"promontories" poems
Can I explain this to you? Your eyes
are entrances the mouths of caves
I issue from wonderful interiors
upon a blessed sea and a fine day,
from inside these caves I look and dream.
Your hair explicable as a waterfall
in some black liquid cooled by legend
fell across my thought in a moment
became a garment I am naked without
lines drawn across through morning and evening.
And in your body each minute I died
moving your thigh could disinter me
from a grave in a distant city:
your ******* deserted by cloth, clothed in twilight
filled me with tears, sweet cups of flesh.
Yes, to touch two fingers made us worlds
stars, waters, promontories, chaos
swooning in elements without form or time
come down through long seas among sea marvels
embracing like survivors in our islands.
This I think happened to us together
though now no shadow of it flickers in your hands
your eyes look down on ordinary streets
If I talk to you I might be a bird
with a message, a dead man, a photograph.
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I
LEAGUERED in fire
The wild black promontories of the coast extend
Their savage silhouettes;
The sun in universal carnage sets,
And, halting higher,
The motionless storm-clouds mass their sullen threats,
Like an advancing mob in sword-points penned,
That, balked, yet stands at bay.
Mid-zenith hangs the fascinated day
In wind-lustrated hollows crystalline,
A wan valkyrie whose wide pinions shine
Across the ensanguined ruins of the fray,
And in her lifted hand swings high o'erhead,
Above the waste of war,
The silver torch-light of the evening star
Wherewith to search the faces of the dead.
II
Lagooned in gold,
Seem not those jetty promontories rather
The outposts of some ancient land forlorn,
Uncomforted of morn,
Where old oblivions gather,
The melancholy, unconsoling fold
Of all things that go utterly to death
And mix no more, no more
With life's perpetually awakening breath?
Shall Time not ferry me to such a shore,
Over such sailless seas,
To walk with hope's slain importunities
In miserable marriage? Nay, shall not
All things be there forgot,
Save the sea's golden barrier and the black
Closecrouching promontories?
Dead to all shames, forgotten of all glories,
Shall I not wander there, a shadow's shade,
A spectre self-destroyed,
So purged of all remembrance and ****** back
Into the primal void,
That should we on that shore phantasmal meet
I should not know the coming of your feet?
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i should never have trusted anyone with the shade
when every dandelion demands the sun
but if i held you under my chin like a buttercup
would you be reflected in my neck?
you're already apparent there in bruising hydrangeas
and in gasping baby's breath that thrive below promontories
and the marigolds in my irises
that burst into bloom
to trade a little life for a little death.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
Across lands of verdure and light, water and men,
Walked a young Lowyatar, and fear she induced,
Turned clouded and opaque, the arid sky,
As she blindly and slowly walked on and on and on- by and by,
Blackened promontories rose in seas around,
To the north, the west, the east and the south,
What her dry fingers touched deprived of life itself.
Blind daughter of death; blind daughter of Tuoni,
Sister in blood of Lemminkäinen's killer, sister of Tuoen Poika.
Unloved and untouched, Lowyatar weeped and searched,
Abandoned by her death-bringing family.
From cracked and dried and distraught lips she cried,
"Ukko, O Ukko, save me from myself, I beg of thee,
With what's left of my life, my passion, my love
I know only pain I know only death, I see nothing.
O Ukko, I wander hither and thither, northward and westward
O Ukko, I wander thither and hither, southward and eastward
Searching for acceptance and vivid color and life.
O Ukko, save me from myself and my name!"
Lonely is the young girl, priestess of plague, goddess of famine,
Alone for life, her eyes blurred with salt and water,
A twitch in a corner of her mouth, another twitch.
Love thyself, and thyself can achieve greatness,
Greatness through experience, through knowledge prior.
Yellowed and ground teeth emerge behind cracked lips,
Lowyatar, goddess of plague, whispers to Ukko,
"Ukko O Ukko, I have motive and purpose,"
An old oak tree withered and turned grey at her fingertips,
Towns, once merry and full of love, died as she passed them by.
Wars waged on, fighting for what's left of love and light,
Death of brothers and fathers, feeding the mighty Tursas,
Born again from the scent of blood on the dry ground,
Who rose from the dying sea to feed upon the victims war.
Across lands bereft of verdure, dead and broken,
Men and women and children sobbed in Lowyatar's wake,
Men and women and children bowed in Lowyatar's presence.
Lowyatar stood triumphant over dying lands,
Once a sobbing child, now queen of the earth,
Pale face hidden by black and matted hair,
She opened her eyes to see the world for the first time,
Across her face twitched a smile, then with a laugh she says:
"So created. So destroyed. Behold, god I am!"
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
the road gathers itself like a drained old woman,
hunched over rags, beneath the gloomy crag,
sintering as it nears the beach,
worn out through time, impoverished
it has become reflective in the chittering half-light.
Eviscerated by the pawing waves,
contradictory cracks like entrails, hanging out
crushed into solitude , it redefines its continuous retreat.
In the reductive shade
it circumvents the cove, its tarmac withered,
a battered host to foreign weeds.
Sunrise chides the posturing sky, the sulking universal remnants
vanishing in the fenestrated glare. In the near distance, air unravels,
the moving storm exhaling slips of cloud
rapidly swarming like furious flecks of phlegm-sneezed out in perpetuity
between heat and cold.
The road lies entombed beneath a scree, tumbledown stones and dust.
Ramblers and cars have sought and found
an alternative route. The moistened rubble creaks
as liquid gathers in its shifting heart, crawling out in rivulets-the rain
descending like spit,
emolliating the countryside, shifting dollops of fetid mud,
enveloping like a furious aneurysm.
Sea and land entrenched in conflict,
a war of attrition always won by seas, unleashing energy
of mindful apocalypse in the manner of a gentle sigh.
The gaping abscess of scarred promontories tottering
like feverish drunks. The mouthed obscenities of carnivorous
birds radiates throughout the cove pinpointing local
drownings encrusted with salt. Sea upon sea impose themselves
enviously on rampant shorelines feasting on sand and rock. Never ending!
Plunging ever forward like a barren plough, receding, only to
re-site its casual fury-implosion upon explosion.
The road in its sullen retreat
stumbles through narrow valleys speckled
with gloom; trees with yellow flowers
blooming in crinkled shadows,
deer leaping through high-standing grass, mincing
between tall thin trees. Loping down
into the cities, it becomes a tousled high street full
of immigrants, all yearning for the sea.
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC
I’ve entered the Inner Passage
Thought of as the safe route to Alaska
Protected by friendly coves and sheltered bays
Shields voyagers from the uncertainties
Of the tectonics of a heaving Pacific
The Inner Passage
A compass point of
Jack London’s imagination
Spinning fantastic adventure yarns
of audacious Sea Wolf sailors
And rugged fortune seekers
Answering the call of the wild
The Inner Passage
Fraught with hidden shoals
And submerged rocky promontories
Lay just below the water line
Jutting on the steep banks
Of a glaciated mountain lined sea
The Inner Passage
Precludes an easy escape
To the boundless freedom
Of the open seas
One cannot sail away
One must firmly
grab the wheel
Guide the rudder
map the terra firma
Of a misconstructed life
The hazards and mishaps
Buried in the unconscious sands of the mind
interred to protect the heart
From the walking ghosts
Springing to life
Emboldening
The daily aches of living
The Inner Passage
Seemingly the safe route
Yet the hidden shoals
The ship wrecks
crews of stranded castaways
Call out for recovery, resurrection,
Watchfulness and recognition
Careful navigation is required
To salvage the wreckage
Rescue the unfortunate victims
Of the disasters and gales
I engendered along
my life's journey
The Inner Passage
A promise of rebirth
Reconstitution, recovery
“Can a man enter the womb again?”
The Gospel writer asks.
This inner passage may yet
Deliver me to a reinvigorated life
Let me uncover
What lies deep
In my tell tale heart
Let me tame
the mighty beasts of the sea
That rule the fathomless waters
Of my tumultuous emotions
May Thy Will and a better course
Heal my restive soul
My I finally free
my grounded vessel
From the false sanctuary
Offered by shallow shoals
Freeing me to dive deep
Into the hidden reefs
Of my heart and mind
May this pilgrim make good progress
May I accept life on life's terms
May I practice a well considered
engaged stewardship
May I never arrive at a staid place
And become wholesomely satisfied
with a serene state of being
The Inner Passage
Indeed a difficult voyage
Is underway
a new course mapped
I will pass through
The dark ranges where the
Commanding heights of
Fear, anger, resent and regret
Become nothing more
Then the precipitous peaks
Of a harmless silhouette
Fading away into the mist
Of yesterday's twilight
The Inner Passage
Aboard the Kennicott
Near Ketchikan, AK
8.22.19
jbm
Michael Nyman
The Piano
Aug 22, 2023
Aug 22, 2023 at 4:50 PM UTC
Autumn Moon
Autumn moon hung over in fire over the hill's
the wild black promontories of the coast extend
as fare as the eyes could see,
I need a place on the sea away from us away and
away from what we could be.
one winter afternoon sunlight that gilds the cobbled
streets of Montreal ,
I saw a small village outside Paris ,
beyond the light beyond the sun That is where my heart
hung over you ,
under sheets of scarlet satin
away from vows and other sins my heart gave in
above the confusion and the fuss of both of us ,
beyond the push beyond the rush my heart felt it was
going to bust with all the love you gave ,
the curve of the narrow street , reflected back at you and me,
there's a place for love and light
a peaceful time, no wrong no right ,
run me and never let go
let's run in the streets of Paris until
we get old ,
the shop window at left ,
still follows the old line of the country
lane that we once played .
there's a place for love and light for the both of us,
where understanding takes flight;
the cars line the street lights of Montreal feels so right,
with faith as sweet as scent
there is time for us yet.
Poetic Judy Emery © 1997
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
The sun and moon rise together
The morning's herald crows and claps his wings
He would have you know
that goats climb the cliffs of rock and promontories
even when they are as wet as fresh dug graves
He would tell you that the weak and worn of heart
Cannot abide long the ire of north-winds
And blow like leaves before her wreak
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 7:28 AM UTC
Space!
Not wanting to live in anyone's pocket.
Conjurer provided promise of better days to come.
In discrete indulgences
No promontories of feeling.
Drowning in the sea.
My sea is full to brim of dreams.
Overflowing fast.
So wanting to get in.
Battering doors down.
Desperate to get in
Laying down and screaming.
Kicking at the dust.
The kerb-stones blow up in my face
Screaming of insincerity.
Hell I'm no disgrace.
I don't want you to go said he.
Me neither I said.
My phony smile in place.
Both knew it had to be.
Wanted him.
He wanted me too.
Far to much to ****** bear.
This bear's grizzly.
Keeps sobbing like a baby girl.
****** silly cow!
When you find one for whom so much you care.
Two of a kind.
For definite.
Unending delight.
Infinite love in darkness of night!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 8:08 AM UTC
Who can tell the difference
between gallantry and deceit;
that is clear only to
the querying breeze?
Who could not smell
the pungent heavy cloud
before the pulling of
the petulant wind?
Further, afar off, no one inquires
about foreseen mornings unseen
dreams once winged zephyrs
echo in forgotten hallways.
Perched high on rock faces grim
beneath the humming of the bird,
awash on porous promontories -
failure now permeates the abject soul.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 3:30 AM UTC
I face you
Arms wide
And soak myself
In the energy
Of your sharp horizons
Drawn 'twixt Pembroke's sheer promontories
Rushing waves
Birth endless sounds
Of promise
Element
You penetrate me
To the core
Stirring reminiscences of childhood
In my breast
I turn
Only to turn
Once more
And drown myself
In your sea sounds
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC
my body moves from point to point
- endless paths and promontories -
swimming cross-current
at the edge of a great fall.
consciousness lays wait below:
a sense of self;
awareness larger than itself,
older than my life.
traversing growing spheres from time to time
- moments made by difference -
racing at standstill
down a vast and shattered pane.
decisions marked in lines:
a shift in form.
evolving minds beyond our space
(a)part (from/of) all that is.
Aug 19, 2024
Aug 19, 2024 at 9:19 PM UTC
what seduced me into
writing is the veiled figure
of the dark that lifts
its hazy image through
the blinds of this acerbic life.
i annul the language of god,
the normality of men
and the sage of old.
let me pour water into this
pale jar, and in it,
high with hope, shall rise
a cornucopia of scriptures.
an inner sense of life
and a depraved longing
for felicities,
these words test their capacities
and sprint to the length
of no return.
i am no man's island
nor a flame's hearth.
these promontories remain dearth
yet unafraid of fleeting.
if i go unread,
if i am to be forgotten,
these shall all remain
and only eyes ready
to seek seamless lights
shall turn the pages
and start reading.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 5:54 AM UTC
'
*Who can tell the difference
between gallantry and deceit;
that is clear only to
the querying breeze?
Who could not smell
the pungent heavy cloud
before the pulling of
the petulant wind?
Further, afar off, no one inquires
about foreseen mornings unseen
dreams once winged zephyrs
echo in forgotten hallways.
Perched high on rock faces grim
beneath the humming of the bird,
awash on porous promontories -
failure now permeates the abject soul.*
____ ____ ____ ✒
○●
°
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 5:23 PM UTC
Movement of earth
Skies above
A flash of light
But a dream
Winged creatures
Leafy promontories
Well trodden pathways
But a dream
Shroud of mist
Unknown futures
Exciting to ponder
But a dream
Familiar to unfamiliar
The song of an infant
Grey brown warriors emerging
But a dream
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC