"coeval" poems
1556
Image of Light, Adieu—
Thanks for the interview—
So long—so short—
Preceptor of the whole—
Coeval Cardinal—
Impart—Depart—
3.1k
Lo! I lament. Fallen is the sixfold Star:
Slain is Asar.
O twinned with me in the womb of Night!
O son of my bowels to the Lord of Light!
O man of mine that hast covered me
From the shame of my virginity!
Where art thou? Is it not Apep thy brother,
The snake in my womb that am thy mother,
That hath slain thee by violence girt with guile,
And scattered thy limbs on the Nile?
Lo! I lament. I have forged a whirling Star:
I seek Asar.
O Nepti, sister! Arise in the dusk
From thy chamber of mystery and musk!
Come with me, though weary the way,
To bring back his life to the rended clay!
See! are not these the hands that wove
Delight, and these the arms that strove
With me? And these the feet, the thighs
That were lovely in mine eyes?
Lo! IO lament. I gather in my car
Thine head, Asar.
And this -is this not the trunk he rended?
But -oh! oh! oh! -the task transcended,
Where is the holy idol that stood
For the god of thy queen's beatitude?
Here is the tent -but where is the pole?
Here is the body -but where is the soul?
Nepti, sister, the work is undone
For lack of the needed One!
Lo! I lament. There is no god so far
As mine Asar!
There is no hope, none, in the corpse, in the tomb.
But these -what are these that war in my womb?
There is vengeance and triumph at last of Maat
In Ra-Hoor-Khut and in Hoor-pa-Kraat!
Twins they shall rise; being twins they are one,
The Lord of the Sword and the Son of the Sun!
Silence, coeval colleague of the Voice,
The plumes of Amoun -rejoice!
Lo! I rejoice. I heal the sanguine scar
Of slain Asar.
I was the Past, Nature the Mother.
He was the Present, Man my brother.
Look to the Future, the Child -oh paean
The Child that is crowned in the Lion-Aeon!
The sea-dawns surge an billow and break
Beneath the scourge of the Star and the Snake.
To my lord I have borne in my womb deep-vaulted
This babe for ever exalted.
2.2k
1247
To pile like Thunder to its close
Then crumble grand away
While Everything created hid
This—would be Poetry—
Or Love—the two coeval come—
We both and neither prove—
Experience either and consume—
For None see God and live—
2k
1152
Tell as a Marksman—were forgotten
Tell—this Day endures
Ruddy as that coeval Apple
The Tradition bears—
Fresh as Mankind that humble story
Though a statelier Tale
Grown in the Repetition hoary
Scarcely would prevail—
Tell had a son—The ones that knew it
Need not linger here—
Those who did not to Human Nature
Will subscribe a Tear—
Tell would not bare his Head
In Presence
Of the Ducal Hat—
Threatened for that with Death—by Gessler—
Tyranny bethought
Make of his only Boy a Target
That surpasses Death—
Stolid to Love’s supreme entreaty
Not forsook of Faith—
Mercy of the Almighty begging—
Tell his Arrow sent—
God it is said replies in Person
When the cry is meant—
1.4k
A hole for the whole;
Clarion lacuna.
The cheval glass so immaculate, coeval.
You will find yourself when you sever the sound.
But even some trees reach for the ground.
Inadequate, a voluntarily tethered thrall.
Catatonic canvas;
Goblin shark lockjaw.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC
My unbroken chain, mingling heart with heart.
You I cherished, embracing with all my heart and soul,
As though a ****** bride; even as Elm loves vine,
Sharing coeval branches, twined foliage,
Praying for bountiful autumn, rejoicing to be wreathed
In the beloved clusters. Women who lack the moral
Virtues are praised for their gift of beauty;
They have the false esteem, but lack the true.
Your birth was splendid, your aspect pleasing
As I could desire; but greater the dignity
That came from yourself-to cherish one flame.
If I offer the wealth of Babylon, the weight
Of Lydian treasure, the potent riches of Indian
And Arabians; belief would she rather die
In chaste poverty, paying life for reputation,
Armed bands, lightning fire or the hazards
Of mid ocean for her love? I fall through
Liquid air that bear laurels of my dove,
Outstripping the sun in her heated flight,
Beneath Atlas' daughters in mid sky
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 4:24 PM UTC
To live a truer life
I fancy quiet surroundings
To allow me the lull of my inmost thoughts
The sojourney longing has barely begun
For Your company to Keep
I kneel down and plead forward
Mercy on our souls living in a worldly world
Complacent feel when only my breathing I hear
Let's not rejoice in a darken solace
But in a rich, cloaked affection.
I found Peace
Rare contentment in adjoining my tomorrow
Repose I have found.
Do not permit other agonies
Your quiet disrupt
And when strifes erupt
My tomorrow is now much coeval
The sought peaceful living I entreat
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 10:07 PM UTC
her child
cracks
in a lifeboat
egg
after egg, her memory
has
that dream
to which
the hangman
gave
his word
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
while atop the surface of planet Earth humanity
all abustle skittering
to and fro, hither and yon
engaged in self important
activity yielding profits,
sans blood, sweat and tears won
full throttle industrial
manufacturers quaking unstoppably
only intermittently pausing,
where managers standing arms akimbo
asper quizzical looking hue cree ton
megaphone blaring orders to underlings
so "Boss" tweed can line pockets
for his/her daughter and/or son
Head Honcho most aggrieved,
when red ink doth run
undermining the bottom line,
thus farming out labor to distant places
(where wages amount to pennies on the dollar)
locals such as Lake Woebegone, Qum, Timbuktu,
et cetera where pun
gnashing working conditions tantamount
to slave labor,
yet scare other options open
hence able bodied men,
women and children scramble,
despite back breaking grueling physically
exhausting grunt job accepting second to none
with nary any rest for weary
long as workweek includes a mon
day, where bloodied bare hands claw
purported Mother lode with feigned frenzied zest
enterprise bolstered via executive bank ministers
financing lucrative scheme
attended to by majordomo
attired in expensive ves
corporate investment project elicits
quaffing, imbibing, and chugging elixir
produced from heavily guarded recipe
qua electric kool aid acid test
where coeval business men/women rest
assured bonanza forecast upon
former green acres hiding treasured quest
marginally concerned such nettlesome
pillaging, ravaging, torturing ranks
wealth driven vanity as deleterious pest
shortsighted exploitation money making embarkation
glorified as investment nsync to feather nest
retirement funds despite leaving the environment messed
up, whereby future generations saddled with
poorly bandaging gentrifying, resuscitating
gaping wounds upon Gaia at best
shortening quality of life
for all (poetry) Earthlings aye attest.
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 1:36 PM UTC
“This scorched land has a proteus yet correlate intimacy,
Could it have been I was once before thee in the aft?
Maybe when I was on the abscond of tortuous criterion,
In search of something imminent that is decisive coeval,
Scurry beams of spirit would be like a noxious gallimaufry,
Oh vault of slags bitterness where feathered creatures ****
Remote land that is before me in lieu of the love I have lost,
The quietude air whisks flower chorale refrains of melancholy,
I am a lost pioneer on an unending expedition for melioration,
Deep blue brine in the vastly distance awaits an archipelago,
To not have her in my arms would be like a blade of dread,
As the fiery sun blazes brightly with a sky of blue as am I,
I can only say at the endow of this journey I hope for her,
Scorching this barren land is nihility compared to her loss,
It is her love that keeps me live as I thrive forward,
As eventide arrives frigid cold that was aft scorched land,
As I ponder exordium with the thought of oppressed feelings,
Yearning as my love has befallen with my present anguish,
For I now am that oppressed suitor on Scorched Lands”
By Andrew Guzaldo © 11/07/2019 #172
Nov 23, 2019
Nov 23, 2019 at 3:10 PM UTC