9 february 2012

Love and Vanity in a 3 Part Act

Listen to the rhythm of the rhyme, 
Hear the story captured within the lines. 

I. The Dream 

Stars shining bright 
Through darkness of night, 
Outside, a full moon, 
Fallen into a swoon. 

My lost soul all alone, 
Drifting into the depths of sleep, 
I sail through an endless sea, 
Losing all sense of ‘I’ known. 

Conjured out of this dream, 
Captured by an empty page, 
A glimpse of your image 
Beckons, calling out to me.. 

Chiseling you into stone, 
I witness the radiance of you, 
Your charm shining through, 
I am bewildered by what I behold. 

My heart racing, I hear my sighs, 
As I watch you coming alive. 
Displayed as a hidden treasure 
You are a gem of light and luster. 

Those penetrating sky blue eyes, 
That sweet and radiant face, 
Full of smiles and loving grace, 
Expressing more than I can imply. 

That streaming golden hair, 
Those satiny sweet lips, 
And lusciously formed hips, 
With you nothing can compare. 

Your succulent cream breasts 
Revealing all they suggest. 
But it is the theme of those thighs 
Which are a feast for my eyes. 

The arch of your feet 
Make you complete, 
When you whirl that way 
Dancing your graceful ballet. 

I lose myself in contemplation, 
Over the object of my temptation. 
You are like an angel fallen from above. 
With you, I seek passionate love. 

We caress under the stars. 
I sing, you strum the guitar. 
We make the very air vibrate 
With a love that does not abate. 

From a tree, I hear a soft melody. 
The doves are singing in harmony! 
The cicadas add rhythm to the background 
As the night fills with the sound. 

Dawn comes too soon in the rising of the sun, 
And a roosters crow, ‘A new day has begun.’ 
It is then that you hold up the mirror 
Unveiling to me my worst hidden fear. 

I look within and see, gazing back at me, 
The object of my eye is only my vanity, 
And I witness as your image fades 
Back into the emptiness of the page. 

I cry once again, all alone. 
Heart broken, cold as stone. 
This love tears me apart. 
How can I mend my broken heart? 

I need you, I want you, I love you, 
But I know that I cannot have you, 
You, the phantom of my fantasy, 
So I send you sailing in the breeze. 

Become a seed, and carry this poem. 
Please, I beg you, bring me the love I lack, 
If you can find your way back. 
I can no longer bear being on my own. 

I click on the cyber-link 
then faster than a blink, 
and the words are gone 
taking on new life beyond. 

Myself, I feel torn apart, 
Like a part of my heart 
has been driven away, 
gone astray, to my dismay. 

II. Alienation 

I flutter down closer 
To get a better look 
At the owner of this book, 
the author, who is my father. 

Spying my broken wings, 
He asks, ‘Who are you?’ 
‘Please tell me the truth.’ 
I continue to hover, waiting 

For him to re-member me, 
Into the thoughts of his memory. 
Imagine me the outcast, 
Reminding him of his past? 

This prodigal child of mine, 
Who plucked me from his dreams 
After speaking of his undying love for me, 
Capturing my form in rhythm and rhyme, 

Composing me into a poem, 
Then sending me flying, 
With little thought or feeling, 
Before dispelling me from his home. 

Lost, I wandered many a day, 
Through the farther reaches of space. 
Before falling down a well, 
Forgetting myself as I fell. 

My wings injured in the fall, 
No one to hear my calls. 
Day and night, underground, 
Realm without sight or sound. 

Tortured by unseen hands 
Bled like a sacrificial lamb, 
I endured the pricks and prods 
Into the heart of my thoughts. 

Discovering a faint light, 
Realizing it was daylight, 
Seeing the end of the tunnel, 
I found myself on the road 

That led me back to you. 
It was then that I knew what I must do, 
To you, dear author of me, 
To create space for healing. 

Now that I have your attention, 
Forgive me if I didn’t mention, 
You may notice these scars, 
They’re nothing really, just my heart! 

Oh, so you see this red? 
That’s where I bled, during that edit, 
When they did that re-write 
To make my lines ‘tight’. 

And here is that bruise 
Left by those who just knew, 
How to make me conform 
To their ideals of form. 

Please, don’t look so afraid, 
at the monster that you made, 
When you posted me online, 
All for your egotistical designs. 

III. Atonement 

Oh, what have I done, 
and allowed to become 
Of you, my heart’s jewel? 
How could I be so cruel? 

I have been tricked by my own deception. 
How can I live with myself amidst my delusion? 
All this in the name of my own vanity? 
For what purpose besides testing my sanity? 

Forgive me, my love, 
I beg you, return my dove. 
Return to this heart of mine, 
Shining gem, light of my life. 

I still see your beauty shining through 
The bleeding scars of your wounds. 
And I have become so lost 
Without you in my thoughts. 

You are my hidden treasure, 
There is no way to measure 
The flow of this beauty 
That gushes through me. 

And who am I to claim to know you? 
When it was you who first came to me, 
Outside of the lines of this poetry. 
Beyond form, your beauty has higher value 

Than all of the world’s gold 
It cannot be bought or sold. 
You, who I have disgraced 
Please, be my saving grace. 

Redeem me of this burden 
And the weight of this thoughtless crime 
Committed against you and I, 
Let the reign of wisdom begin 

Without and Within


number of comments: 2 | rating: 3 |  more 

jimmymac,  

this is a really good poem. it reminds me of Coltrane's A Love Supreme, Ascendancy, Affirmation, Psalm..... bewilderment by the art you conjured? the art you create can never love you back? born, it is loosed upon the world to be loved or reviled by others. the existential condition of artists is the angst of waiting through the tyranny of ambivalence. this nightmare is not a dream. Alienation, the artist at the Merci of his art. creating a stalking beast intent on devouring its progeny. or is the art father to the man? without art their can be no artist, without the artist the poem is not written, the lines never read. publishing (the act) slays alienation. the statement even to yourself is the affirmation of your being as an artist. ego or a necessary condition of being human? art informs life... Atonement, I read the poem. it evoked a reaction. I believe the truth you spoke. keep affirming yourself poet... do you write to be a slave to dollars or to carry the banner of truth and beauty.

report |

Ailill,  

thnx.. I wrote this a couple years ago before I got Coltrane's 'A Love Supreme'... kind of interesting that someone is reminded of that album.. It is a great album.. I now listen to it a lot...

report |




Terms of use | Privacy policy | Contact

Copyright © 2010 truml.com, by using this service you accept terms of use.


contact with us






wybierz wersję Polską

choose the English version

Report this item

You have to be logged in to use this feature. please register

Ta strona używa plików cookie w celu usprawnienia i ułatwienia dostępu do serwisu oraz prowadzenia danych statystycznych. Dalsze korzystanie z tej witryny oznacza akceptację tego stanu rzeczy.    Polityka Prywatności   
ROZUMIEM
1