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Jan 2023 · 1.1k
Sorcier d'argent Jan 2023
You tread so, unfondly and almost—
too carefully after the echoes
of wintry whisperings, yet swerve—
and twirl in a grand vesture

of fireflies, of distant worries;
dream like a glowing summer
amongst dwindling youths
and enraptured stardust:

solemnly, and dearly too.

"I will be happy, if you were..."
insistent, you professed; yet deny me—

your caged heart.

Your silhouette casts over
the fiery meadow, over—
the vibrant ruins; finds harbour
only, in the eyes of the serpent

and prance wreathed in light.

Caress your clipped wings; embrace—
yourself and bear in mind, always:

I will sit with you in the dark.
Memories of a distant summer.
Dec 2020 · 99
An Ode to Endeavour
Sorcier d'argent Dec 2020
When certain thoughts gather in a cyclic recession, and the measure of moments decline; however dearly:

various arrays of colours and motives tend to converge into a common, single voice:

"I wanted to be better."
I try.
Sorcier d'argent Mar 2020
I once asked about halations, and wondered what they were;

If they did at all exist, for once.

How they'd appear only in blurry and unfocused pictures;
Or perhaps at times, still and expectant on the verge of our tears?

Now the question:
"What makes a halation?" And if we're thinking of the same thing.

So I then wrote about halations, and tried to make (believe) sense—  
of what they were (not) portraying.

I spoke of their lucidity amongst all others;
of their ever-curious charm,
and of their picturesque whims—

yet denied them a photograph; and opt for another.

Hence was said:
"More than a picture; a metaphor."

In other words: are we thinking of the same thing?

With it, I'll once again talk about halations, and wonder where they are;

Wonder when they might appear.

If the lights still scatter after—
and on the far side: if they would cast the same fair shades then.

Here I quote:
"For every shot taken is merely a remnant of the most beautiful."

I will speak of the light; and without doubt—
be thinking of a different someone.
Sep 2019 · 177
Short Givings
Sorcier d'argent Sep 2019
You'd ask me over again,
If it's okay to not want;
to not ask for more.

I would in turn answer again—
and over again:

"Despite the distances walked,
and sparing moments borrowed,

I don't—
I wouldn't mind,"

because to love is to give,
and that is all I know.
I wish I could do better. I really do.
Aug 2019 · 216
Sorcier d'argent Aug 2019
To the ever-lustrous Starlet—

Should I miss the fireworks,
Would you then save me a dance?
For when the stars would align,
for the afterlight,

and one just bow in the starlight?

And its captivating constellation.

Should hope flee and wane:
When the sparkles pass over
and stars reflected no longer
by the shore, in the afterlight,

Would you return my bargained sight?

Where falls your shimmering stardust?

Should we see a downpour by the starlight
and be drenched agleam under the moonlight,
Should I miss the excitement cascading
and the silken-moon cast in your eyes,

Will you tell me and speak of the light?

Upon my crown; by the eventide? If at all—

A glimpse, of that one look ever-bright;
(A tint of honesty, on those rosy cheeks;)

for when I love you so.
(for when you love me so.)

If your waltz would let the heavens rest undazzled.
I wonder when we’ll meet again. I really am missing your sweet company.
Aug 2019 · 438
Thinking of you
Sorcier d'argent Aug 2019
Know that every mention of the stars reminds me of you;
and that whenever I look at the stars,

I'll think of you.
Always on my mind.
Aug 2019 · 378
Whispering Ignition
Sorcier d'argent Aug 2019
The anticipation: the moment before the line picks up,
one compelling split second before I hear your voice.


And the ember keeps its light.
Would I ever have enough of you? I miss you.
Oct 2018 · 298
Portrait or Landscape
Sorcier d'argent Oct 2018
"For every shot taken is merely a remnant of the most beautiful."

Portrait or Landscape,

was a question I had. As I took my stride
by the sunset, each step closer to decide:

If I should choose to line her by the horizon,
if her smile would grace the far lazing firmament?
Or have me content; to fit her full by the screen,
to fix her eyes upon me: A never ending entrancement.

Or if I should at all risk pauses in between? An endeavour,
a plausible reasoning to paste eternal; to capture every moment.

I disagreed.

So I put my camera down and lived the moment.
I chose to completely enjoy the moments.
Sorcier d'argent Sep 2018
On the edge of madness she held my hand and said:
"The best things aren't always perfect, do you know that?"

Rose tinted papyrus and silver parched ink,
words written; heart stretched to a brink,
and I sought to picture, yet she peers through;
smiles and sparkles at every word said to.

Bright yellow dressed in a sleepless blue,
sometimes pale pink brushed in maroon.
Haunting and decorous; a palette uneven,
drawn infinitely close and I; completely smitten.

"More than an offering of affection;
a heedless and selfless dedication."
I didn't know when it happened, but I am glad that it did.
Sorcier d'argent Aug 2018
"Amidst the pleasantries and the cups of wine,
lies a desire for an ending; clement and bold."

Paths paved and discords leveled,
street lights dimmed as worries heaved;
in between moments; the air relentless.
I see a table prepared at dusk's end.

"As wishful as it is painful; only restful wished I be,
as I perched unattended; joy amiss with a cup of tea."
It might sound ungrateful, but I wish that it would for once go and end well.
Mar 2018 · 584
A Covet for the Lustrous
Sorcier d'argent Mar 2018
An endeavour to grasp the ardent;
trying to sooth the seething, the fervent-
-ly glimmering stars cleaved and concised,
misgiven and juvenile; yet far hind-tarded:

"The fool burned trying; and the starlet free."

And here I recon; I concede-
readily and consequently,
in admiration; in recede:
captivated, inadvertently.

Smitten and bewitched; I'd stay,
expedient and unruly:

"My sight I have bargained; all for one seething spectacle."

With this I stray, unlighted and aphonic;
I leave my sentiment in silence.
Sep 2017 · 455
Kisses Ungiven
Sorcier d'argent Sep 2017
In well wishes 'nd afters,
As if rested: souls asunder,
A heartful of me spares;
a few lips of vexing pecks.

A token to call me by,
A reminder to return to:

"It's a sign of love."

Over days and years,
in this corner of mine;
left for after are kisses:
A plighted; every three.

A token to call me by,
A reminder to return to:

"And I hint selfishness;
It is my sign of love."

And for yours I await.
Sep 2017 · 343
A Lulled Trove
Sorcier d'argent Sep 2017
“Insistent I beseech; that I must be upon its brim.”

Wallow-crusted, ink-seared bed; a crooked-
pearl adorned corals by the thawed bank,
Bountiful aye! The cruise has yet booked;
but hasty tripped the waves and got me shank!

“Hush’n harken! ‘Tis the fruiting!”

And yet amidst the spree;
thereafter peered I through,
A boon past filigree,
An overbrim en-route:

A gilded chalice; to glow when only spired upon its wallow.

“However scornful, I insist; still.”
I truly would, however sinful. For sure.
Sep 2017 · 527
A Love Story
Sorcier d'argent Sep 2017
“If ever so lavish, beneath the crescent,
ere th’ rose; unfair audience decadent.”

and to its descent I yield,
O woeful Iris; unto thine crown,
sweet beckoning kiss given;
taken, and I beg you slit me not;

sheathe me not, so dearly.

“If ever so lovely; she clings woeful:
Iris a handful and red an eyeful”
A story; or perhaps?
Aug 2017 · 417
Sorcier d'argent Aug 2017
“For this I am willing;
to bet against the well.”

There were forenights after,
When I’d again see flutters;
brims and flashes in fluster:
Daymares in excessive tenors.

In an augmented thought; the lights
rearranged and jumped off spectrum;
and the unbowed remnants, with plights
to infer; to escape such fair conundrum:

“If one would take upon oneself an ascension;
laid upon a fountain of ire?”

As if to live unheathered,
Complacent and unafraid;
and how would one have it missed?
Such comely pair untinted.

“And here I write, to make believe.”
Infatuation probably? I really hope not.
Jul 2017 · 650
Sincerely, Your Poet,
Sorcier d'argent Jul 2017
One at a time, slowly and softly,
I will carry you through the breeze,
Patience my lady, worry not;
For I will be your wings,

If you wish,
And only if you will.

Look at me, seek my world and
I shall welcome you,
With this chansonette,
This gentle little song for you.
A little undelivered piece I had written a few years ago.
Jul 2017 · 320
Sorcier d'argent Jul 2017
“Wir sind eine Familie.”

A cluttered freight yonder,
Fleeting sparks; a kissed cinder.
And to its remembrance;
forever lit, iridescent.

Echoes in fractions,
Leftover paints; patience,
Riddance; a touch to tip,
Fragments to keep;

And spirits to sip.

If ever a mirror glints,
and finds you pain;
When nightmares cue,
and you might feel blue;

Remember so

that we’ll never be apart.

“Hasten in joy, for the night awaits.”
A little poem for a bittersweet farewell.
Sorcier d'argent Mar 2017
If be becomes am when I,

When I am sad and think about all the sightings prior,
When I am anxious and all corners fall apart; prior
to the tipping top I am looking at, my dreams exhale
frivolous endeavours as I am trying to breathe; to inhale

In apathy.

Forgetful and retracted;
I lost tact in compulsion,
Exasperated and unfaithful:
I am divorced.

And so, be becomes am when;
I tip all dreams prior.
Sorcier d'argent Mar 2017
I’d consider a trip over two quills and a bottle of ink,
A wooden pencil as well; an eraser-ended one.
A sharpener green and stacks of empty notebooks;
Two chairs and a short table upon a patio, with a drink.

And I’ll be content with:
A couple forests to watch,
Rings of rainbow to wear,
And a piper to dance with.

Then maybe after a nap under a lyre;
trilling upon a bed of proses,

And just maybe then I’ll write for you.
A short poem that popped out in my mind earlier today.
Feb 2017 · 467
Paper Cuts
Sorcier d'argent Feb 2017
“Take away, the paper;
cuts a hole in the heart.”

Like bloom anew, awoken,
and envious: a verde-begotten
flaunty smirch veiled upon;
to flourish, now or maybe then?

Thereon fringes; in between spaces,
And the perversely peeking quills
spying; as eager ambience instills;
The silver bearing fissures seethes

red to be and yet; I see it paler,
that I might have it shed if ever
a pearl would shine over its beholder,
I’d dye me green, and cast that hand away.

“Drift away, the ink;
trails farewell apart.”
Sorcier d'argent Feb 2017
Downpour by the starlight,
Echoes of your name; sightless,
voiceless ere the wall looming; seamless
red string by a braided hind sight,

And I,
By the stirring crossroads,
and the preluding high way;

Finally you,
Across the flaring lake,
upon the entwined clockwork;

Our sadness reflected,
Joy fleetingly refracted.

Under the twilight sky,
In between the chiming fray;
Within a moss-covered clay,
We thus found the stitch to flay.
Parallel; a space away, never apart.
Sorcier d'argent Feb 2017
“Would’ve I ever seen such fraudulent impasse?
I cringe; and question thee, herein.”

Maybe in another world,
And time or perhaps when suns be cold;
When we’d again strum a chord
at once; twice probably if you would?

When we’d stay and tread so close
along; with the ever present glimpses,
In between and I’d wish;

And I wish that it rains,
that it blows,
that it seeks,

And I wish the stars fall too;
Glazing upon dawn’s garnish,
Th’path ere one fine morrow:

The sunset passé sky where they belong;
Ages of flattery in words along,
Praises upon chansonettes,

Grace woven; as spoken in clique,
sly humming veils’n smooth seething silk!

Soft, slithery, (sappily) feverishly-
uncouthly adamant; yet so verily
unruly in manners: timely swerves;
Quizzically feasible; unrightly cryptic,

Always; an ineffable coherence.

At what sight;
And I asked, *“what might?”

Fearing when it opens.
(I fear what’s behind when it’s closed.)

The constant rippling of consciousness,
Of brandless catharsis:
“An ever conflagrant condescension
upon one’s thought, insistent.”

And indulge me so; kindly,
To where it would stop:
Unto what such flattery
would entail?

*“And never would I have ever thought,
that you’d enjoy such silent company.”
I regret to not have said enough, but does it matter?
Jul 2016 · 490
The Mannequin.
Sorcier d'argent Jul 2016
"I sing for the past; in hope to wail for the coming future."

He says.

What of the present?
I ask---
And what of the passing time?

The glass freezes; rends
and the raindrop---
The doorbell, and th' songbird;

The mannequin moves,
And stops to listen

To the roses and
the dandelions;
Promises and---
The ever lying

Then walks unturned,
To ignore; yet again
Steps'n turns unvain-
ly; the floor churned

And he was sold to the ever inconstant.

Laughter upon my lips,
Ere my ears it slips
along it falls,
And silence fell;


"Envy be me."
I thought.

"Pity be you."
I last heard.

The door closes;
The mannequin speaks.
Mar 2016 · 347
It's been long Pucelle.
Sorcier d'argent Mar 2016
A mirror a warp, rivers and weft;
I found a world, in all woven scripts.

A boon rare'n fleetingly
Adamant; courteous in mien,
Your silhouette unbound;
Your complexion unhindered;

A glint of yond'r,
Stolen glimpse, far fetched;
Fluster; gossamer,
It's been long Pucelle.

A glimpse of the unseen, a façade cleft;
There will I see you, yonder which thy beauty encrypts.
Sorcier d'argent Mar 2016
Colours in my eyes; like rain
as it drizzles, verses in vain;
Thoughts upon layering vines
of prosetry; a delightful hymn.

More than a picture; a metaphor:

A dismay of one's own fancy,
Prismatic one would say; vibrant-
ly laced strings trilled, on a fancy;
Whimsical: clinquantly fervent,

Or so one would say; gracing,
Painting cliques; of colours
of places upon themselves;
As a canvass wild wandering,

Upon the world in its charming flatter.

Unlike I, one bound deeply; enfettered
gladly in between dimly shades of two.

"A mixture of velvety crimson and deep royal violet."
Feb 2016 · 574
La pucelle d'Alfheim
Sorcier d'argent Feb 2016
Love’s soother, sweeter than all lyre’s thrall,
Hark the lullaby held it captive, lest all sirens fall…

O sweeting!
Sang the wind unto me,
Lacking stature, crimsoned complexion,
My wishful gaze upon one…

Shades of affection, a dye hight red,
Sparked living as I gasped, “O yonder boon !”
Harbouring lust, yet gallantly shining;
Enchanting I, my soul deeply ensnared,

Yonder eyes, colourful or maybe of a shade?
One upon worlds, fair gleaming masquerade,
Myriad in colours, the fountain of all shades,
All but one it gleams, ‘tis yonder shade yclept fade…

Like Mab granting night’s pseudo-heaven,
Thou art to me my fairy, verily Mab; O amabilis!
Mine velvet noon, whose night’s fair and fancy,
O fair muse! La pucelle d’Alfheim, I flatter thee!

Flattering personas, all of the fairest,
Though one was lost, of all which I know not,
Wilt thou? Indulge me in those, thy full façade?
Sorcier d'argent Feb 2016
Solely and only upon yonder radiance,
Hovering in awe as it dims,
The moonlight, as it shuts the fireflies,
And the butterflies fade white lo!

Allow me to look,
To fixate my gaze upon thee,
To let my heart stray,
Just for once in all times myriad….

Because I see thee flaring red,
Violet too, as it shimmers,

In which I failed to see,
A star thought fallen,
One that escaped me,
And too, my conscience shaken….

“And how I’d wish to hold you tight,
To have your all mine, just for the night….”

The very strand of your rivering crown,
As it entangles hearts and souls,
One dash too many, leaving damsels frown,
Envious, as all their knights growl….

“The first sight of thee, yonder hair as it flows,
As it compels winter’s first sunrise….”

Grant me entrance,
Paint me audacious, if you will;
To have not a mere peek,
But thy naked soul I seek!

Verily, how I’d wish to stay,
Before yonder glistening complexion,

One elegant, another meekly laced,
Innocence, complexity, and beauty,
Verses, songs, and poetry,
O lovely, how it leaves me entranced!

“Thy very eyes, jewels a pair, the brightest of all.”

And as it brought me deep,
Far under fairly steep,
Sweetly enticing, it tempts,
Lusciously as it draws,

Nearer towards I; O guilty bliss!

As I fell enchanted to its scent,
To its vermillion charm I vent,
How red and velvety!
O how I’d wish to feast upon it!

“I vow to consume it whole, bitter sweet to its very
pith. Thy lips verily, Scarlet’n glossy!”

As I would see the whole of you,
Violet as it engulfs, thy ***** a hand,
And deep onyx as it taints thy stand,
A fair column as it braces; O grassy font!

Fair'n sleek, allow me to quench my thirst within!

"As I would keep you on sight, I'll etch it through. Your very stature, yonder silhouette divine."

As I bid thee fair well,
Eternal in a night myriad....

"My lady in violet,
Tonight, you look gorgeous."
A dishonest, yet verily passionate infatuation.
Feb 2016 · 329
Pavonine I
Sorcier d'argent Feb 2016
Pavonine I.

Masquerade flawless, pride a squire,
Pavonine I, as I gleam in fear,
As light truer revealed; 'twas hubris,
A charade clichéd from one, unwise;

As it plays, as it rings,
When it stops, a tasteful clings,


Pavonine I, twice the beauty,
Once is inconstant, compare me;
To gold, or maybe jester's fee?
A pouch for ye, two more for me;


As I would weave you a piece;
One entwining, two forgotten creeds,
Pavonine I; a serenade for you,
Though coarse; like a rug putrid,

A blight.

Pavonine I; as it would sound as rotten,
As always if only I would-

Let it never end, remind me.
Feb 2016 · 372
'Twas a hand away
Sorcier d'argent Feb 2016
'Twas a hand away, or maybe closer,
A touch away, or even closer;

Maybe just a finger?

As it glistens in awe,
Its unruly crown's prowess,
What was deemed a flaw,
I though bid it flawless!

Its very core seamless,
Vermilion; and too its crest shimmers!
As the sky paints verdant,
Though I once deemed it cerulean,

And far ahead, though I feel you near,
As I reach out; a hand to the glittering air,

Thin'n cold, the wind as it sways near,
As always; as it sparkles near,

Far away as it resides ahead,
'Tis always, a hand away....
I miss your delightful company.
Feb 2016 · 349
My Fiery Petal
Sorcier d'argent Feb 2016
'Twas the day of the flowers,
When I had it dawned upon;
A boon dulcet; as it captivates,
The heedless I, to remain un-fond,

Of what was presented in felicity,
Gracefully in its poise, as it flickers,

Not under, but in the presence of

The night's soothing confidant,
As it would witness the myriad,
In its ever vigilance; as I would too,
Betroth myself to this very word:


Much to my dismay, yours truly;
One concluding apology; if you will,
To the endearing you, much verily,
To the one in which I would confide;

My fiery petal,
One to have me stark,

And one to ignite my spark.

— The End —