mutant thoughts
spawn
the air is dank
blood heat
tepid adjectives
hang
without
a subject …
the object sits
tongue hanging out
cooling the breath
the only action
while nothing fills
the spaces between
every thing
every cell
and there I shall
meet you.
and we shall be
one mutant thought …
Plenty more poetry over at dVersePoets
watching clock time
hands on face
numbers roll
inhale
exhale
raggedly
visceral slowing
watching
candle flame lit
dispelling
a vampire in the ether
inhale
exhale
smoother now
deeper,
belly pushes hands
worries disintegrate
with the vampire’s
bad intentions
into naked time…
He prowls,
a restless tiger,
words cascade
as on a page projected
he draws his vision out
with a whiteboard marker;
committee columns
in a row to support
an executive portico,
I look at the form
and wonder
how it would function
as a starry constellation?
orange fades
earth’s shadow falls
a turn of the heart
beneath a streetlamp
quiet sighs
a queen of spades
hides quietly
in the house
of sumptuous dreams
the gambler’s nightmare
a queen of hearts
blushes
a peony unfurls
he pours a glass of wine
pink silence sparkles
a queen adorned
in ice diamonds
beaded midnight velvet
crystal tears
melt into rose and blue
a clover queen
in emerald splendour
a sense of petrichor
lightning dances
on sky mountains
quiet sighs
beneath a full moon
another turn of the heart
clouds boast silver linings
rain drops laugh
Can a shadow offend,
perhaps a shade
when mottled streams and
shady glades you wade,
or drive along
a windy road strobing
through an old growth
forest greenly glowing?
Cameras struggle with
the dark and light,
exposure levels
seek to overwrite;
lo, the quest beckons
for the hallowed grail –
perfect white balance,
visual delight.
And yet these shadows
that may offend some
mean no harm to
precious dispositions
with their dolly carts
and tripods,
and phallic lens
for definition.
I say, they are nought
but motes and dapples;
celebrate instead,
the artful play of shadows.
for
A time zone and an arc away
children climb on garbage .
The sunset casts its amber spray
children haul plastic bags.
Ladders from torchlights show the way
children trudge so hungry.
Recycling plant wraps up each day
children shed their burdens.
You walked into the room – a ray of light,
your masquerade costume, my ray of light.
You whispered, “my beloved”, my heart soared,
Your face, a precious bloom – a ray of light.
Unworthy feelings banished, I flew high
Above the deepest gloom, your ray of light.
We lightly tripped together, love’s pavanne,
Breathless; into my womb, new ray of light.
And those who doubt love’s transforming magic,
Sweep them clean with a broom, heart’s ray of light.
And if dark days descend on you, my love,
Then I would expel your doom, dear ray of light.
My soul is bound with crimson threads to yours,
Many summers on life’s loom – love’s ray of light.
Do visit dVerse for Samuel Peralta’s (aka Semaphore) wonderful post on the Ghazal as a form. This is the first time I have attempted to write a ghazal. It was very challenging to say the least.
Here is an extract from Samuel’s explanation of the form:
“Ghazals are beautiful poems, originating in Arabic verse from the sixth century, written traditionally about poetically physical or spiritual love, with a melancholic air of separation or longing.
Made famous in the Western world by the modern translations of works by Rumi and Hafiz, these translations unfortunately have been the source of much confusion over what a ghazal is.
Classic ghazals have a strict form and structure – similar to a Petrarchan sonnet. In trying to be faithful to the ancient poet’s words and expression, translators had to forego the structural framework of the classical ghazal in English.”
Marousia 