Hidden, oh hidden
in the high fog
the house we live in,
beneath the magnetic rock,
rain-, rainbow-ridden,
where blood-black
bromelias, lichens,
owls, and the lint
of the waterfalls cling,
familiar, unbidden.

In a dim age
of water
the brook sings loud
from a rib cage
of giant fern; vapor
climbs up the thick growth
effortlessly, turns back,
holding them both,
house and rock,
in a private cloud.

At night, on the roof,
blind drops crawl
and the ordinary brown
owl gives us proof
he can count:
five times--always five--
he stamps and takes off
after the fat frogs that,
shrilling for love,
clamber and mount.

House, open house
to the white dew
and the milk-white sunrise
kind to the eyes,
to membership
of silver fish, mouse,
bookworms,
big moths; with a wall
for the mildew's
ignorant map;

darkened and tarnished
by the warm touch
of the warm breath,
maculate, cherished;
rejoice! For a later
era will differ.
(O difference that kills
or intimidates, much
of all our small shadowy
life!) Without water

the great rock will stare
unmagnetized, bare,
no longer wearing
rainbows or rain,
the forgiving air
and the high fog gone;
the owls will move on
and the several
waterfalls shrivel
in the steady sun.

Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees
Letting his arms hang down to laugh,
The zebra stripes along his jaw
Swelling to maculate giraffe.

The circles of the stormy moon
Slide westward toward the River Plate,
Death and the Raven drift above
And Sweeney guards the hornèd gate.

Gloomy Orion and the Dog
Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas;
The person in the Spanish cape
Tries to sit on Sweeney’s knees

Slips and pulls the table cloth
Overturns a coffee-cup,
Reorganised upon the floor
She yawns and draws a stocking up;

The silent man in mocha brown
Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes;
The waiter brings in oranges
Bananas figs and hothouse grapes;

The silent vertebrate in brown
Contracts and concentrates, withdraws;
Rachel née Rabinovitch
Tears at the grapes with murderous paws;

She and the lady in the cape
Are suspect, thought to be in league;
Therefore the man with heavy eyes
Declines the gambit, shows fatigue,

Leaves the room and reappears
Outside the window, leaning in,
Branches of wistaria
Circumscribe a golden grin;

The host with someone indistinct
Converses at the door apart,
The nightingales are singing near
The Convent of the Sacred Heart,

And sang within the ****** wood
When Agamemnon cried aloud,
And let their liquid siftings fall
To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud.

The dusty speech
Emitted from chalky mouths
Clouds the custard air
With much deceit.
Again told too many lies,
Misting any direction
That once was known.
Force fed another drought,
It is easier to give in:
It devours from the inside out.

Noise:
The constant drip dropping--
Pressure building up from inside
And choking. Lungs fill with it.
A deluge, it could be called.

But there is no more breath to speak the words.

There's no denying, I would be lying, if I said I wasn't in love
It just goes to show that you never know what happens when push comes to shove.
There's no true answer, hate spreads like cancer; I won't say that I think it's right
But nothing will last and some things end fast and love dies like switching a light.

There's no denying, I wasn't trying, I don't think that I'd call it fair
That awful sunrise you tore out my eyes — you taught me what it meant to care.
Thought you'd drained me dry, I couldn't say why; saw myself as only a void
I felt them that dawn, and then they were gone, love's remnants you'd finally destroyed.

There's no denying, spent some time crying, once I learned it truly was dead
I know you wept too, I felt it anew: within me compassion had fled.
Yes I could have tried before our love died with some hope of finding a cure
It's almost a crime, and yet by that time our motives were no longer pure.

There's no denying, I would be lying, if I said I wasn't to blame
I am still haunted by what you wanted, but my life is only a game.
I was part wild, part little child; my love was so grounded in trust
You drifted away, then finally one day you crumbled my pride into dust.

There's no denying, I wasn't trying, my apathy guided me through
My myriad fears throughout all our years had taken a back seat to you.
So what a surprise fell from those blue skies, put to death my ignorant dream —
Like some insane hoax, the cruelest of jokes, and rooted in low self-esteem.

There's no denying and no defying your base urges and your senses
I gave you a ring, asked only one thing, and lowered all my defenses.
Like some lovesick dog, I walked in a fog; in your heart no light of love shone.
Now hurt and afraid, I've gravely repaid the wages of being alone.

There's no denying, I wasn't spying, I was in no way suspicious
I couldn't conceive, in no way believe you could ever be that vicious.
Perhaps in your heart, that cold twisted part, those urges were too long denied
There's nothing to say, no point anyway — I feel cold and empty inside.

There's no denying, we are all dying, we move toward our graves with each breath
We go with a debt of pain and regret to the court that we know as death.
I gave you your space, let you set the pace; me alone in our double bed
You wanted it all, the rise and the fall; now your hands are maculate red.

There's no denying, I think of dying, more than I consider my life
Taunted and hunted, every part stunted, I'm no man to take on a wife.
At least I was torn before I was born; a bad jar, but quite a fine start —
Twisted and scarred and calloused and hardened for further assaults on my heart.

Maculate Cheddar Moon nights o'er Aquarian countryside
Hinterland for young lovers , pathways for romance rediscovered
Shangri-La midnight glen , flaxen mane , astral beacons of
Smoke blue in concerto with Flame red
A reflection on a chosen star at curiosities unlatched gate
Traipsing rain washed , cool clover with strawberry tressed , porcelain 'Inamorata'
Ebony hour capitulation and seduction* ...

Smoke clouds smoulder the putrid sky,
capricious crowds rush hastily by.
Bricks and mortar for maculate miles,
the hustle and bustle; backwards smiles.
Eyes tamed vacant, tapered down;
a tracksuit warrior, wearing the town.
The city exhales, erupting with life;
it’s very beauty: boisterously wild.

dense with stories
written on diaphanous pages
tales of love and dishonor
battles and travelers
torturers and healers
killers
mystical
mysterious
maculate
biblical
-read

fluid with melody
written in grace notes
and notes of grace
on staves like wires on poles
wrenching
beatific
dramatic
sensual
spiritual
-heard

movin­g with color
created in visions
brushed with the fire of gods
dull
plain
painful
exquisite
delicate
beauteous
-seen

touch­ed by angelic hands
formed of the earth
tempered in water
molten
chipped
hammered and carved
to perfection
spatial
dynamic
rounded
softened
crystalline
-containe­d

-felt


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater

Mindfulness is a crucial thing
It allows us to be different
From romantic and unfeeling
If you feel my verses incorporate spirituality
Your idea of love is beautiful, then your mind shines brighter than the stars
And my fingers have burnt trying to count them out among women
Holiness is a beautiful thing
It is different
From being human or Godly
Such is the primal nature
When we may seek pleasures unknown
Or don't seek them at all
I do not judge such a maculate jaguar such if asked
Your skin has far more fairness than compare
If the darkest skies had your eyes in their corpus
The moon would look for the clouds like a weary wanderer
Such is your light, which unconditional makes others envious
I a being love your every part that hopes you shine on my stride
As I step out of the seas beyond comparison
Why do I compare when I'm glad to be alive
It's because you never ask me what could be wrong in being amorous