#16

summer illyse

whatever path does come to pass,

know your presence, being, changed my greatly,

freed me from despair that would have fate be

and to your heart

wish i could give eternity

to love upon the world your radiant beauty,

to hold close unto your bosom

the pleading of tears and to care

as the dew nurtures the blossoms spring bestows,

from which all beauty, life, does grow,

and seedlings’ nectar enchants honeybees to sow,

for this is all, wish i, for you to know.   

        

                      -l.a.

#15

not am i complacent

the joy of her reaction

at my refusal of retraction

i mean the subtraction

of a statement

ever so blatant

‘cause not am i complacent

to sit down and lie down

and watch the displacement

of families and trees,

 feelings and bees,

cross oceans and seas,

won’t see it, can’t be it

so please … please

                -l.a.

#14 sheep

                                         sheep

crimson clouds, viscous seep, cloak heavenly nations and

the wind no longer rises from its sleep,

leaving sky to steep in thinning blood of faithful sheep,

pure coated, deep,

in years, which thousands’ reap, of this momentous tear

from sunken crawling green eyes, as ocean morning keeps the clear,

witnessing forsaken fear of slumber at eternal moment

before self-sovereignty, as told by

static, boxy, Godly seer

within his risen right, his risen reich,

is curtly clenched a wordy spear, a scare upon the mass it sear;

this beast, a god upon thou ear,

sign marked by feast on righteous fear,

but for sake of he, his Trinity Three,

are forsaken the people, chose by Trinity, He

six and six and six

and five and two, this mix

and three through nine

they mark these sheep, a fatal sign, but

still these arms are claimed divine

“all hail this Cretan plaque!

this conception by one

from hatred made!”

these bounding clouds, for he they reign,

and hit the heart, the most reverse

a royal reaction  the most perverse,

a catalyst for depth in earth

bound toward death in natural hearth,

while perilous cries tread upon breeze

as fireflies sporadic light the skies

these sunken faces amass in millions,

but save them the number,

and grant them a nothing-numerical slumber

                              -l.a.

# 13 my divines

                                 my divines

clutched in each my feeble hand,

two spheres settled, divinely planned;

december’s crimson roses sprang,

‘fore silvery song of canaries rang;

deep blankets of glistening snow, his weeping did hang,

beading sweat bedewed this earth, this cosmic yang;

merciful streams slashed fields vast,

and seas of past, so savage, ravaged civil sand,

while Sexual light, on midsummer night,

bore fingertips Lilliputian Grande;

oh, sweet these mortal sensual spheres

clutched in each my feeble hand,

but a stitch in time, not even could it save

my two divine

                                                                     for

tides colliding to rhythm of my pulse, outpoured

upon the floor, my heart bled for these adored;

discord struck frequency the fair ear could not withstand,

buried in stark basement thought was, of time, this delicate strand

whose shadows rose through virgin heavens, taking stand and

even most viridian moss declared to sun in eastern hand “we must disband”;

these wombs, flush, once fertile life, now futile strife, cried unheard,

and In effigy burned her word, two warring lords in stride abhorred;

millionth shattered bit that longing moons no longer lit,

and to my soul, ceased to befit, for it was I He so deplored;

for now you see, this i’ll ever be;

i clutch in each my feeble hand,

the remnants of two lives once planned.

                                                -l.a.

# 12 my glass menagerie

         my glass menagerie

hello,

     my friend, my foe, my end.

kissing nickel and kissing dime,  your key

seduces with Sirine chime upon

my ears, this Never-rhyme.

set to free, this Never-free,

my ever-be, my glass menagerie,

and oh, how you frighten me, but

despite me,

you ignite me,

and my essence burns brightly

enshrouded from creatures most sightly, but

brethren of you, sees ever so Slightly

and even in fall, He prays for this blight,

                                                               me.

your shackles, they sear through my flesh and my blood,

left am i craving this this life giving bud,

but this poor wasted seedling, a withering dud,

this poor waning seedling, not a stem in the mud.

for this stem, how you’ve thieved, and placed to my lip,

for my life, how you grip, leave me gasping for air,

for my life, how you rip, leaving utter despair,

for my life, how you strip, of the women most fair,

                and for what?

this mental repair?

fleeting moments of this feeble, fruitless love affair?

and how i dare, stagger six feet

down, and into your eyes stare,

in helpless cries, i swear, to

break from this snare, for  no

more can i bare to depart at declare,

must unshackle from your lair

or with death i shall share,

oh, i swear, i shall share with this death and despair.

                                          

                                           - l.a.

"Poems from the Book of Hours" --Rainer Maria Rilke

I recently read Rilke's short work of poetry entitled Poems from the Book of Hours and was blown away. Here are a few of my favorites:

        "We are all Workmen"

We are all workmen: prentice, journeyman,
or master, building you — you towering nave.
And sometimes there will come to us a grave
wayfarer, who like radiance thrills
the souls of all our hundred artisans,
trembling as he shows us a new skill.


We climb upon the rocking scaffolding,
the hammers in our hands swing heavily,
until our foreheads feel the caressing wing
of a radiant hour that knows everything,
and hails from you as wind hails from the sea.


Then hammerstrokes sound, multitudinous,
and through the mountains echoes blast on blast.
Only at dusk we yield you up at last:
and slowly your shaping contours dawn on us.


God, you are vast.




        "What Will You Do God, When I Die?"

What will you do, God, when I die?
When I, your pitcher, broken, lie?
When I, your drink, go stale or dry?
I am your garb, the trade you ply,
you lose your meaning, losing me.


Homeless without me, you will be
robbed of your welcome, warm and sweet.
I am your sandals: your tired feet
will wander bare for want of me.
Your mighty cloak will fall away.

Your glance that on my cheek was laid
and pillowed warm, will seek, dismayed,
the comforts that I offered once –
to lie, as sunset colors fade
in the cold lap of alien stones.


What will you do, God? I am afraid.



         "Put Out My Eyes"

Put out my eyes, and I can see you still;
slam my ears to, and I can hear you yet;
and without any feet can go to you;
and tongueless, I can conjure you at will.
Break off my arms, I shall take hold of you
and grasp you with my heart as with a hand;
arrest my heart, my brain will beat as true;
and if you set this brain of mine afire,
upon my blood I then will carry you.


While I suggest you get the real book, heres a link to an olnine version:
http://thefloatinglibrary.com/rilke/poems-from-the-book-of-hours/

Do it!!!

#11 12/10 sometimes i am never

                                                   sometimes i am never

sometimes all i can feel is the wind;

skin turns to tender brail and

loose hair flows across my face, to my eyes a veil.

sometimes my soul is blind

as the frail aged Engineer whose

ghostly haze of eyes, numbering ten, see everything,

but even He could not read me.

sometimes all i can feel is the wind;

He tells the leaves to rustle and ignite me, but

my wick has been left out at sea, for

even satan’s flame would cease

to light me, even Holy grip would fail

to right me, and even Engineer’s tips would fight

to sight me, but i can still only feel the wind

despite me. sometimes i feel my heart to remember i am alive and

question if my wordy hands defy me, perhaps

the wind is right, perhaps

my pulse lacks might, perhaps

my reasons are slight, for sometimes all i can feel is the wind.

                                              -l.a.

#10 12/10

                         “”

earthen line sanguine streams over velvet stone

     as quivering curls of eternal Davidian chest,

exists in every flowing crest

     a world of microcosmic breadth,

anguish blossoms, piercing thorns

     begetting hate ‘round every bend,

     slicing sweet existence

     forsaken friend,

chamber forged of chamber peace,

     insignificant morsel induces

     life of love

     as fleeting moment meet,

echoes cascade, compelling season wane,

     chamber quells, fate emanates,

     prevailing crest ascends elusory throne

     in ethereal reign,

to be is to be only ephemeral grace,

     for no face is free of age,

     being flows as pen on page

                     -l.a.

    

#9 12/10

            one thousand more

leather lies, this weathered prose,

     barren feather, vain pages dissect,

from thousand’s eyes, he doth repose,

     on auburn grain, on life reflect

‘fore corners worn, ‘fore mortal sphere,

     antiquated hands, tender artisan brush,

His every stitch, done most sincere,

     with cardinal ink, papyrus flush

veiled close, cross Sea of Black,

     enlightened soul, limbs hold tight,

relinquish he must, to get it back,

     this carnal crave, commanding fight

thousand innocent eyes strip heart from word,

for thousand more shall parable be heard

                                 -l.a.

#8 12/10

 a petal tells a thousand stories

bombarded by tremendous hate,

     odds in favor of fate cruel,

‘round every corner, nature wait,

     survival, breaking every rule

child born, unto his mother,

     grain of sand, toward sea abreast,

life blood, with she must smother,

     for any chance, at family crest

pacing lightly, circle formed,

     young child, loves aloud,

a thousand grains, for them he mourned,

     at last, petal seeps from shroud,

     a thousand stories, she tells proud

   

                              -l.a.

#7 12/10

     under the Nothing tree

charred branches crawl into the sky,

     ice light, cutting sharp the vast,

silhouette raven, out doth he cry,

     for his Nothing army, let Nothing last

in shut lids, the Nothing charge,

     feel this Nothing, for none can see

in nimble stride, this Nothing barge,

     heat equal to, the no degree

the Nothing come from every side,

     not dark, not light, a shade unknown,

to shy from Nothing, is to die,

     in many souls, it has shown,

     free your eyes, none are alone

                           -l.a.

#6 12/10

“”

                                                                    a glass heart

                                                                       shatters on Monarch

                                                                            wings

                                                                               in graceful

                                                                                  spring

                                                                                      ever-sounds

-l.a.

#5 12/10

“”

love

                                                                         settles on

                                                                                 lashes

     gilded in

                                                                                    tear

-l.a.

#4 12/10

brzezinka

              wooden rows

                                                                              fade

                                                                       into the past

                far shy

                                                                                of levity

-l.a.

#3 12/10

            nectar of death

wintery hands eternal intertwine,

     lines that could recite

     requiem dark as night,

     fallen stars it doth incite,

two, these vines wrapped clandestine,

licentious love, as such, divine

limp they lie on barren stone,

     none are words need come to pass,

     breathless lips fog poison glass

     stained in blood, none gentle mass,

befitting souls, by He is sown,

tangible world,  essence unbeknown

                               -l.a.

#2 12/10

“”

nimble wave

of

satin sound

wafts over blank thoughts

as autumn embers

carry

on silent wings

if

age could annotate,

clouds

would read as revelation

a story

fate,

 innumerable of every

date

whisper spurs

deluge élan

inciting

blitzkrieg

on the shattered cities

of my heart

-l.a.

#1 12/10

sunday morning

slowing beats, my blood is warm,

interlaced we lie, in heart and soul,

essence of love, i feel form

lapse into your eyes, an infinite hole

eclipsed in sheets, naked we lie,

skin to skin, a tender touch,

slender legs laced, a knot we tie,

thoughts mingle, as one is such

gentle breasts, against my chest,

silken hair, my fingers brush,

upon my shoulder, a head at rest,

mere sight of you, in veins a rush

-l.a.