Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2020

Give me daisies.
Upon the summer solstice midnight,
Wreathe white daisies upon my crown, and kiss
My hands beneath the heavy moonlight
And I will imagine you in stardust.
And I will imagine you in fine luminescence
Upon wild dark seas, your luminescence
Give me daisies:
I want to see the sun.

CHORUS: You are made of bloodsweet poppies
And the taste
Of every new moon night.


SELENE: I have been lying here for hours
Cold hands, cold fingers and wrists twisted in prayer.
I, enrobed in silv’ry silk and pearls,
Eyes upon stars and clouds,
Watch the days and nights
Blur and fall away, away, away
Away into one long, pure, unbroken, unrelenting expanse of time
Yes, time, and I
Met you and remembered the way it was
And I remember the way it will be.
O, chrysanthemum red-poppy mine.

Death speaks to me in quiet dreams
And his eyes are the clearest blue I’ve ever seen
Like the sunlit sea in summer.
He leaves chrysanthemums at my bedside.
I mouth that I long for his hand
Upon my brow.
He leaves golden chrysanthemums at my
Wretched and faery-garlanded bedside.

When the mountains dissolve into the tides
And the oceans become the deepest skies
Remember me at the bottom of the sea
As your bones return to the earth so dark
And quiet.
But soft,
Do you hear my voice on the springtime wind?
Do the birds in hell sing gently my name?
Does each ghost wear my pallid face?
Do your hands, in certain pre-dawn light
Appear as mine?
Let them clasp each other.
Let them hold each other tightly.

And I will reach down from my crescent bed
And close my eyes and with fingers stretch’d pretend
That I can feel,
I can feel,
I can feel you my spring-eternal friend.


CHORUS: A chasm breaks the earth in two
A split.
The stars break and swallow.

And I will imagine you in stardust
Skin silvered, with angel-like wings of white
And I will imagine the way your lips
Would feel if traced by my cold fingertip.
Come back, come back, come back for me, oh! come!
Don’t leave me stranded standing centered in
This moon-blue meadow
Of daisies
Surrounded by bright white little firelight daisies!
Daisies, petal’d, golden-mouthed and alive like
Stars several million in the hellishly dark night
I feel the hand of God is reaching in.
I feel you reaching
Mon étoile…
I feel you reaching…

CHORUS: Do you still dream?
Written by
iolanthe  20/F
     melancholicreator, Soloy and Holly D
Please log in to view and add comments on poems