"clarities" poems
When you plunged
The light of Tuscany wavered
And swung through the pool
From top to bottom.
I loved your wet head and smashing crawl,
Your fine swimmer's back and shoulders
Surfacing and surfacing again
This year and every year since.
I sat dry-throated on the warm stones.
You were beyond me.
The mellowed clarities, the grape-deep air
Thinned and disappointed.
Thank God for the slow loadening,
When I hold you now
We are close and deep
As the atmosphere on water.
My two hands are plumbed water.
You are my palpable, lithe
Otter of memory
In the pool of the moment,
Turning to swim on your back,
Each silent, thigh-shaking kick
Re-tilting the light,
Heaving the cool at your neck.
And suddenly you're out,
Back again, intent as ever,
Heavy and frisky in your freshened pelt,
Printing the stones.
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Jade --
Stone of the side,
The antagonized
Side of green Adam, I
Smile, cross-legged,
Enigmatical,
Shifting my clarities.
So valuable!
How the sun polishes this shoulder!
And should
The moon, my
Indefatigable cousin
Rise, with her cancerous pallors,
Dragging trees --
Little bushy polyps,
Little nets,
My visibilities hide.
I gleam like a mirror.
At this facet the bridegroom arrives
Lord of the mirrors!
It is himself he guides
In among these silk
Screens, these rustling appurtenances.
I breathe, and the mouth
Veil stirs its curtain
My eye
Veil is
A concatenation of rainbows.
I am his.
Even in his
Absence, I
Revolve in my
Sheath of impossibles,
Priceless and quiet
Among these parrakeets, macaws!
O chatterers
Attendants of the eyelash!
I shall unloose
One feather, like the peacock.
Attendants of the lip!
I shall unloose
One note
Shattering
The chandelier
Of air that all day flies
Its crystals
A million ignorants.
Attendants!
Attendants!
And at his next step
I shall unloose
I shall unloose --
From the small jeweled
Doll he guards like a heart --
The lioness,
The shriek in the bath,
The cloak of holes.
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There is a motionless tree
there is another that moves forward
a river of trees
pounds at my chest
The green swell
of good fortune
You are dressed in red
you are
the seal of the burning year
carnal firebrand
star of fruit
I eat the sun in you
The hour rests
on a chasm of clarities
The birds are a handful of shadows
their beaks build the night
their wings sustain the day
Rooted at the light's peak
between stability and vertigo
you are
the diaphanous balance.
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Preponderant enchantments written
With dawns bereft tears
Of a hircine mendicant
Upon a necromantic acorn
Thirsting times wild-wize monition
During a week of sundays
Atide sins wake awash
Clarities purification.
Natures immure debt drawing
Maledictions masterpiece,
Leys bane web mercifully mirroring
Obsidian sibilant eyes
Peccably prenouncing the portent
Languid whisper inquisitorially;
Heavens augumented vestments
Distinguishable amid eternities
Pensive shade as thuriferous
Hallowed tombs loom black
As ink, somewhere that was
Thought to be void far between
The dark hour anchoring the
Fractured talisman of loves memoirs.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 11:49 AM UTC
Notes, musical keys, rythmic changes-
A modification of the Word
Which purifies her soulfulness
And expresses clarities in the fog,
The hint of Dickinson in her words,
The scent of reality in her reflection,
The words become a path:
One wet summer I heard your words,
The vibrant sky breaths
And the sun became as embers
Of poetic sacrifice,
Through reading your poem
I became as a double being,
Movement began
A sudden dispersion of birds
Followed by the Humm of water
On stone,
Murmurs of infinite moments
Painting them all like some
Poet Saint,
The words became a lineage
To the unfathomable depths of you,
In the helix of hours
The beat of the sea and the stilled
Shimmers of light on water can be found
In the edification of her poetry;
Master strokes,
Like a naked liberation
Of a diamond body beyond
A turquoise sunset,
A co concubine of words
That form constellated meanings
Among the pnumbra,
Reminiscent of the March of hours
In which the words come
And a fixed glitter in her eyes form,
The form of woman,
A form of dizziness
Like a dance of wind and water,
I read between the words,
Vicki,
Vicki,
I imagine a lamp in the middle
Of the night,
A pen and a womans scorching
Words as God had spoken
The First Word,
Like a moon in heat in midday's
Grasp, she counters every word
Of expression
Like a cell for my tortured soul,
She became my solitary star,
I wander in her hours,
Hungry for more words,
A memory inventing itself,
Masterfully,
She makes the sky walk the land.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 3:19 PM UTC
Comfortable with a shift
I am light
fitting about in small clarities
each of a color
nearer night or dawn
depending
and this mini-series of decay
a single barb on a small rose
exhausting itself on the sleeve
of a thin blue shirt in spring
and just a bit of my right arm
see it exalting at my drawback
I have seen a day pulled from time
with crashing disjunctures
broken seconds cutting indiscriminately
we are so viciously small
at this end of being
serial
and i am listening into orifices of wonder
wavering memories in memories of ink
easier with the current of the cool
ever darkening lightening skies
as they charge themselves with a day
while i sleep
Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 9:34 PM UTC
The problem is we are all the same,
We love to look at what we have became.
Embarrassments and good memories,
But the pains and sorrows are our clarities.
They bring us back to what has to be done,
Ripping away all of our fun.
Now is the time to change the pattern,
Fly to the moon maybe Saturn.
Chase the happiness you deserve,
Before life wants to send you another curve.
There are endless possibilities,
And you are the only one that has to see.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
**That Thing of Old
I see this disease
It’s long since been
It stands between hope and a world once been.
It lurks and cleverly leans in to play
On young minds feeding on hearts that know nothing, but dismay.
It raves and ravages endlessly
Gnawing on words and music
Till there is no sanity.
We laughed into the night
Clicking our glasses and thoughtful passes
Lured into battle – On the floor of thoughtless matter.
So we danced and my soul shivered
Another life taken
I felt sickened.
Fault not the looming canopies
Nor the tent’s of different clarities.
Nor the heartless or wicked
Truth be told…we’ve all been stricken.
We blame each other
No cause, no season.
That Thing of Old at your moral center
Seeks it’s way in like a small wooden sliver.
We maybe dust and frail upon sight
If we guard our hearts things turn out right.
Copyright 2013 Edward Perez**
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 12:35 AM UTC