Eliot York: Favorites

Jul 2011 Eliot York

Nash Sibanda

She is as lines to Bauhaus, oblique
In category yet commanding in form;
Her mind a pool of wealth and Grace,
Allusions to illusions, omega to
Alpha’s strongest gaze. I stand
Failed, distraught, lacking the
Dexterity of voice to call her name,
The temerity of will to regain her fair
Charms and affirmed charisma.
Lost I am within a cascade of
Superlatives and tribulation.
Were only she to have conquered
My mind, I would be of sound spirit to
Elicit some tempered comprehension;
Yet alas, I have been taken in soul
And I can do naught but wait
To see if she will one day return.

Jul 2011 Eliot York

A Boat beneath a Sunny Sky

Jul 2011 Eliot York

Lewis Carroll

A Boat beneath a Sunny Sky

A BOAT beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July --
Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear --
Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.
Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.
Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:
Ever drifting down the stream --
Lingering in the golden dream --
Life, what is it but a dream?

THE END

Oct 2010 Eliot York

The Women Who Amaze Me Most

Oct 2010 Eliot York

James Rainsford

The Women Who Amaze Me Most

The women who amaze me most
are those who boast a body
close to perfect.
Then, elect to dress in less
than is required to prevent
my tired eyes from rising
to observe the tantalising curve
of well filled blouse, or
arouse my baser feelings
with revealing sight
exposing, toes to thighs
a glimpse of leg which begs
my chance unhurried glance
to pause, and cause reaction.

But, the action which they take
to quickly make some small
and fake adjustment to their dress
reveals the sweet distress
my eyes caress has caused.

They are aware, their choice attire
has stirred desire, and yet react
with tactile skill to close the split
which tempted it to surface.

I’d love to **** their expectation
for a thrill inducing chance
to show their slow, deliberate disapproval
of my supposed unwelcome glance.

Yet, just like less self conscious men
I find myself ensnared again,
to render satisfaction to their skilled
and ancient action, to elicit a response
they can wantonly reprove
with one smooth and practised
movement of a hem.

© James Rainsford

Copyright. No reproduction in any medium without permission.
Contact: james@jamesrainsford.com

Oct 2010 Eliot York

Upon hearing of the death of the Monarch of the Moorlands

Oct 2010 Eliot York

Rangzeb Hussain

Upon hearing of the death of the Monarch of the Moorlands

NOTE* - *The largest animal in Great Britain, a red stag named Emperor who stood over 9ft tall, was last night shot dead by a trophy hunter. The antlers of the majestic deer are highly prized, and after pictures of the stag appeared in the national press last week, the animal was tracked and killed in Exmoor, Devon.

These mist covered mountains of the highlands,
‘twas here that I once freely wandered upon nature’s pasture grounds,
Now I lie shrouded in the mournful fog of the lowlands,
‘twas here that I was met by a pack of bone breaking hounds.

The fresh dew upon the harvest of autumn’s final flowering,
‘twas here that I chewed the grass of sweet nature’s offering,
Now I grow cold upon the ground where I was stalked by dark doom,
‘twas here that I left life’s rocky way under a hunter’s moon.

The air of the early morn moor with the sky above my dome,
‘twas here that I ran and with joy loved and royally roamed,
Now my legs will nevermore click or clack over my domain fenced with tree gates,
‘twas here that I wooed and won my shy majestic mate.

She, my queen of the green woodlands, she was my wife and my empire,
‘twas here that we romanced in the fading summer’s fire,
Our charming child, my princess of these grassy hills now cloaked in shade,
‘twas here that she saw her father the monarch in death finally fade.

In the chorus of the dancing dawn awakening upon the horizon’s golden rhyme,
‘twas here that I sang the tune that will drum till the end of nature’s time,
They will come with stakes and wood and cross and bow me to the beams,
‘twas here where they hacked and tore off my enchanted crown of weeping dreams.

The scent of the freshly mown grass mingles with the green pine,
‘twas here that I drank the perfume and nectar of the divine,
My eyes glaze, my breathing falters, my clay chills, my soul no more sings,
‘twas here that I finally returned to the hands of my Beloved, the eternal King.

"...I shall now graze upon the sacred acres of my Creator,
I shall frolic and run free in the tender fields of endless splendour..."

©Rangzeb Hussain

Oct 2010 Eliot York

Even If You Garotte It In Its Sleep, The Cat Still Wins

Oct 2010 Eliot York

Lucan

Even If You Garotte It In Its Sleep, The Cat Still Wins

Say you want a cat. A dog's too easy,
would wag when wag is inappropriate,
and slobber on the guests. You'll take the cat,
so different and strange, it drives you crazy,

its shiftlessness, its ins-and-outs, its chi.
You call. It does not come. Is this a pet,
this Dharma ***? You say you can't accept
its vacant gaze, its scorn, who yearned to be

at home with feral grace, with all you're not.
But you're a Body safely locked from Mind,
that Problem no Mind solves. This point's defined
for you by ****, who's not the pet you thought

but Otherness, one owned by God, or none.
Cat sleeps for hours, wants out. A job well done.

Oct 2010 Eliot York

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Oct 2010 Eliot York

Robert Frost

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Sep 2010 Eliot York

Comfort in the Chaos

Sep 2010 Eliot York

L E Dow

Comfort in the Chaos

I need help.
I pull back my hair. Tame my locks.
I put on my mask for the lovers.
For the Customers
For everyone.
Anyone.
I’m struggling behind these eyes, Below these lashes.
I’m drowning in my own mouth.Sinking in my own skin.
Desperately clutching at anything that looks as if it might float:
                     Illegal substances
                     Old Lovers
                     Best Friends
                     Books
                     New Lovers

And we’re all sinking.
All drowning.
All floundering about this ******* life.
Blind.
Deaf.
Bland.
Caged.

Let’s all let go. Let’s all run.

Let’s all get California eyes and sit on beaches.
Let’s all hold hands and sprint.
Let’s go to a place that doesn’t sleep.

Let’s let go. Let’s Be free.

If I take a step, you’ll take two,
Right?
And two will turn to two thousand, two million.

And we’ll run. We’ll Laugh. We’ll Live. We’ll Die. We’ll Sing. We’ll fall silent.
We’ll Relish in the contrast
We’ll find comfort in the chaos.