"naiad" poems
You are the daughter of the sea, oregano's first cousin.
Swimmer, your body is pure as the water;
cook, your blood is quick as the soil.
Everything you do is full of flowers, rich with the earth.
Your eyes go out toward the water, and the waves rise;
your hands go out to the earth and the seeds swell;
you know the deep essence of water and the earth,
conjoined in you like a formula for clay.
Naiad: cut your body into turquoise pieces,
they will bloom resurrected in the kitchen.
This is how you become everything that lives.
And so at last, you sleep, in the circle of my arms
that push back the shadows so that you can rest--
vegetables, seaweed, herbs: the foam of your dreams.
27.2k
On a plateau
by the seashore
sits a naked goddess,
a dryad or a naiad--
she laments a soft
song of mechanical
love. Bathing in the
quiet night, the
light, the
diamond-bright
stillness. She looks
at me with sad eyes.
On a conch-shell loveboat
together we sail
through snaky canals
of the heart.
Cool, lapping
water drips
from her long
seaweed hair as she
sings for me--
we go beneath
the sea &
look up at
intangible starfish
that mirror
the stars of the
surface.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Tarry, the Heroine's Right Friend-in-Bond
After months of Letters un-comprehend
I should have noticed your Living Response
But my Character has long been pretend
Forgive my English, Naiad of the Plym
Your Side-Family has offered Remorse
I mean no Blood; Just a Puff and a Whim
To show you I am honest in my Course
And yet, these are just Words; And in your Kind
Physics is the Path most will understand
Yet given this Map which I cannot find
I Support you in the Best Way I can.
Once the Flame lights in this Kingdom's Great Hill
I bid my Salute whilst my Feet stand still.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art!
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet’s heart,
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities
How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies,
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing!
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car?
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,
The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
3.7k
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,
The weary, wayworn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
To the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo! in yon brilliant window niche,
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy Land!
3.6k
Maiden crowned with glossy blackness,
Lithe as panther forest-roaming,
Long-armed Naiad when she dances
On a stream of ether floating,
Bright, o bright Fedalma!
Form all curves like softness drifted,
Wave-kissed marble roundly dimpling,
Far-off music slowly wingèd,
Gently rising, gently sinking,
Bright, o bright Fedalma!
Pure as rain-tear on a rose-leaf,
Cloud high born in noonday spotless
Sudden perfect like the dew-bead,
Gem of earth and sky begotten,
Bright, o bright Fedalma!
Beauty has no mortal father,
Holy light her form engendered,
Out of tremor yearning, gladness,
Presage sweet, and joy remembered,
Child of light! Child of light!
Child of light, Fedalma!
3.1k
he's the colour of sunshine
the glitter he hates,
sparkling in his crinkling eyes
his laugh
is the colour of daisies in november,
teasing the troubled naiad into a state
of pure affection
his kiss
I imagine
is the colour of bliss,
like honey dripping from the lips of queens by the nile
his love,
however
is the colour of water
clear
non-existant.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
For the Dragon hissed as the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss as the night subsides,
Python’s bliss as naiad’s cried,
And the wailing woe’s on a weathering tide,
Water-wall from Kētos scream, tsunami crash, swallow everything,
Rolling clouds and the pouring rain and the serpent dying writhing in pain,
And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo kissed away the night time sky,
And the Python’s bliss as his naiad’s cry,
The Sun awoke at the wheel-house berth, armor gold, chest-plate of Earth,
And valiance choked, squeezed by Ladon’s girth,
As the serpent swelled with the stormy seas,
To collapse great hero upon his knees,
Apollo, Cadmus and Hercules.
Reborn by fire, Father-Lion’s roar, returned each night to even-up the score,
And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss ward off night time skies,
Oh the wailing woe of ominous tides,
The scythe or club, boulder at night, rocks from heaven and the perilous fight,
Black-oil venom, heart of a beast, starry night’s runner split from the east,
Noxious breathe, flame-seared teeth, smell of death from a ****** feast,
Speared at the neck, pinning head to earth, then celebrated as a day of birth,
The serpent on his shoulder, or dangling from the tree,
Arising from the waters, from the depths beneath,
Cast out under a mountain, yes underneath, then wear his skin and sow his teeth!
And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss as the fight subsides,
And Python’s bliss as his muses wailed, between the horns where Argo sailed,
Call it a man or Charybdis, Scylla, rock, a multi-headed beast,
Or just two horns with a middle disk and Apollo’s fire, Sun’s dawning kiss,
And the Dragon hissed as the Dragon dies,
And Apollo’s kiss create the day time skies,
And the Python’s bliss at his naiad’s cries,
And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died!
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 12:56 PM UTC
All silent in the months of grace
When frosty blankets fall across the hills
And fields where birds once sang their verse,
But melody of wind is all we know.
These lands to die are not yet dead
Though bee does mourn for blooms and for himself
When beetle joints go stiff with cold --
When funerary twilight season comes
To ***** the days. The final wren
Now senses slipping of the year, and so
Of tenant hill and glen deprived
Set in for sleep. If never to awake --
To never feel a verdant joy
Or exultation of the orb that breathes
Bright life into our skies -- at least
Released from hardships and her sorrows be.
But she has faith, she loves the sun!
The twinkling of his eye will come in May
Or else with April's gown he'll march:
Believing in her lover's rising light
The dream that takes her through the night.
Not far, a sickly naiad's wood
In seasons past so fair of face and leaf,
Yet creeping forest's yellowing
Like fingernails of corpse when skin recedes.
But then blush orange sanguinate:
The lover's sigh ignites when dies the vine,
Their bubbling veins in praise of life
When soonest to be severed by cruel scythe.
This phantom of their fate is grim,
More grim be sure than fate that falls in death:
The slings and arrows of the mind
Are those most potent poisoned, fear them not --
Illusory as winter's chill
That peels off maiden's wedding veil in spring:
A peaceful rest does come to all
Though private troubles drown the trees through fall.
Unthinking sleep does bliss the boughs,
In hibernation lose to learn anew
The sights proved true by waking world
That are the growing season's cause to feel.
When browns the brush and flies the thrush
Unanchored Daphne nods and starts to drift
In sea where beings dream as one.
Soft blizzard quilt on woods in slumber laid,
Demeter's daughter vanished into shade,
With knowledge that she'll never fade.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 2:56 PM UTC
the siren may be said to be
the lady of the sea
naiad are her kin
eyes that entrance all
who see her
a temptress to all
eyes that magnetize
bewitching men since ancient times
blue eyes that match her tail
hair as bright as the sun
to light of day
to dark of night
her siren's song i hear
when the siren sings
by scarlet rose
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
*I zipped her trembling
Cascades of hair—rosewater
Poured into a dress*
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC
On a cloudless sunny day, last week,
I met a man who could not speak.
Yet he wanted to relate something to me,
So with pen and paper I began to see.
He had been walking, in a hidden grove, alongside a stream,
Full of all the beauty, that only nature’s gifts can dream.
He stopped by a fountain, to breathe in the sight,
The river sparkling a thousand diamonds, in the sunlight.
He was resting on a rock, when he heard music begin to play,
And he espied a nymph in the river, who started to dance and sway.
Her blond hair was covered, with morning glory flowers,
And sunlight bounced off her, cascading into showers.
As the naiad danced she splashed the diamonds into the air,
Then dove under the water, as if knowing he was there.
She emerged inside a whirlwind, impetuous with caprice,
Then disappeared upon a cloud, carried by a silken breeze.
The music then stopped playing, and the man was dumbstruck,
He had a vision of such loveliness, he could not believe his luck.
But from that day to this, he could not utter a word,
For the Nymph had stolen his voice, isn’t that absurd?
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 7:08 AM UTC
“I believe I’m gratified to have loved her,
If not where would my heart have been,
My eyes were radiated by this naiad,
Regalia she has given will last ever ageless,
To have been near her held her hand,
Brushed my fingers through her hair,
Listened to her incentive ways she had,
Given to me before she had gone faultily,
Rivers flow as wind carry life’s ballad inlet,
Leading me deep into the paradise I longed for,
Overwhelming protecting me from world afar,
Strong caring is what keeps our souls as one,
It’s an obsession the way we let ardor consume us,
In her eyes I found new visions have been revealed,
As the sea forgets in its furore lading aboard,
No rest from travels it is my libation for memoir,
World of the deep fell into darkness of nets,
I would have liked my naiad by my side,
I imagine that my heart palpitating sadness,
If I were to pique the naiad would it make all well,
I shall never KNOW”
By Andrew Guzaldo 10/07/2018 ©
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
Today I felt it!!!
For one second that forlorness had left me,
The incandesce had made me tepid, as the flowers are in full efflorescence!!!
I was high but for a moment!!!
Sandal's I took off, as this spirit soared free,
1960s, 2015, for what's the difference other than I'm a fossil soul in an adolescent chassis!!!
I saw purple buds,
White silked loves to wrap around the logs once sparked by lightning!!!
Exquisite inviting's!!!!
Thine aisle's I walked were cloaked by air-conditioned Trousseau's, for I wish I hadn't needed clothes,
I'll be amongst between the bush,
Lost in its allurement,
Plagued by its touch!!!
Yet suddenly,
Crashing down upon me....
Came back the whirlwind of lost buoyancy,
No queen in sight,
Nor bride to be!!!
Just thou an me antiquated stock!!!!
Paramount I am to find this naiad of unconventional standards,
Where her luminosity can be mine pattern,
To where these broke in toes,
Can unwind to her nursery!!!!!!!!
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
I trembled zipping her,
Cascades of hair— rosewater,
Poured into a dress.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
I trembled zipping her,
Cascades of hair— rosewater,
Poured into a dress.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC
I wouldn't like to be a naiad
Unless I could swim through dirt
Then when you ceased to breathe,
I'd rest beside your corpse in earth.
I wouldn't like to be a dolly.
My heart filled with needles and pins.
Every time you near me,
They always sink further in.
I wouldn't like to be a shadow.
Unless I was cast in your light.
So that I may be with you,
Even in the darkest night.
I wouldn't mind being a kiss.
I don't quite make the cut.
How can two lips join,
If one set is sewn shut?
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
two terrible beauties
Daphne and Phoebe
whose hearts are my heart
they whom I would die for
and there's not much left for me
or anybody else
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
I trembled zipping her,
Cascades of hair— rosewater,
Poured into a dress.
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 11:04 PM UTC
“With what stillness at last you appear in the valley,
Join your divine sounds filling the empty vessels of night,
As pillages silently alight upon the shrine you behold,
First sunlight reaches down to touch the tips of pedals,
Her eminent auspicious arm band lusters dulcet canticles,
Sublime reaches things with aptitude able to shrill aft,
Dwells of brilliant wires laurels hymns devout in tune,
May we soon again renew that song singing endlessly?
Abaft her green eyes omens mayhap as emissary divine,
The bewildered by visions apparitions beside a hidden perch,
It seems that the resonance of a dove calls from far away,
Placid content sung before the colored cathedra naiad,
Fronds not ado had not noticed the presence of a naiad,
I know not where this solemn revelry odyssey would end,
My conscious mind we have much to discuss young naiad,
I abiding with heath musing carried by the scent afore me,
Inexorable time that passes quickly as time has stride away,
Sing endless morn of light with the naiad piqued at my soul,
Steadfast heart draws me out of labyrinth and takes Naiad hand”
By Andrew Guzaldo 1/04/2019 ©
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 7:11 PM UTC
For the lady who sees it all, Mahkhon
Scribes gather –
Words tucked between
Laughter and Memories, hidden
For them to find and tell.
A river fairy she is,
Papyrus reeds, her wings.
A naiad, watching bubbles,
Reading hearts, --
Precious bubbles, a keeper
In four years.
Seven Years past,
The fairy is a Woman, Who
Bears keen eyes with ken.
Imagine her delight,
For each bubble pricked,
Truth, love, stories unwrapped.
A seer uncurls the scrolls,
An oracle whispered to gentle Wind:
A dandelion she is
Made for the skies,
Lift her up ---
But kindly change her not.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
5/6/2016
The doctors- they told me, said I was sick. But I told them you were sicker. That it your illness- it's too much. I tap on the wallpaper and hope you understand where i'm coming from. I adjust the tin bars that won't move on the window plates. I wanted to thank you for coming over to visit me firstly. Secondly- I want you back. I guess directness isn't the best way to someone's heart or maybe it is. I don't know why we parted. You, you are so sick- a sick little girl, you need a nurse or perhaps some care. I never realized this- I only did now and now i'm locked in this hospital, i've caught it myself. I'm as good as dead now. I am sorry for being such an important part of your life- maybe if I wasn't, it wouldn't hurt to see me like this. Maybe if i wasn't i would stop disturbing you- leave you alone. But i need you back- I don't know why we left eachother.
-and why?
Why not? You don't remember all the good parts of us? Do you remember how the Blackgum trees in the park smelled like after a good rain while we walked through them and tried to get a good bench by the reservoir, you know, the one that always smelled like pondweed? I'd told you about how they're called Naiad weeds. I told you what Naiads were. You remind me of one, all pink faced and watery. You were always sort of ephemeral and wavering like water.
-why are you telling me this?
Because it's you. You're wavering jumping pondwater and you're the kittens that old woman who lived near you kept. We used to feed the ones that wandered near your terrace. I thought they smelled bad, but you said to not say that because it would hurt their feelings.
...
No- please don't touch me.
...
It's as if a corpse touches me when you reachout that hand.
...
Don't touch me! with your fetid finger, your moribund edge. You make me want to cry, you make me want you back with me- mostly you confuse me. How could you have so much respect for life? It was my favorite thing about you. You should've been a ****** Aryika. somewhere, in India. How could you care so much about a life, from a person's to a cat's feelings and even to a little mite's? How could we have sat and listened to Chopin's Mazurkas during that one big hurricane with my old battery powered radio, and how could you have made me cake when everyone forgot my birthday? How could you? How dare you. How could you have so much respect for every life except your own?
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
"Odoriferous fresh gardenia flowers fragrance was she,
Her beauty will be cultivated forever amongst and beyond,
How does one know if it is love it is more than just a word?
It is a feeling soul bound that fervor’s beneath the skin,
So how do I know it is love if it isn't as the words are procured?
A sense of rising tide a rapid undulant river of a woman,
One cannot be a troglodyte in life when love arrives,
My love has arrived I have felt all the above and much more,
Sheer thoughts of her sends a billow enliven rapture within,
A rush with consternation render’s fervent fracas of piquancy,
I have heeded in life these depictions of the fluttering gusto,
As long as I live this tectonic emotion of this naiad will remain,
Restraints of the days is this prologue to exodus to enclaves,
I turned my back on the capricious sea the euphoria and somber,
Where with a strain and a ****** on the banks of islet sands,
Beauteous day slips in night as the sailing foam drifts afar,
Although I am where I am I will never be perniciously charmed,
Stars will burn for all time as I lament in demanding sadness,
Cursing as a cavalier of false hopes with untethered regret,
For I am not a troglodyte of ages but just an aesthete in love,
Beauty is Culture!”
By Andrew Guzaldo 03/02/2019 ©
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 7:29 PM UTC
In country far away from thee,
There was a man who's mind explored carefree.
He used to sit alone in seashore's darkness,
And think about constraints and harshness.
On other side of land - she lived in deepest woods.
No trail, no true man's foot there ever stood.
She weaved her thoughts into a Persian rug,
And bathed at night in deepest waters with Naiad.
No match for them, no equal pair.
They were too busy running their warfare.
A jarring battle in a state of peace,
A conscious choice, not a decease.
With birds she flew above the sea one day,
With seagulls, cormorants and osprey.
He saw a glimpse of someone's hair,
But yet, he deepen in despair.
She saw a man, who looked demean.
And to fly closer was she keen.
On rock, behind the tree -
Her wings were rested with a key.
Man saw her once, the statue's silhouette,
And traits of trust he suddenly beget.
No words, no sounds was spilled in silence,
Their foreheads slightly touched - compliance.
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC