"aeolus" poems
And the trees about me,
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks
Groan with continual surges; and behind me
Make all a desolation. Look, look, wenches!
Paint me a cavernous waste shore
Cast in the unstilled Cyclades,
Paint me the bold anfractuous rocks
Faced by the snarled and yelping seas.
Display me ****** above
Reviewing the insurgent gales
Which tangle Ariadne’s hair
And swell with haste the perjured sails.
Morning stirs the feet and hands
(Nausicaa and Polypheme).
Gesture of orang-outang
Rises from the sheets in steam.
This withered root of knots of hair
Slitted below and gashed with eyes,
This oval O cropped out with teeth:
The sickle motion from the thighs
Jackknifes upward at the knees
Then straightens out from heel to hip
Pushing the framework of the bed
And clawing at the pillow slip.
Sweeney addressed full length to shave
Broadbottomed, pink from nape to base,
Knows the female temperament
And wipes the suds around his face.
(The lengthened shadow of a man
Is history, said Emerson
Who had not seen the silhouette
Of Sweeney straddled in the sun.)
Tests the razor on his leg
Waiting until the shriek subsides.
The epileptic on the bed
Curves backward, clutching at her sides.
The ladies of the corridor
Find themselves involved, disgraced,
Call witness to their principles
And deprecate the lack of taste
Observing that hysteria
Might easily be misunderstood;
Mrs. Turner intimates
It does the house no sort of good.
But Doris, towelled from the bath,
Enters padding on broad feet,
Bringing sal volatile
And a glass of brandy neat.
3.3k
Spanish
El ancla de oro canta…la vela azul asciende
Como el ala de un sueño abierta al nuevo día.
Partamos, musa mía!
Ante lo prora alegre un bello mar se extiende.
En el oriente claro como un cristal, esplende
El fanal sonrosado de Aurora. Fantasía
Estrena un raro traje lleno de pedrería
para vagar brillante por las olas.
Ya tiende
La vela azul a Eolo su oriflama de raso…
El momento supremo!…Yo me estremezco; acaso
Sueño lo que me aguarda en los mundos no vistos!…
Acaso un fresco ramo de laureles fragantes,
El toison reluciente, el cetro de diamantes,
El naufragio o la eterna corona de los Cristos?…
English
The golden anchor beckons, the blue sail rises
Like the wing of a dream unfolding to a new day.
Let us depart, my muse!
Beyond an anxious prow, the sea stretches itself out.
In the crystal clear East, Aurora's
Blushed beacon shines. Fantasy
Is donning a rare garment of gems
To wander brilliantly over the waves.
The blue sail
Unfolds its private oriflamme to ******
The supreme moment!…I tremble: do I know–
Oh God!–what awaits me in unseen worlds?
Perhaps a freshly picked bouquet of fragrant laurels,
The golden fleece, a diamond scepter,
A shipwreck, or the eternal crown of the Anointed Ones?…
3.2k
Though thou did’st hear the tempest from afar,
And felt’st the horrors of the wat’ry war,
To me unknown, yet on this peaceful shore
Methinks I hear the storm tumultuous roar,
And how stern Boreas with impetuous hand
Compell’d the Nereids to usurp the land.
Reluctant rose the daughters of the main,
And slow ascending glided o’er the plain,
Till ****** in his rapid chariot drove
In gloomy grandeur from the vault above:
Furious he comes. His winged sons obey
Their frantic sire, and madden all the sea.
The billows rave, the wind’s fierce tyrant roars,
And with his thund’ring terrors shakes the shores:
Broken by waves the vessel’s frame is rent,
And strows with planks the wat’ry element.
But thee, Maria, a kind Nereid’s shield
Preserv’d from sinking, and thy form upheld:
And sure some heav’nly oracle design’d
At that dread crisis to instruct thy mind
Things of eternal consequence to weigh,
And to thine heart just feelings to convey
Of things above, and of the future doom,
And what the births of the dread world to come.
From tossing seas I welcome thee to land.
“Resign her, Nereid,” ’twas thy God’s command.
Thy spouse late buried, as thy fears conceiv’d,
Again returns, thy fears are all reliev’d:
Thy daughter blooming with superior grace
Again thou see’st, again thine arms embrace;
O come, and joyful show thy spouse his heir,
And what the blessings of maternal care!
2.1k
Static whimpered then, now
was a moment, is and will be.
But in my deeper blue, waits a
Sapphire cesspool; waste and ivory
the Isle of Man, wades and drowns
silk swollen in the silence of still water,
through Hesperian greed and the tide
of golden apples.
In wandering, the cicada and cypress
grew in a moment's swan song,
Paradise was a pyre, and it was Winter
and the modern world.
And in what days of one day
would the enchantment bring-- of
the red faces and quivering tongues?
And what would the harpie bring--
icy tendrils of Spring to cool the flame?
A wretched smile, of the witness
blackened, knelt cradling his
head in his hands.
and in that moment, I was a lost man,
a lost man,
And then the happiest on the face of the Earth:
Now, the night is shallow.
****** is a breath, Eros is breathing, I am still.
Still
caught in the net of waking dreams,
when a binary sunset births the piercing tone,
of frequency high and ears hollow:
I was on my back, floating
and Death stood waiting
at the end.
Chariot yoked, pinion on pinion,
I gritted my teeth, unfurled my wings
and wept-- the mind is vengeance
As cruelty is the Mother of love.
and Now
stands waiting,
in the memory of himself.
A war is waged each moment,
with the echo of forever:
soul for soul,
talon for talon.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 1:03 AM UTC
ares,
wake your son.
tell him the battle will go away if he keeps his eyes
open long enough.
tell him that his mind is his greatest
comrade and enemy,
and that he does not need to know
when which is which just yet; but to
trust himself enough to
live with the consequence of either.
ares,
wake your son.
tell him to find his mother within him,
and not look to you and your plights as a
reflection.
he was born from love and war,
love and war,
and more time was spent in the womb of
the prior; that wars have been
waged for the word,
and resolved by the same.
ares,
wake your son.
remind him that, while the
sun does not revolve around him,
it depends on what he determines his
sun to be.
may he have many
and learn to appreciate them equally.
i am too old to keep making stars.
the sky is full.
ares,
wake your son.
press your thumb to his forehead,
wrap your arm around his shoulder,
he needs to know that he is cared for,
though i cannot understand;
who has he met that has told him otherwise?
touch him only if he asks,
but read his eyes- he is asking.
ares,
wake your son.
the son of war has battled.
tear him from the lip of vulcan,
remind him of the mistakes of troy,
teach him what these men did not have
that he does.
if he does not,
remind him that while he is your seed,
he is the nephew of athena.
promise him he can learn-
he can.
ares,
wake your son.
the son of love is loved.
wake him to remind him he is alive-
poseidon likes to play games,
and he seems to have gotten to his mind.
he has not yet drowned,
and he never will.
****** will bring him up with winds,
it is up to him to fall or ride them.
ares,
wake your son.
he has grieved too long
over battles he has not yet fought
and may never have to.
ares,
wake your son.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
There.
It curls itself
around like dry milk.
****** breathes
the desert unto
Pastoral gold; a
swollen ******
No tears for lush
stalks of women,
even as they dance
under sterile
suns.
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 12:58 AM UTC
We set out on our journey, that one fateful day
The winds of ****** shrieking angrily above our heads, filling our sails
Our ship tossing from Poseidon’s restless sea, sending us astray
As our journey wore on, and as night soon fell
We found ourselves awash upon the Isle of Gael
Venturing from our ship, now sunken
We were met with fearsome creatures, their faces twisted and scarred
Escaping from death, daylight soon broke
The sky turning grey
The thunder rolling in, showed the might of Zeus
His anger flickering with jagged lightning, bringing tales of what once had been
A guide approached us, his face sunken and pale
He begun to tell us the fears of the Earth
A time when titans roamed and the mountains burned
As he finished his tale
He stood and led us through to Mother Gaia’s fortress
We walked, hearing Polyhymnia sing her chorus
The art lining the walls, long forgotten
Depicting tales of battles raged long ago
Between the family that ruled
Four elements would battle for control, the throne would be held by the mighty Zeus
Our journey had soon begun to close
We had learned the history of our past
As we returned home, our minds alight with new history
We found the battles had not ceased
We dragged our travel worn bodies upon the shore
Only to have to fight for our lives once more
As our battle on ground wore on, the gods became angry
The mountains rose up and the tides crashed
Sending the world into darkened chaos once again
We would fight the never ending battle
Until all the wrongs were righted
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
Stumbling down the road
Before the mornings first glow,
I walked under the boughs after it poured
And in the mystical dawn it smelled of petrichor.
Blowing out from the caves of the sea-
****** whistles in the trees.
His daughter floats in the mist-
Brushing 'gainst my lips.
Finally, spring's warm bliss
Sprouts lush gardens with a soft kiss.
As happy as ever-
I wander down the road in a haze
through these Halcyon Days.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
There’s a sidewalk here,
the city has poured,
cemented with smooth
and perfect squares.
It leads to all
the usual places,
only altering when
at last it crumbles.
There's also the rough-
cut route I’ll walk,
taking ******
by his shaky hand
to stroll where moths mingle,
dandelions dance, and
destinations giggle
tickled by our setting suns.
Jul 27, 2010
Jul 27, 2010 at 11:36 AM UTC
The old man chip chip chipped away at the star, orange peel shavings pooling 'round his feet like molasses. He looked at me and sighed out ****** drifting towards me through a wall of undecided fruit trees. "Sometimes," his hair murmured at me, "you learn that gray's the only color." He paused. And paused further. And the not-pause became silence.
I picked at the Stairway to Heaven with my eyes till it turned black and blue. "What about your fireworks then?"
He cut himself on the chipping knife and the not-pause was more. "Other times," he disjointed, hand dripping copper taste in with the orange slices, "We paint over the gray and forget."
I lit the fuse and blew up the sky, streaking it with sparks of gold. The clouds smell like molasses and rain and all I can see is gray.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
i. smile, they’re watching
–lips part, pink toes curl
against flat carpet;
what a performance
ii. wipe the disgrace
from your brow,
flick it behind your
shoulder; let it follow
on the ground as a
groveling shadow
iii. you see your reflection;
just another ship in a bottle,
with brown eyes and a temper
to match the sea
iv. lights beat against
bruised eyelids,
no sleep, no sleep,
you hush to yourself,
fingers pressed against
the neck of a bottle
v. this is a nod to sycophants
stuck with broken ships,
who, at some point, unfurled
their sails and found no gale
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
From Publius to Livia
Livia, I write to renounce your fields,
My sweat no longer yours to claim.
My harvests fed the eternal city,
Yet you see only Gaius and his shadow, Marcus.
...
Blind to the furrows I plowed,
The terraces I raised, the grapes I nurtured,
I tamed wild Ceres before you came,
Turning forest to field, field to farm.
...
Then you arrived, trailing discord’s hound,
Gorging on Gaius’s hollow praise,
Stealing credit for my toil,
Casting me as a shade on your wall.
...
I prayed to the Capitoline Triad,
Offered a white bull to Jupiter, king,
Begging radiant Sol to burn through your guise,
And bless my path with brighter horizons.
...
To Juno, I burned frankincense and myrrh,
Pleading ****** to sweep you astray,
Your pets adrift on Sicilian shores,
Left to Polyphemus’s wrathful gaze.
...
To Minerva, I poured my own wine,
Urging her to unmask your arachnid soul,
Your arrogance a web of self-woven lies,
Dagger-tipped legs stained with stolen blood.
...
The gods have heard, Livia. Your weave unravels.
My fields await under noonday sun,
While yours wither in my absence,
Your perfection a fading, frail deceit.
Signed, PERTINAX
Jul 7, 2024
Jul 7, 2024 at 10:44 AM UTC
As the clouds approach, the night loses not its sound, nor its shallow breath. Instead it sits in waiting for the moon to reappear. The whistling wind whispers to me. Its secrets send goosebumps down my whole body. I let myself fall backwards freely. I hit the grassy ground with a solid thud. For a brief moment I throw my breath into the wind. Quickly my lungs catch it and fill me back up with cold November air. I am freezing. Icy gusts playfully pinch my bare arms and legs. In the frigid New Hampshire winter, I wear an ironic t-shirt and rolled khaki shorts that barely covers half of my body. My lips press against the bottle and I imagine it was you. The cheap *** no longer tastes, for it has numbed my tongue. That is why it no longer hurts to say your name. Again and again I give your name up to ****** in the hopes that he will carry my voice to you. The clouds pass and leave this night behind, revealing to me the stars. For millennia the stars have held the same spot in the night sky, spending eternity surrounded by the same few stars. I imagine spending an eternity surrounded by you. The wind has stolen the moisture from my mouth, so I wet my cheeks with another swig and one more for good measure. I can feel the brown liquor warm my insides the same way you did. The stars are twinkling now, like the blinking lights downtown. My thoughts are diluted by my neighbors cheap liquor and my head is spinning. The glistening cosmos remind me of the flashing monitors. The sirens in the background sound like the beeping machines. The cold glass bottle feels just like your hand did in mine. The feeling in my gut is just as sharp. My chest still feels like a locked door, unable to open or close. I polish off the bottle with one long gulping sip and hold it firmly to my chest like I used to hold you. I let my body go limp just like yours did, the image of which still engraved so deep in my mind like your name in that stone. I shut my eyes and I pray through flowing tears that the freezing night will reunite us for eternity, just like the stars.
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 11:59 PM UTC
Still is the morning air
Heavy with silent moisture
Invisible state of being
Suffering no admiration.
Its muggy circumstance
No friend of the tender
Stifling energy willfully
Eagerly depressing and listless
What curse could be
We pray relief directly
Son of Astraeus and Eos
Gentlest of winds
Yet, Boreas appears coldly,
He comes bitter always
Accompanied stubbornly,
His biting demeanor chills.
Footprints in frost frozen
in place they are still
with uneasy eagerness they sit
waiting to dance again.
Come now if you will,
If ****** allows,
Come early if you please
Bring Flora alongside.
With flowers in her hair
soft and wondrous essence
carried in your arms
you’re gentlest of breezes
As I sit in this humid misery
in months you will take flight
I pray your willingness
in late summer dreams.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
Thou wrath is filled to the brim of God slaying vigor
it cuts through Aeolus's mares
and suffocates flames of the mind
splitting the atmosphere till thou breathes
nothing but smoke
~
thou body becomest nothing more
than a cavern of seething madness
eager to fill a void that thrives in thine scowl
thou feast upon hearts thou hast scorned
and the blood of thine enemies
~
I am forced to inquire,
with the shred of empathy I have left in thyself
why hath God forsaken thou and beholdest a life o' vengeance?
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 1:58 PM UTC
Nature's Retreat
My heart sings songs parallel to the dance of rain
Where lyrics speak true to nature's mighty chorus
Of colorful leaves burned from early frost
Where green becomes gold and gold turns to red
And the animals, both big and small, hurry to get to bed
My heart speaks to these changes all around me
Embracing Fortuna as if she were my mother
Wishing that I, like the leaves, could also fall and be free
Released from loose bonds that sway with but a breeze
From mighty ****** third of his name, God of the wind
Who that deceitful Juno deceived, to blow steadfast
Aeneas away from hearts true love, to a bigger purpose
His own Goddess to please
Yet... It was not to be for me
Too strong were the currents from that vengeful Neptune
Who then commanded blue Oceanus to summon the monstrous gray Charybdis
Pulling down on the brown oars of my life, seeking to consume
That which I thought mine, as if spoken by an Oracle,
A future as free and varied as a rain soaked forest in fall
Before all falls to rest within the spiteful white teeth of winter
Leaving me to dance in the decay of nature's retreat
I then cry with Terra Mater, reminding her of the days
Where our hearts sang and we spoke in hushed whispers
Excited for the seasons change and the chance to rest
Yet... I am not prepared to say goodbye to her
Her beauty, to me, shines brighter than burning Sol
Me, a moth to her flame, is lost when she is away
Tormented by the memories of life living only to die
An endless cycle of pain that numbs the days spent waiting
For spring to rise once again and refresh my heart
From the desolation of the icy purgatory
And empty forests, skeletal in appearance,
A drab contrast to the songs of revival and lush trees
That are a favorite of the myriad dryads and nymphs
Whom orchestrate the natural melody of the Earth
While patiently awaiting my summer heat
I miss them like I will her, for soon I shall fall like the rain
Patiently awaiting my rebirth so that I might dance with her again
Oct 26, 2024
Oct 26, 2024 at 3:44 PM UTC
Magnificent she stood
reaching deeper into the sky
the years upon years she pulled from the earth
the strands she used to weave her fibers
into the towering creature
that gently reigned over all those below
Perhaps she tired of ******
pushing his will across the land
relentless he was through the night
perhaps she was glad to lay down
eager to fade back into earth
to start all over again
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 8:47 AM UTC
Sweet heart of mine
this is our zenith time
our halcyon days
filled with summer wines
from plump grapes on the vine
embraces most ardent
love taken under the sun
with you my lovely love
****** to Alcyone
your valored love
vanquished with great ease
all storms and high seas
lends peace to these our
passioned fields of adulation
no anchor to set ground
or landfall be found
for all else
but lovely loves love
my soft cheek I did press
to your devoted chest
you nuzzled at embonpoint breast
so tenderly at lovers rest
souls raised lofty on high
incandescent bodies in flight
made from pure golden light
lucent shimmering with bliss
we in union, none sweeter than this
you and I, my lovely love
I surrender, fervently I'm lost
in your deep eyes so intense
burnt amber depths of mercy
feed my soul no relent
bodies vibrant resonate as one
passional energy sparkling
runs through us with ardent intent
our love feels aeons old
never cold and none more bold
than this my lovely love
rolled tumbled tangled by waves
crashed and dashed under again
your body my beacon of shining light
renders me willingly tender your slave
unto you, my lovely love
For no peace can be made,
lest you set my body aflame
at passions peak call out my name,
all my wild fires beg to be tamed,
by you, my most lovely love.
at rest in lovers sweet embrace
body to body now interlaced
all my edged nerves now made still
drenched quenched by your elixir philtre
glistening sweet honeyed drops
dripped on hot skin sated all soft
is all that remains of our tenderest
afternoon filled with lovers delight
your head laid tender upon my breast
our eyes shining with loves light
my most lovely love.
J.C. honey-tiger 30/06/2019.
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 10:53 PM UTC