In dawn embers lucid eye
I have dreamed high on perfumed sands
A blaze in passions rufescent dress
Bleeding ******* life and violent death

Winged a goddess straining higher
Drawn to taste sweet waters, dulcet songs
On the blue I floated a cast away
A lonely spirit shining

What thought of leave, promise and wines
Hath found me broken-hearted, soul on the knoll
Enigmatic carnelian creatures, thro’ fearing my rays
Doth call weeping amber and honey

Violent violets bloom these crystal swept eyes
Lazuli, sliver and gold clad skies possessed in my breast,
Sacred mysteries threading impatient words
Whetted curious velvet, immortal ******

──Evermore

©ASPAR (A Sol Poet, Arnay Rumens) 170418

For a witch’s mercury shall burn in the night of day

November’s Dark Moon and mists paused
fearful of the coming rosicler
The season of witch’s silver spun unto the night
A solitary witch’s laugh tormented the quivering stars above
With each step she dressed in silver sacrament
to his death── to life on this night

The moors echoed of timed rituals of ole
dancing and coveted by white moon satin
as though snow suffered upon a long forgotten desert face
existing blowing through her in another worlds wind
Shadows that once slept in pools of night
now whispered dark velvet promises,
tantalising her marauding lips

~ The Witch’s Silver Sabbath had begun~

The eleventh window pane glinted dew to frost white
in passing her watchful eye as moon silver mist slithered
through ominous black and grey clouds
Samhain drums vibrated upon the barren moors
as veneficium brewed thoughts enchanted nocent
wishes turning her chanting fingers to fire smoked obsidian

~Her eyes turned mercury blue through mirrors of time

A ravens nocturnal flute pulsed the eleventh beat
Ravenous fecundity blistered her mind
Liquid blood and silver anointing dreams from afar,
caressing her arms as vermillion dusts drift
winding her alabaster ankles
Sensually, slowly awakening deaths lustful shudders

Coptic clans of ole worlds whispered ‘Anoka ng ou kem’e nefer’
I am black and beautiful Khem on this nights breath
Ra’s ole demand shimmered like silver
a jewelled athame in her hand his mortal life, penance
Elegant Catafalgques laid to his Mastaba
Cast from Sun to burn as King to appoint all to Amenti

The eleventh window pane cracked as she burned white
her athame turned eleven times to eleven drops of blood
On a bed of fire black roses he rose within her circle
Her chalice of amber solanum’s to brim
bathing her body in rose ****** sensual arms
His sweet violet blackness tasted of Acheron
One with the Kings temple of night on the edge of the moor
Enigmatic creatures together

──Between worlds to rule forever

© ASPAR (A Sol Poet Arnay Rumens) 11/2017

Oh’ so silly my beautiful dyre,
Coveted down by the black sea,
Where poor hungry ravens scratch
Thee near the sea
'Come quick my dyre',
My darling by the black sea

In the meadow I am writing to thee
Dew is my ink invisible to all but thee to see,
‘Come quick my dyre’,
My darling by the black sea ─ I do love thee

The sun’s singing and flowers dance
in Roma circles they be;
Now they are smiling to me
‘Oh do come quickly my dyre’,
My darling by the black sea

Mistletoe sprigs are bargaining,
Drawing me under the Druids tree
Rich blood berries are offered to me
‘Come quick my dyre’,
My darling by the black sea

The sweet fairies are kind to me,
Pulling my locks and tickling my knees;
Giggling flower songs of love that can be
Riding my velvet buckles and,
pinning buttercups on me

Dragonfly's are here aerial knights in armour
Fluorescent blazes darting past me
‘Come quick my dyre’,
My darling by the black sea
Oh come quickly for ─ I do love thee

The rabbits soft warm nose and delicate little paws,
Are sitting by me devouring sweet grasses
As happy as can be
The old garden yonder is dressed red and green
and even the garlic and bees are happy to be

‘My darling by the black sea’,
Oh come quickly for I am in love with thee
Look my darling by the black sea
Come quickly, come, come to see
For the magnolia has burst into a wedding
for thee and me
'Come quickly my dyre', down by the black sea

The moon and I are humming and the tea bell chimes
For he has gone you see,
Down by the black sea
He’s gone, my dyre,
my darling down to the black sea

── Where the sirens are prettier,
prettier than me

© ASPAR 2017

For those men and women now silent
who stood in the cold night
To those who combed the deserts and those
who gave their lives
For those who fought shoulder to shoulder in fears and blood
And danced with death in chilling dawns
who froze in winters bitter breath

For those who laid in the trenches who whispered of peace
and muttered of hopes and home to be
Right nor wrong holds no place on this day,
For thee stepped up, for thee stepped forward
For those who chose to defend and those who didn’t this country I call home

── And we shall remember all of thee

For those men women and children who ran from bombs
For those who sat in air raid shelters huddled together
heads bowed in prayer who whimpered charred
and shook with fear
For the eyes that witnessed the fires
that consumed homes in its wake
The agonized violet waiting,
the smell of streaming fires and flesh across the skies
The piercing sirens and bombs exploding in the night
To those who carved out hardships and rations
To those who gave when there was none
For those who lay unnamed in silent graves
I give to thee all names on this dawn

── For without your lives given and taken I would have none.

To those who starved and were plagued in poor health,
I give thanks today for the medicines and hospitals
I thank thee for my life to sit in silence and for the abundances
For my choices to eat food and drink clean water
For the clear skies and this beautiful life.

── For my democratic rights were given to me

For the democracy to choose and for the freedom
And those who stand today shoulder to shoulder
Army, Navy, Air Force, and our four legged friends
“We Serve” in naming but a few

Starched on this day are uniforms, medals and buckles sparkling boots spit polished to gleam
For those now grey in repose in chairs and aided to stand to attention to salute comrades fallen

To the fallen thee died not in vain not through these eyes
Tis we who salutes each of thee in thanks on this day

── our day of Remembrance.

©ASPAR (A Sol Poet Arnay Rumens) 2017

my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.