"succouring" poems
Love blossomed in the darkest night
Morn's gilding beams to spite
Night Primrose preened by tender blight
As Sphinx Moth, soft tips caress; sugary nectar slight
Perfumed aroma doth prating, intoxicated courtier incite
Glazed petals with dewy fans stream delight
Golden cup a succouring armchair from which passions alight
Delicate, cream veil eclipses pallid, stolid moonlight
With availing breeze your dreamy parasol on Cupid's wing takes flight
Aug 10, 2011
Aug 10, 2011 at 6:23 PM UTC
Sunlight filters through the branches
As warm air following the cold
Hisses at the leaves
And mingles with the half-heard voice
Of a not-too-distant neighbor.
An occasional bird-call
Keeps time with a squirrel’s jerky progress;
A dog sighs and briefly imitates the trees.
And slowly in this tranquillity
Comes a sense of recovery
Last night’s excesses, felt viscerally
These past several hours, turn
To a contented glow in the afternoon sun.
Inner trembling starts to feel
Controlled. And less visible.
Breathing deeply, tasting at last
The warm freshness of the clean air
As it permeates, so softly, the tortured frame,
The gutted pores, the brutalised organs
Of this body.
Time now, too, for the mind, busily
Analyzing complaints for all this while,
To feel some ease
No more pumping
Frantic aid to disturbed ampullae;
No longer succouring the fevered nerves
Or fighting for a woolly lobe’s attention.
Now comes that ease and relaxation,
Long fought for and hard won.
Now the battle is over and with minimal casualties,
Now reason takes over and forward progress
Can be seen clearly in the mind’s eye.
Now once again the saliva flows sweetly
To the abused palate.
Now the rasping throat is
Pacified.
And one succumbs to that sense of
Pastoral anticipation
As the brain
And the spleen
And the bile
And the liver
And, inter alia, the noble ascending colon
All agree
Now is the time
Now the blessed moment
Now
We can begin again.
Set ‘em up.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 6:24 PM UTC
The plenipotentiary Three Sisters
Urbanities upwelling fate
Never ending, still beginning
Never done but ever ongoing
Like the Web of Penelope;
Succouring the leftmost invulnerable
Vanguardist, Seirizzim, hermeneutically
Succinct sowing the longitudinal
Herald wind of talaria auguring
Newly the rogatory long finger
Of cephalomancy reaping
Harmatiology's whirlwind-
Word for word and letter for letter.
ELEETE J MUIR
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 8:21 PM UTC