WHAT LOOK IS THIS I SEE UPON MY LOVE’S?
What look is this I see upon my love’s?
What change is this in her sweet demeanor?
Before, her gaze was like a cooing dove’s
Bestowed upon faithful I who serve her.
What is this steely glint now in her eyes?
A touch of winter chill one frosty morn
That without mercy wilts the fleur de lyes.
Before, her fleeting glance was warm and soft –
My blissful days now sullen and forlorn.
Her gracious love, once mine, is held aloft.
So unexpected was this sudden change.
When will this blackest night turn back to day?
If only I her heart could re-arrange,
For without her love, I have lost my way.
From dark chaos and deep turmoil,
Word by word spoken into being,
Fertile seeds planted in rich soil,
Bursting into sun-lit meaning.
Carved out from the dark, hidden depths,
Incarnate words – living flesh,
Each one imbued with living breath,
Sweet sounds the ear gently caress.
Dawn’s first beams breaking o’er the night
Reveal what in the dark had formed.
Harmonious in sound and sight,
All creation – the perfect poem.
Posted in Poetry
ORPHEUS & EURYDICE
Gifted by the nine Muses’ fire,
Bestowed with a seven-string lyre
To sing all day with words that charm,
The wild beasts could do no harm.
One day, appeared sweet Eurydice,
Became his world a paradise.
Hymen’s smoking torch attended,
Near the sea, by vows were wedded.
Sweet days of joy and nights of bliss,
Song-filled hours sweetened with a kiss.
Appeared a lusting bee-keeper
Who tried to have his way with her.
In fear, into the forest fled,
On a serpent, by chance did tread.
On the wind her cries were carried –
Keen Orpheus did not tarry.
Too quick the poison reached her heart
To Death’s dark realm did soon depart.
Orpheus sang, but could not charm
The lifeless body in in his arms.
Helpless, away her soul was borne.
In twain, his sorrowed heart was torn.
In preparing to write a series of poems about Orpheus and Eurydice, I have just finished reading Orpheus: The Song of Life by Ann Wroe – a lyrically written exploration of Orpheus built on the premise that he was a real person.
THE NEW ROMANTICS (Not Taylor Swift’s)
March to the drummer of a romantic beat,
Follow in the footsteps of Byron, Shelley and Keats.
In the fairer sex, take great delight,
Stay up late writing poetry by candlelight.
Live like lords without a penny to our names,
Scorning all ambition, fortune and fame.
Take for our themes love, beauty and death,
Proclaim them all until our dying breath.
Let the choicest words fall from our lips
As from the comb, velvet honey drips.
With a heart full of fiery passion,
Our love will never go out of fashion.
In this crude world, we’ll be in denial,
Living our lives in true poetic style.
Forever, we’ll always keep on dancing,
Forever, we’ll always keep on romancing.
Shun this insipid, shallow world so frantic,
Come and join us, the new romantics.
(PoeticMedittions © 2016)
Writing poetry by candlelight (Photo: PoeticMeditations © 2016)
THE RAREST OF ALL RARE DELIGHTS
Summertime picnics on lush, green lawns;
Gray, quiet morning hours before the dawn.
Barefoot in a bright April shower,
Conversation to pass the idle hour.
Afternoons spent in a used bookshop,
Long, rambling walks to a distant hilltop.
Dark, stormy days in a pensive mood,
Fond memories recalled in solitude.
A book of verse and a glass of wine,
A silver pocket watch to tell the time.
Bottles of ink and parchment paper,
The busy clatter of a typewriter.
But the rarest of all rare delights
Is writing poetry by candlelight.
WHAT’S THIS GENTLY STIRRING IN THE HEART?
What’s this gently stirring in the heart?
Long forgotten after all these years.
From the beginning, a vital part;
Traces left behind like fallen tears.
The bright flame now a dying ember;
Passion subsided to contentment;
The mind struggling to remember;
Exhausted, it lays there quietly spent.
Long gone the euphoric, mad elation;
The loss of focus and appetite;
Gone the giddy, acute sensation;
The sense that in the world all is right.
Only boredom bred by dull routine.
Lightning, a raging fire can begin;
With parting clouds, the blue sky is seen –
Falling in love all over again.
Posted in Poetry
A colleague gave me a jasmine blossom the other day. I taped it to my lapel, and through out the day, every time I happened to look down, I caught a whiff of its sweet, delicate scent. Inspired, I wrote this haiku:
Tiny, white blossoms
dancing in the blazing noon –
sweet scent of summer
Of course, there’s Seals & Croft classic lines:
Sweet days of summer, the jasmine’s in bloom
July is dressed up and playing her tune . . .