"aeons" poems
It was golden and splendid,
That City of light;
A vision suspended
In deeps of the night;
A region of wonder and glory, whose temples were marble and white.
I remember the season
It dawn'd on my gaze;
The mad time of unreason,
The brain-numbing days
When Winter, white-sheeted and ghastly, stalks onward to torture and craze.
More lovely than Zion
It shone in the sky
When the beams of Orion
Beclouded my eye,
Bringing sleep that was filled with dim mem'ries of moments obscure and gone by.
Its mansions were stately,
With carvings made fair,
Each rising sedately
On terraces rare,
And the gardens were fragrant and bright with strange miracles blossoming there.
The avenues lur'd me
With vistas sublime;
Tall arches assur'd me
That once on a time
I had wander'd in rapture beneath them, and bask'd in the Halcyon clime.
On the plazas were standing
A sculptur'd array;
Long bearded, commanding,
rave men in their day—
But one stood dismantled and broken, its bearded face battered away.
In that city effulgent
No mortal I saw,
But my fancy, indulgent
To memory's law,
Linger'd long on the forms in the plazas, and eyed their stone features with
awe.
I fann'd the faint ember
That glow'd in my mind,
And strove to remember
The aeons behind; &
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.
And her arms enfold me,
I lay my cheek
against her breast.
The shaking starts,
the tears fall,
as sobs emerge unhindered.
Cries from way down deep,
and I hear her heart,
slow, steady, metronomic.
So I follow its rhythm
along a path richly bathed
in warm sunlight.
Through an archway
and across a threshold shrine,
the cemetery of the Ancients.
A hundred thousand names,
carved in marble,
adorned with statues and plinths.
Holding knowledge of old,
and the sound of silence,
like an abandoned library.
The shadow of love hovers close,
driving through midnight mists
and leading me on.
Practising narrative necromancy,
reanimating old words,
giving them life newly born,
upon the first carved marbles,
its names burnished with wisdom,
and the anonymity of obscurity.
There glows one name
in forgotten script
and I know my deepest identity,
the weight of the aeons
flows free into my mind,
histories of the millennia.
I know
my Forest Lady holds secrets
that belong to me.
And she gestates them all,
a coveted pregnancy.
A path-working, an etherical dream,
and her heart skips a beat,
as another part of me
crumbles and dies,
to mingle with the dust
of ancient knowledge.
© Pagan Paul (11/07/18)
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
.
Its 2 am and I am so wired.
Why can't I just be normally tired?
As others enjoy some restful sleep,
I am in a place far more deep.....
And the abyss calls so inviting,
a leap into the unknown and beyond.
With clarity I jump out and fly,
an excuse for reality to quietly abscond.
Psychedelic nausea as the dimensions twist,
forcing me to a place where I do not exist,
a land in which I may be killed or kissed,
but certain my presence would not be missed.
The feelers take a hold of me,
whispering secrets of antiquity,
revealing images of aeons gone,
in spoken word, rhyme and song.
I have the histories of many worlds
all in my mind strung up like pearls.
A line of lanterns alight once more,
open and willing for me to explore.
And my pale blue eyes no longer see
the images created by any reality.
It is secret knowledge of ancient times,
I receive in the script of cryptic rhymes.
© Pagan Paul (09/08/18)
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
Can daybreak ever
bring darkness home?
The dried kohl is witness:
*Aeons old, such a story
has been left behind,
unsaid, unsaid;*
Does spring ever bring notice
of the coming fall?
*Oh the rains sometimes
bring rumblings
of miffed skies -
Shoots that drop off stalks,
have not all
fallen for nothing,*
Was the little window of dreams
illusory?
Laying my head down,
stealing my sleep?
Aeons old, is such a story
that has been left behind,
unsaid, unsaid;
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
Compliments to the baker
and so too my Barista
Smoothest crema on the tongue
juxtapose to lemon vapour.
Intense acute sensations
insist I close my eyes
Submit in rare humility
in awe of nature's true franchise.
Clarion note of citron zest
resounds on mellow creamy seas
Mediterranean sun distilled
now is witnessed here in me.
Tempered, rounded bitter hues
from Amazonian dark recess
waited aeons to infuse
and bring about this wanton bliss.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
.
*She walks the castle walls at night,
with a rose held fast in her fingers,
the mist rolls away across the land,
the memory of her lover still lingers.
Cold flagstones beneath her slippered feet
hold the histories of the aeons tight.
Old battles, wars, and terrifying sieges,
ghosts of ancient warriors wail in the night.
And still she clutches his parting gift,
she wears the bond burden of his ring,
his love weighs upon her broken heart,
tears flow free with a melancholic sting.
They fall upon the stones and disappear,
additions to the heavy tomes of history,
little gems writing sadness in a story,
as she stares into the distance so wistfully.*
© Pagan Paul (10/02/18)
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
You long for the sensation of happiness, and try to find it in everything possible.
But never get that real fulfilment you're looking for.
You struggle to find what it is that you need, but you can hope its there.
And just by looking at a new purse in your favourite store, next to some pretty heels; that array of happiness momentarily lies in your presence.
But there are all these things to want in the world.
All these materialistic items that can make you happy for just a few short moments.
But what I personally really want is him.
He gives me that happiness that lasts aeons, and that is what I need
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 7:52 AM UTC
Perhaps I am simple
I love simple things
Glass, blown or slubbed
Crystal or colored
Cobalt
Emerald
Cranberry
Rose
Sparkling in sunlight
Catching the flame
These simple pleasures
Bring me joy
As much as any gem
Exception, the Opal
Begins life as water
Seeps into stone
Becomes over time
Fire within water
Shadow of aeons
Life within stone
Water gone solid
As solid as glass,
and as fragile
4Apr2002
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
You are the Love that I Remember,
You melt me through Aeons of Winter.
You make me the blazing Djinn,
You make me the Christ without Sin.
You are the Cure for The Cold
and my love is like Footsteps in Snow.
Where I follow with Feather and Rose.
To give you my Heart and my Soul.
You are the Love that I Remember.
You are the Love that I Recall,
You are the Spirit of my Crossing,
You tie me in Beautiful Woes.
You are the Essence of Color.
Also the midnight cruiser.
You are the spring fawn,
and its your laughter that makes me grow.
You are the will of the bright.
You are the source of my spiritual writing.
You make me the king in blessings.
Blessings of virtue and light.
You are the love that I remember,
the truth and the love that is tender.
You are the ocean of responsibility,
that I pick up when reason is withering.
You are the quintessential virtue.
That all there is to know is full.
The fullness you supply, I imbibe
these virtues; with intimacy, grace and time.
Jan 24, 2022
Jan 24, 2022 at 2:27 PM UTC
Pedestrian haplessly waiting
For a sign, symbol, anything...
Signs that usher him forth.
Only lead him from north.
Modern hieroglyphs that say,
Halt here... Go that way.
Passing views that beckon
Can't stop but keep direction
Caution...peril impending.
Beware...danger looming .
Watch a storm is brewing.
Stem from aeons' brooding.
Pedestrian...not yet now...
Crawling time you must allow.
Pedestrian...maintain pace.
Don't falter...maintain grace.
Give not to desires' taunts.
Crumble not to guilt that haunts.
Keep moving, stay the course.
Keep at bay, tearful remorse.
Herd along...await instructions.
Restrain all quiet tensions.
Cage within, your sorrowful gait.
Tempted not by beauty's bait.
Pedestrian helplessly waiting.
Between signs, you are searching.
Free will here won't be met.
Your final destination has been set.
Has been set...
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 8:23 AM UTC
I took care of others, walked in their shoes,
got their trivial pains and forgot my loyal legs...
If I present you the baneful thorns I have trodden,
would you be ready to follow me again and barefoot?
My mind will always be bitterly cold
as an intact valley and never understood...
Though I am sure that you do not care,
I feel well, very well, except longing.
Your dreams are flying even everywhere
while I try to stop contemplating...
You know, I am a bit chatty when I am inspired
and the poet inside me never gets tired.
You can't grasp how painful it is to emanate a poem,
how you go out of your infatuated mind...
When 'clevers' seek for justice, but only for themselves,
there is nothing else purer than the tears of madmen.
So, happiness would have been an evident injustice,
if all of the people attained their desires.
I have faced many types of mental battles,
but no war is harder than the lack of love inside.
Love is living your life for another one's sake,
sacrificing everything with honor and pride...
Now I am sure that there exists no hate,
but just does the love of hatred indeed.
Before the absurdness of irrevocable fate
only love will save us in eternity...
No feeling will help you to be deeply blessed
while mass is spurious and loners are obsessed...
As you **** your hopes you gain fake freedom,
but free slavery will still be going on,
sometimes feeling oppressed, depressed, repressed...
However,
Invincible I am before such odd jobs
and I have found ways to keep myself up.
Now I live slowly till the time begins to blur,
paradoxes take place within my dark thoughts,
I divide the time to its perpetual aeons,
all the rules and limits I swear to deny
and save the endless time when we were eye to eye...
Through your looks the heavenly sky is clear
and all the possibilities are real there...
My benevolent angel,
let the eternity recur from the start,
only the eyes of blinds do not show their hearts...
I feel very sorry and deeply upset,
when the human inside silently regrets ...
Yet I am too clumsy to move mountains,
to achieve sanctity which I want to serve.
I wish I made you happy at my any chance,
But I can only make you happiness itself...
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC
'BITE deep and wide, O Axe, the tree!
What doth thy bold voice promise me?'
'I promise thee all joyous things
That furnish forth the lives of kings;
'For every silver ringing blow
Cities and palaces shall grow.'
'Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree!
Tell wider prophecies to me.'
'When rust hath gnawed me deep and red.
A nation strong shall lift his head.
'His crown the very heavens shall smite,
Aeons shall build him in his might.'
'Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree!
Bright Seer, help on thy prophecy!'
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It's torture,
The way that he stalks her,
Mina, Mina,
Like some childish chant,
He calls her name,
We chant too,
Master, master, notice us,
Love us, want us, worship us,
Because we worship you,
And I have seen seasons pass in an unblinking eye,
How can I sleep when you are always awake?
Entertaining guests in the parlour room,
My pallor turns deathly when you speak her name,
Your next engagement is the chill in my tomb,
The fear I feel in her heartbeats makes my teeth hurt,
They turn into fangs with the bitterness I spit,
When you take her throat, I see red,
But I cannot admit these things to my absent soul,
By you I am vilified,
Like Christ I'd rather be crucified,
My wedding dress you nullified,
Let light stream in and burn me alive,
Burn me dead,
After aeons since the first I thought this bond was unbreakable,
1, 2, 3, women you have guided into your hell,
Still your thirst is unslakeable,
- But what did I expect?
Denn die Todten reiten schnell.
(Translation: Because the dead travel fast.)
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
Post ****** furnace boiling
The breeze kisses my flesh
She softly sings the sounds of bliss
Into my heaving chest
Unknown yet welcomed
The respite from heavy churning passion
Machines well oiled and primed
To deliver it's passengers through
Aeons in a few swift moments
She is my vessel and fellow traveler
Across the spiritual landscape
We have painted
Old canvas dusted and renewed
Under the Master's brush
His hand becomes mine becomes hers
Post ****** furnace boiling
New ideas, new vigor, new life
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 12:54 AM UTC
The shining stars are sunk in darkness deep,
The weary sun is dead at night,
The moon’s soft smile doth fade anon;
But still my soul is marching on!
The grinding wheel of time hath crushed
Full many a life of moon and star,
And many a brightly smiling morn;
But still my soul is marching on!
The flowers bloomed, then hid in gloom,
The bounty of the trees did cease;
Colossal men have come and gone,
But still my soul is marching on!
The aeons one by one are flying,
My arrows one by one are gone;
Dimly, slowly, life is fading,
But still my soul is marching on!
Darkness, death, and failures vied;
To block my path they fiercely tried.
My fight with jealous Nature’s strong,
But still my soul is marching on!
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Clashing lights from the shadows;
Thundering in constant motion
Red swarms overtaking the blue nights,
A grand disturbance -
Raging through the cosmos
Shifting the course of this endless strife
(Wake up now,
We have misconstrued our fate)
Spiraling forth, into nebulous unknown
The force flows from within;
Embrace the cause -
To restore a balance lost aeons ago
Gears turning towards a lie
Deceived by peace
Crucial moments for the light;
Two tides collide
Detrimental,
Sacrifices,
Interstellar transmutation
Exiled till, the return of the progeny
Remnants of the order
Confined to, the corners of the galaxy
Strengthened, by the chosen one
Fallen hero;
Exalts into gradeur
Shining greater than the stars
Universal luminescence
Macrocosmic ~
As Above So Below
Frequencies resonating,
Constructing wretched Elysium
Eternal cataclysm,
Decimation
A massive surge of power;
Lost, following the stars of scripture
Kingdoms falling one by one ~
NOVUS ORDO
Symmetry unfolds
Visions pass
Fallacies expose
Divine excursion
Escape the stasis
Elevate, frame of mind
Amidst resistance;
Ignite lucidity
Harmony engulfs,
This fractured existence
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
She rubs the night onto her eyes
In her dish sized eyes, tiny moons shine
She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
And you know you want her
But all you can do is revolve around her
She grinds up meteors, hoping for a ****
Her coffee *** is filled with Saturn smoke
She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
And you lay awake and think about her
But all you can do is revolve around her
Inside her chest, a black hole sits
Aurora borealis pours out her fingertips
She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
And you can't stand the longing for her
But all you can do is revolve around her
The stars form her body, her face, her hips
Kissing space directly on the lips
She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
You are a million aeons away from her
And all you can do is revolve around her
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 12:34 PM UTC
Programmers are the new age Necromancers
At a keyboard and screen, for aeons, they tap away
With the finesse and precession of tap dancers
They converse patiently with the cold and lifeless machine
With the love and care the rest of us reserve only for children
Filled with bewildering communiques is their lifelong dream
Their eyes dart back and forth in a room full of people
Hoping to avoid the gaze that leads to a conversation
In a church, at mass time, you’ll find them in the steeple
They are the toy makers of our current times
That provide your life with leisure and joy
To them is their code, as to us, our rhymes
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
This feeling I have that drags my spirit
And I indulge in its lowly zest out of habit
My feet they move in a trudge like manner
Shoulders hunched inwards non receptive to splendour.
How heavy it is in my heart I weep
For a life been dealt in a single, swift sweep
Cards that has been dealt from aeons past
Oaths recited loudly so that they would last.
Amidst the crowd of mask-faced happiness
Unconvinced, I slipped past unfound lest I be careless.
Discomforted in what on this path may lie
Discontented as such that my heart whines a cry.
Rigidity of routine when sensibility took over
Bruised bad and battered well my heart tumbled after
It felt like it's the end of my dream laden days
Reality sinks in, picks on my heart and there it stays.
I don't want to leave my coveted dreamscape
I don't want to destroy my only means of escape
On the ***** of fantasy, forever I want to stay
But it's crumbling away alarmingly like sun beaten clay.
I deceive my heart into thinking that there's still hope
Truth is I may have come to the end of the rope
Heart wants to hear a faint whisper of reassurance
Mind chides heart, it judgingly delivers it's sentence.
My cries cannot be heard, a wail of futile pleas
Banging on locked doors for which I don't have the keys
So weak this spirit for it has thus been broken
Morsel by morsel, this hapless soul is being eaten.
This burden I'm carrying seem never to have lightened
It is the dark of this period I wish to have brightened
Someone, anyone help...please show me a way
In this god forsaken pit I do not wish to stay.
However there exists yet a slim little chance
Key to courage is somewhere if I could afford a glance
Chances are that I may never even find it
I'll be trapped in a hole in which I can never truly fit.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
With querulous turpitude, I stood
Disdainful denied reassurance;
Selfless. My crying heart
The echo of the wind rebuking
All that is remaining of
what I used to be.
Grotesque deformities my reflection
The pain of pure love etched
In dreams of aeons passed.
Hideous beauty a frightening peace
A sweetness I founded corrupt;
Hell my heaven
My paradise.
Honesty a musical once
writhing in my breast
A seraph convoking legions,
Now wings out-stretched
I break my own treacherous heart
A fiend of Heaven a demon of Hell
The first fallen
Unto likeness absolved
The pennated breadth of twilight
Breeding familiarities contempt-
I have wearied myself, O God,
And I am consumed,
Resolute of inequity.
He that is down need not fear plucking,
Experience is the teacher of fools
And a gentle lie turneth away inquiry:
If the mountain will not go to Mahomet,
Mahomet must go to the mountain;
The nakedly wan mantic
Velleity to tear Christ's body
Malapert, before the ruddy shoal;
Society covers a multitude of sins
Within the penitent sanctity of
Heaven's holocaust, in which
No man can serve two masters-
Oh that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest
Eternal and absolute,
An angelic image of my shadowed self!.
ELEETE J MUIR
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 8:35 AM UTC
.
I know this place,
light stone avenues,
fig, pear, apricot and apple,
trees that line in rows,
cut paving with neat gutters
**** white granite buildings,
as ferns and creepers
cascade from roof gardens,
the green shining vivid
in appreciation of being alive.
And I connect across the aeons,
this place was my home,
from centuries long passed,
yet reaching out to be found.
The avenues mimic my mind,
long straight and narrow,
broad and winding,
leading to sedate squares
to sit and feel the sun,
to bathe in beautiful isolation.
And the trees sway
casually in a breeze so soft,
it caresses the branches,
enough to tickle the leaves
and cool the ripening fruit.
Here, the forest erupts,
circles around this sanctuary,
forming a natural hedge
to this garden of tranquility,
this oasis in the maelstrom,
this home in my heart.
Flowers of honeysuckle,
jasmine, of clovers and lily,
adorn walls and buildings,
bright in contrast
to the shadows of the trees,
bloom with the intensity of colour,
riotous in hue and arrangement,
yet, ordered to Nature's Law.
Paradise wrapped in image,
slicing through time and space,
my place a thousand years ago,
my place to claim forever,
and the wind carries me home,
I know this place,
because it lives inside of me,
because I made it.
© Pagan Paul (06/06/18)
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
A father who has conquered all
that is in space,
here and among the stars
and the higher worlds,
begot Her as his child,
She of an essence beyond time:
aeons of vaster joys,
sundered now from the world
so sorely imperfect,
must yet come down here
to lead us back to the wonder
beauty of the blank spirit
the basis of all;
We can bottle up fragrance
in choicest the vials of our whim:
but released, it must fill all space, no less.
So was She the freedom
shining in the stars
flowing in the rivers that raft through the hills
in the winds that beat down the vales;
Protected, She grew in his home
among others lustred lesser
shining forth as his darling
who would keep aflame
the glory of his name;
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC
Enraptured in
a fevered spasm,
Captured in the
mind's phantasm,
Swimming through
the ectoplasm,
Pouring from the
roaring chasm,
Hidden in the
soul's recess
A subtle, gentle,
warm caress
So jubilant, it
doth redress,
The hindrances which
so suppress,
The progress of the
spirit's wellness,
Showing things which
words can't tell us,
Giving gifts, which
none can sell us,
Do you
hear the
bell that's
ringing?
ringing
from a
distant
shore?
It resonates from
mammoth spheres,
In orbit, shedding
countless years,
Through aeons of
causality,
And boundless
temporality
We see how worlds
arise and cease,
We see how yearning
lays the fleece,
The wool over the eyes,
deceiving, cool
Dispassion's peace
relieving, our
Great webs
of pain and sorrow,
Darkening,
to light the morrow
For as all things
must come apart,
So suffering's,
great work of art,
is merely but
a transience,
receding slowly
in the dark.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 9:15 PM UTC
Gaia sighed. Not a sigh like lovers sigh looking deeply into each other's eyes. This was a sigh of resignation. In all her long life, there had never been a time she felt as unheeded as now.
Yes, there had been a time once, a time of oneness when all her multitudinous inhabitants had coexisted, when species knew their place in the chain of life and cycled through their existence, not always at peace but with respect for one another: the lion hunted the swift gazelle which in turn fed on the fruits of the trees, parasitic birds and insects grazed upon her and they in turn were the prey of others. ‘Yes,’ Gaia thought, ‘there was a time.’
She sighed again. She remembered when humans first came to prominence in the twilight of her existence. To them, she was the Great Mother, the Creator of life. Was it not she who bore all her inhabitants and was it not to her that they all returned to continue the cycle?
Gaia felt old now, old and forgotten. That respect, that devotion was all gone now. She felt the hurt as the careful balance she had sought to maintain was eroded, not by wind and elements, but by the ravages of humans.
‘They have overstepped their bounds,’ she mused. ‘They must be taught a lesson.’
She pondered on that thought for a moment and for a moment felt a surge of effervescent warmth flow through her form. But grim reality broke through her musings and she shuddered at the horror of the reality. Her memories were dim and misty now. She could remember her birth but only just. How she had taken form from the cosmic flotsam and jetsam all those countless aeons ago. She remembered the youthful exuberance she exhibited then and she smiled in embarrassed recollection. No life could have survived upon her surface then for she was wild and wilful, hot and inhospitable, prone to savage outpourings. But she grew, she gained the experience of time passing, and slowly, slowly, her voluble exterior became calm and gradually her form was blanketed in a kindly cloak of life-sustaining gases. The soup of her oceans spawned and multiplied a myriad of lives and forms and she thought of how many she had seen come and go.
The present again broke through her meditation of what has gone before. Now she was approaching the nighttime of her existence and, like the old elephant, one of her favourite inhabitants, she knew her time was near. She had tried so hard to adapt, to compromise but, like a cancer, the human scourge had spread beyond all control. Oh yes, there had been a few voices raised in concern and some, she knew, spoke with all the sincerity she knew the species was capable of. But, those voices went unheeded, listened to by a few but ignored by the many. Gaia was tired. She hurt. Sol bore down on her savagely, relentlessly and she felt her protective shroud growing weaker and weaker as every moment passed. It was now, the time had come...
© David Simons 2001 (revised 2016)
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC