melody of choice, metonymy
In fear, perhaps, but action put to wind chimes, pure and unrefined divinity
To souls of children and the penitent in prayer, yet the object undefined?
Within composts of saints and poets supernal senses are recused, none refused, and far beyond, their Prophets,
Hounded and reviled within their own brief imprisoned span,
The single particle becomes the raging legion
in cycles newly framed in paradigms
So far from what was or seemed to be convenient both to litigants and followers,
All concave mirrors turned to Truth. Their attentions birth
as the premature in understanding puts the match
to kindling fires of corruption in the land.
…Yes; even the word holds sway in beauty just as be and come and go as always in concert with all beauteous words seem to hold some affinity to one another that begs for more; it is the glory of affirmation; negation is its inverse holding fast to less as nothing seducing while it shuns to die as though to love is somehow related to a force of hatred amongst the other sovereignties and prerogatives of antithesis, and, while integral to physical existence, are nevertheless peculiar to this world only and can draw no conclusion beyond the present natural illusions of form. Such fellowship is its own demise as is all that occurs in the material universe.
“The Midnight Hymn”
[ 1844 A.D. – 1910 A.D.]
Oh man! Take heed!
What does the deep midnight say?
I have awakened from a deep dream.
The world is deep.
And deeper than the day remembers.
Deep is its suffering.
Joy is deeper yet than heartache!
Suffering speaks: Begone!
All joys want eternity,
Want deep, deep eternity.
Posted in Action, Affirmation, Antithesis, Denial, Dogs, Elephants, Fear, Fire, Hubris, Light, Matrix, Poetry, Pyrrhic Victory, Thesis
Tagged Lyric Poetry, Sonnets