"fragant" poems
Birthed from perfect unknown void,
Crescendos of unific silence
And a ****** ear reflecting,
A Gift between Two Brothers discontent
Interweaves them now and evermore
In fraternal ******* to a nondual realm.
A lightning seed of thought between two darks,
One light enough to fade the cosmic frown,
To be reborn in strife eternal,
And set the Cycle hastening to a Muse.
His flickering strands dehiscing essence,
The perfect fracture in a faultless whole,
It brings to bear the Change supernal:
The Triple Sequence timely folding,
Unfolds the Rhapsody of Seasons:
Wind, Sea and Earth alighting
Origins of Fire churning dim:
Clear rippling of finality forgotten,
New pressing through into existence,
Her gaze a creature to its own illumination
Renewed, with steaming boundaries... ragged breath:
Living sparks to contemplate the Stars,
And Satyr forward lustful genesis.
The hidden sun plays throughout the wood
A fragant melody of Light held fast,
Of Shadow pregnant and yearning
Bursting forth in spray of life subdued,
Laid low by Rhythmic pulse
And Timeless sea of tempoed mystery.
The hoard takes form, enraged--
A battle-morning's thralling mist of
Early spirits condensate to cling...
That vast blank anticenter dares to mock
With bated fragile brandishings, the
Violent frame of peace-horizons
Stepping out of step, Undeath whining
For a loss of Truth continual. Yet
Hope is wheeling her neoteric self
Upon that sovereign evanescence
Web-like spinning still, a prior sense,
A transfinite faultline of life yet unborn,
Of death still unwrought and wrought again
In hues of growth, and dreams of change,
Waiting silently for Books of Song.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 3:11 PM UTC
The worst part is not knowing i'm about to drown.
The worst part is about how I drown.
No matter how far inland I travel,
there will always be sand between my toes,
silt under my finger nails,
and water in my lungs.
I wait patiently for the moon to bring the next tide.
Marking off the days until it comes to collect me.
And there is no point telling the moon,
"Sir I thank you all the same but, not today.."
And no matter the meadow I walk in,
I still breathe in the salty sea air
and it tires me so.
Picking the daisies.
Pulling off petals.
Today? not today? today? not today? today..
And you have to say goodbye each and every time.
How I wish I could stay.
Holding onto my hand.
You can only but watch
while I gasp for breath.
Panic fills my eyes as I lay among the flowers.
With the sky so pretty and so blue.
But I know how cold it is down there,
as the sea drags me deep.
Down I sink,
into it's murky depths.
Fathoms deep.
And I know that drowning
is the last thing I need to be worried about.
It's not what you die from,
it's how you die.
Drowning is nothing,
nothing compared to how I will die today.
And when all the air is gone.
And my lungs are full of brine.
And the fear of dieing is now.
The silence will begin.
There is a vast nothing.
Nothing to hear,
and nothing to see.
Nothing to feel,
and the sky is no more.
And when my skin is water logged
and grey,
the tide will turn.
I open my eyes to see the silver reflections,
like mirrored shards in the sea's sky.
I can see the watercolour sky through the sky
and it is a most beautiful blue.
It is as if you had painted it just for me.
Just so I could find my way back home.
And maybe today there will be a sun.
And tonight there might be clouds.
And later,
when I am finally asleep,
there will be all of the stars.
And I will know that this time,
maybe this time, I will have lived again.
And my skin will be warmed by the sunshine.
And I will lay in the fragant meadow grass,
listening to your voice,
softly saying my name.
And I must count all of my fingers,
and I must count all of my toes.
Just to make sure
that all of me came back home.
Before the tide comes in.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 1:07 PM UTC
I send you my heart, in the words of this poem
please catch my dreams, in the starry sky
they are straight from my heart,
did you see the moon crying out our names
knowing our desires from afar
hanging from our sleeves
do you see Venus calling our souls
oh Dear Darling, what my heart did to me
when you had to leave...
Did my heart mention that I was foolish and cried
I was mistaking you for a star... I do not know why
except in my eyes you shine so brightly, I worship
you from afar...
My mind was clouded my eyes could not focus clear
for they had the tides of Neptune so concentrated
within a tear...
You see my darling, my love is true, since I met you
I fell in love that very night, when you said hello...
I want you with all our unbridled desires
in my innocence you once said, that arrives
with the springtime and just like our forbidden fruit
please become my final meal....
I try and compose melodies in those red creases of our hearts
as I remain inspired while I awake your awakening
even my skin lusts for your explicit touch...
As murmurs of combined passion become tidal waves
our souls are the split between the framework and doors
and I wonder unescorted through our Fragant Gardens of life....
My Darling, I send you this letter tucked inside my heart
I love you dearly I hope you see~
_____________________________________________________
Dearest, I answer your words
Your heart is dreaming a beautiful dream
With moon and the stars in your eyes
Your mind is filled with ecstasy
You are a woman in love - no alibi's ~
In the garden among the blossoms
You make the flowers blush .
In the bedroom you exhibit innocence
Until as a woman you experience the ultimate rush.
Lust is a powerful force
Awakening the beast with two backs
Sometimes giving you the courage
The other woman in you lacks -
Today a letter came from your world
Words of love shining like wet ink on the page
You wow all of my senses
Graceful - like a star on my stage ~
Your Love~
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
the currency of
grieving is in....
casseroles and soups,
left with notes,
on the back doorstep
flowers, bright, beautiful
and fragant,
delivered by gangling, teenage boys.
awkard silences and cups
of lukewarm tea.
mumbled condolences and
too tight hugs
late night rememberances,
after,
far too many drinks
tears, laughter and
in-house jokes...
photos, stories and
space for quiet reflection.
these things are...
the dollars and cents
of grief for a friend
but when all is, said
and done....
i would much prefer
to be penniless,
begging on the street,
with pockets empty
and moths for friends.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
Lying in the cool,flowing, overgrown grass
Bright,blue skies above you
A warm,fragant breeze flows over you,as if,
Someone is pulling the softest silk sheet across your body
Yet never quite touching you
Renewing you,as if you've slumbered for a thousand years
Clouds passing overhead
Imagination showing you figures and shapes,dreams and hopes
You've forgotten the worries of your previous life
To find a new life,now realizing,finally,
What life is meant to be
A lone ray of sunlight passes over you
As if to comfort,as a blanket might warm you on a cool night
You finally leave,a different person
With memories of your perfect day.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
I started from a small seed blown by the wind
Thrives in your rooms
That you should've killed me
Before i grew wild at your place
I'm beautiful behind a thicket
Which bloom of fragant
Because of a touch of tenderness
I hope warmth
And view all of kindness
Cause of your soothing care,
I grew wilder
Forgive me being a wild flower
I'm sorry to be bad sight at your place
Forgive me to be destroyer of your harmony
If you destroy me before i bloom, maybe i'm not going wild,
Cause i'm black behind of grayness
Stand across and see...
Always hope...
No more become tangledess
But become a part of happiness
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 11:58 PM UTC
a rose by the hour
floral shower
florid stain
the waxy lip
(incarnadine)
blooms for the sweet
and fragant touch
of
that young lily
iced and white
with blushed insides
and forbidden
fruit.
there is a timeless tale
within those pearls
within that smile
of youth
pulchritude
purity.
there is a quintessential
romance
beneath that lust
(that noisome desire)
heart beating and breaking
and pulsating and
suffocating
the light from the room
and the gold from the sun
and the bud
from her mother.
dulcet petal
browned
and grotesque
posioned by
romantic unrest
yet
a rose by the hour
floral shower
florid
stain.
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 11:40 PM UTC