Danza la Stanza

A disorganised shelter for the beginning blurbs of poetry before it gets too large a volume to deal with in a single page.

Lights Out

I write in the dark knowing no
one
None shall see the light of this until
it is deemed
Complete. My
Psyche is master of its
Composition
Authority is all given
Respectfully might I add
To the lines of dark ink on
Light paper
Which blends – only
Separated in the moonlight
I am tempted to glimpse at my
Script but the temptation,
Fleetingly being, passes

14th February

I wrote you this letter
Hoping you would like it
Knowing that any attempt would be
Far superior to what I can say
For in writing will I not
Blush or stutter when I
Say that I want to be
More than friends, and
In so doing
So would I
Get to the point without mincing
Words

I hope you like it.

 

Insignificance

Wither a tree
Plow through the grass
Forget the ages come to pass
Burn out the sun
Freeze up the sea
The cosmos cares not what is meant to be

No god would give as much a care
Neither beast nor human knew
Still the winds rushed throught the air
whilst ignorance pushed earth askew

So sleep through your dreams
And waste every hour
Relish each day in your ivory tower
Then utter each silence
And bleach every page
For all the world is but a stage

 

冷性

I’d never guess
That passion spent most
Time as a glacier
Too cold and it froze in its
Tracks – Too warm and it but
Melted – into nothingness

Nay, not nothing, but something
Not quite measureable but
Given tiem to congeal
To find itself again
Transmuting – or, recrystallising
Love would
Reform instead

 

4am

Lucidity arrives at the doorstep
When no one is available to
Answer – but now I feel that
I must take the leap of faith
In the moment when lucidity
Hails me in the middle of
Nothingness. I must
Greet it
Invite this bosom friend,
Long lost, of
Clarity
In
And speak at great length
With lucidity
and Laugh and Cry and perhaps
Spend a moment of
Silence with it

Ode to a Moonlit Night

Life was simpler then
You called it childhood
I called it immaturity
The moon nodded in silver silence –
We were her children then
Who now craved the light of day, of
Innocence lost, and longed for
Our coming of
Age, and the passing
Of song.

 

Stage Fright

Passion runs cold
mutes cries of agony
tepid consciousness withdraws ever so proximally – so near yet so far
fear is on
holiday
in your veins

Coursing slipstream under waves
foolish men dive compelled

the surface calms
indefinitely

 

Passion for Fashion

You hear the clarion call
Of the fiddle left behind
Or the voice you thought you left
With your less dishonest kind

They said you had a calling
Yet silenced every song
With words as yet unspoken
Premonitions, all but wrong

To touch was more than feel
To fret was not unwise
One would walk under the ocean
Among reeds of blue disguise

So lay the stick to rest, and
Kiss the blade of sharp’nd knife
But, leit, you find the true theme
In the coda of your life
 

Falling Stars above Midnight Coast
(Submitted to Writing the City competition)

Grey pier outstretched, black space spread wide
Over rapidly rising tide
Whilst staring up with unblinking shutter
Your eyes a-viewing, your heart a-flutter

The grained earth ends, it meets the sea
who rends the sand relentlessly
But once and twice, then thrice and again
The ground slips into obsidian plain

Dark clouds above are born of stars
Which made Jupiter, Earth and Mars
The ones that fall into our sky, but
A flash of white to our naked eye

A steel bird bids us look away
It blinds us like the light of day
Returning then to childlike wonder
We wait for rocks to burn asunder

Through the air, they streak and flow
Split-second fireworks for show
Ignited, nature, in unassumption
Sporadic celestial conflagration

Dropt from the dust of streaming hair
It lands on your slim shoulders fair
Your soft heart beating right next to mine
Into the cosmos we stare supine

Time may not mind us foolish mortals
Whose souls may peer through two fine portals
But time and God I may misconstrue
When I watch meteors with you

 

The Wit That Writ

The hand follows the mind and the mind follows the heart
Upon the setting of the sun the stars snatch back the reins
Uncertainty dissolves at once on releasing of the dart
Yet hesitates a moment on the sound of distant strains
The end of fear – a human born from ashes, grows apart
Where snow’s a friend – a frigid cousin of tropical rains
Elysium but the carvings of the cunning and the smart
On papyrus and canvas – but a smear of naive stains

So once upon a time the stick, the quill, the fountain pen
Submitted, bent all crooked, to the muses, iron-willed
Who drew all that was fresh and pure from Earth’s most precious fen
Discarding as they went – ruthlessly – ignorance distilled

Yet they know best that every written plea
Will die – all stars must fade eventually

 

Arius’ Curse

I awaken to find that I
am beside myself
again
emptying echoes
in
the yawning chamber
alone in my bosom
that none
have felt
I question but
questions answer less
than they ask so
silent
silence tells me
The only way
out is in
my dreams

 

 

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