Fairy Scholarship

(Mumbling) apologies to those expecting more frequent “stuff” here. We are busy with Fairy Scholarship, not that Pirates will be neglected there, at least of the non-postmodern variety.

Filed under: self-commentary

Change of direction

Howard Pyle illustration of pirate captain on deck, from Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates.

I shall be posting links to things of interest from now on, as well as other poetry.

I’ve also become a pirate.

Filed under: self-commentary

Yellows & Blacks

Asked if I was in love—I think I said
Rather generally, ‘yes I am’—But a meaning
Forestalling stalker tactics had crept out—
Making lies of any further flippantness.

They would have easily heard out loudly then
About this: (How I might love with pride) Just
As vibrant fields of yellows & blacks gracefully
Descended, playing loudly long triumphal chords.

Strangely timorous wings, proudly shivering—
With voice now fluttering along with Monarchs,
Nimbus clouds now strong and dark descend,
Whose pregnancies weighed the air with pressure.

More suddenly, ever stranger orders of nature,
Mischievous gods cracked the heavens open
Lending light and absurdity to that field—
Saturated and startling in yellow and black.

Asked if I was in love—I then forgot—
As wave on wave of light descended there—
And so I knew and saw that Day had come—
And Knew all further Days would be with Her.

Filed under: Eros

The Road

The road seemed wide, but many cars
had shamed the pavement; streaming stars on asphalt
Standing still, waiting their fault,
Conspiring the night into a halt; then something
New, considerable, began to sing
Blaming loud at all who bring away
The peace into that dark deserted way;
I had not choice at all, I played my part
Pretending all sufficed in art
While Truth behind me spoke ‘Go now, start the day
That they cannot ever repay
What’s lost, pleases not display with stars’

Filed under: Sententia, Soliloquy

let me see you once my love

let me see you once my love,
for five hours at least, to stand
while time unfolds you to me;
let me see you once my love
yourself make stay
to make us right;
let me see you once my love,
so we may know no day
that will not be our night;
let me see you once my love
draw figures on the sand
so I may forever stay
there in your light

Filed under: Eros

My Sultana’s Jewel

I dreamt of my sultana’s jewel, with red
invasion of my schemes, and then she said
to me, “my strength, await our mutual doom
when time and space shall finally make our bed.”

Filed under: Eros, Rubai

My Love Did Not Speak With Me Today

Some days are colored mornings full of play,
And some there are that leave the soul in mire
For my love, who did not speak with me today.

Now while at work, anticipate display
That cause too brief of words that would inspire,
For days of colored mornings full of play.

And there are days of skill which will, while may
This love too many moments, that they tire
Of my love, who did not speak with me today.

Now happy days may necessarily stay
With mutual longing. Lights we leave with fire
To bring those colored mornings full of play.

But now I sit alone, along the bay
Where lapping waves come covering remnant pyre
Left from love, that did not speak to me today.

So leave me thoughts that weave and coax my lyre
And leave these words aloft. Obscure desire
For days of colored mornings full of play
For my love, who did not speak with me today.

Filed under: Eros, villanelle

Counting Cowries

Here on this shore
Where you are not
I should be counting cowries
How many I must pay
That air of various tastes
And vibrancies between
From jasmines to roses
And scents of salt.
They wait there, quietly
Accusing my inaction.
I smile my diffidence
These shells are ignorant
And cannot tell me that
You are not there
In jasmines and roses
And scents of salt.

Filed under: Eros

A list to make

A list to make is such a bother
Nothing there is mine
But spread on walls that all together
Laugh loudly at my time.

I can swear I hear them all
Years of indecision
Bleeding memories that recall
Of sweaty palm derision.

No boxes full of books there
No sepia memories lift
No music discs, to clear
And while away my grief.

Filed under: Soliloquy

narcissism

sebastian saw something:
an assemblage of assorted animals
of feather and fur and dark of aspect.
sebastian heard something:
they were conferring amongst themselves
noisily worrying this observer.
sebastian said something:
‘look at how you all assume
to stay there murmuring yourselves.’
sebastian thought something:
‘you have visions more than some–
while life is configured and imposed.’
sebastian knows something
about the narcissism of poets,
preachers, and various madmen

Filed under: self-commentary