"amphorae" poems
She sits alone with two antique clocks
one of water, the other of sand
I dare ask if she likes watches
Only the older, she replies,
they hold the infinity of time specious
In her words an elemental charm
and the risk of all enigmas
Then in contralto voice she adds
and now my name is simply K
and I think of Kafka's leopards
breaking into the temple to drink
from the sacrificial amphorae
My soul writes in ancient dialect
feeling hers close with mine
while I watch her body
from eternity in ****** key
a window of flavoured amethyst fire
progressive surrender
the crossing of a desert
the dropping of clothes and masks
the thin veil remains yet unbreached
the original time of the first blood
still under the anvil of desire
so rarely given the offer of this grace
the membrane of the soul to be loved
with pain, with pleasure, with totality
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 7:31 AM UTC
Amphorae, beautifully crafted,
Delicate, exquisite, fire-glazed,
Heated in jumbo kilns,
Lovely molded necks,
Opaque pigments,
Quartzite residue-
Symbolic, timeless, utilitarian
Valued- with xanthic yellow zirconium
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 7:26 PM UTC
She lived beneath the spuming waves,
A crown of pearls atop her head,
And like a pearl her limpid face,
Her lips of fiery coral-red.
Her palace was a sunken cave,
With scalloped roof and amber walls,
While golden-paved and turquoise-domed
Were all the dark, rococo halls.
The candlesticks, the marble busts,
The amphorae and frozen clocks,
Were spoils from all those star-crossed ships,
That came to grief upon the rocks
And when the moon beamed through the waves,
She dreamt of life upon the land,
Of painted birds and pungent flowers,
Of honeyed fruits and sunbaked sand.
She pictured there a gorgeous prince,
His eyes like shards of peridot,
A youth with hyacinthine locks,
And raiments of forget-me-not.
But when she woke, she knew that she,
Would never tread upon the land,
Nor smell the flowers, nor taste the fruit,
Nor kiss her lover on the hand.
And as she held this solemn thought,
That they would always be apart,
She felt as if an icicle
Had struck her squarely in the heart.
Jan 16, 2021
Jan 16, 2021 at 2:59 AM UTC