Ormond 4d

Her beauty blinding
Young pilgrims in search of light
Mountains behind fogs

Ormond 5d

“If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is - infinite.”
― William Blake

In this room
In ocean flesh,
Our days, replay,
With eyes cut
Out under sheet
Of stars.  All is
Not real, screened
For a soul, lost
On the dry lands
We bury ourselves

      One day we shall
Wake into the sun,
And bathe in the light
Of unbridled constellation
And voids deeper than
Life, holy and actual
Like drowning flesh,
Come, alive in sky,
Lit by eternal sheen,
Lost memories, grace,
Being burn, new sparkle
Cast to air, as embers preen.

“In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors.”
― William Blake

Ormond Jan 10

Under loving branches of tree,

Singing birds bathe in garden,

Butterfly and cat jostle, sleepy,

Flowers bolt into the open sun.

Ormond Jan 8

( Sonnet )

How can my lips survive,
The wait of beamed kisses,
From your green, fey eyes,
Pinned, blind by the sun?
O like scarlet dipping into
Seas, your lips are setting
All the skies aflame in dusk
From them, my poor body
Suffering to explore yours,
Heavenly eyes, unearthly,
Bodies thrust lips to dream,
Merest, only dream. Pray
Tell me surest, sweetest lie,
How can my lips survive?

Ormond Jan 4

My ruby looks on stones to see the light.
While amber stars are flashing in her mien,
She forges facets with her eyes and mines
A rocky grave.  To bear as such, the sun
Un-sung, she could caul parhelion to dust
And still doom to shadow those fireworks
She alone ignites.  Here then lies a truth;
My ruby looks on stones to see the light.

Ormond Jan 2

Rain dapples in fens of the marshland brooks,
Among the rue hillocks of the sapling woods,

What little peace may fall to drop the shivering
Leaves, rood of the sun, a crop, kestrels quiver

In midair, to keep as they sway into the stations
Of all minions moused who faulter in formation

And bright is birth, when night clothes the day,
As all the mornings long, song of hope, in May.

Ormond Dec 2017

Dark wings of lost light
Feathered face of the fallen
Moon in your screeches

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