MY MARY IN LACE

Without form the mist falls
embracing memories from the halls
caressing this night of trees
setting to dance the ball room of leaves
wind songs offering whispered phantoms
answers to life’s unspoken questions
Sol and Luna never to know

The darkness and fires that burn within,
each morn, leave dew
on the conversation
between old gods and new.
Smooth the edges of the broken pieces
of the chalice of mankind.

As I sit in sorrow
pondering what could be
in the stead of what was,
Luna beams through the darkness of dreams.
It is here that my Mary appears in lace.
What lovely features has she;
shadows of ebony adorn ivory skin
like love etched with caressing kisses.
My apparition comes close.

I long to reach out,
but Percy’s words are adrift
quelling the fires of passion.
Desire will hide in the rain
and fall to the earth to find shelter
and flow to the seas of madness.

Oh Mary, Oh Mary
your Byron seeks not to destroy
only to gaze upon your beauty
to write of love’s sweet joy.
Attend me in lace
as my quill will dance
to attest the existence
of your gentle grace.

Concept: Nov 11, 2013
Completion © Feb 6,  2014 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

NOTE: my thoughts on what George Gordon might have written for Mary Wollstonecraft.

COME TO ME

Does my invitation frighten you?

It should not.

Love is not a token of light

but a world within darkness…

Shhhh…..

As I shut out the world,

Allow me the heavenly gift of unsculpting you…

Let me trace your essence…

Let me find you without sight…

Close your eyes and feel…

My whispers, like the Autumnal winds that tease your hair…

My touch, the loving hand of the Creator…

My love, like the gentle wisps of fog that caress the valley…

My kisses, like a butterfly, find sweetness wherever you exist…

The darkness is now filled with the luminous awe of innocence.

What have we found?

Is it enough?

No. Not for ever…

but yes, in the moment

We are complete…

Do not think…

…just listen…

…feel…

…love…

My quill will bleed memories of this moment.

All will know of you…

© Jan 29, 2014 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Please remove my letters from your numbers?

 

I was cool with math until they started trying to make it a mystery novel by adding my beautiful alphabetic characters. When my professor ask me what the function of "x" was. I told him it was the end-mark of "fox, box, and chicken-pox." It is also the bookends of "Xerox," and "Xanax." Is the starting point for "X-ray" and "Xylophone." And the midpoint of "axe" and "Sixer." He was not as amused as was the class. Needless to say, "I failed math, but aced literature."



You've mixed my letters
into your soup of numbers
I believe that qualifies
as a literary blunder.



The only line affected
by the function of "x" or "y"
Is the spelling of my word
not a dot on a line.



Please take your numbers
that flow not together
Leave my elegant letters
to form and dance forever.



1 + 1 = 2
That will always be the rule.
Any that claims the contrary
I might label a fool.



How dare you ever say,
"1 + 1 = B."
How can you mix the beauty
of letters with crude numerology?



© Jan 2, 2014 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic




NOTE: photo a random internet find and words just a prod of jest toward math.

enough to carry me

The older I get the more cynical my views on being "in" love. It is an intoxication for the young; like alcohol. The buzz fades in time, yet we continue the chase until we rest beneath the daisies. The butterflies migrate from the body and return to the ether. Emptiness is left as the fragrance is bled from the blossom. All things wither and die. Love, life, and the pursuit of happiness. The memories are there. That is enough to carry me through the rest of my days.

I pine for the youthful vigor of love. But have outrun its reach. Now I wander into the fields of Autumn and dream. I am in love with the idea of being in love. That is enough to carry me through the rest of my days.

I remember the fall. Catching her. Seeing her smile. The rise. Regaining and maintaining altitude from the magic that her essence found in me. Watching the awe bleed from her eyes as we soared the upon the winds of peace, between the mountains of pain and into the valley of peace. It was there that I first glimpsed the shadow of darkness within her beauty. The doubt of purity. The jealousy of my faith and belief in love. She did not understand that I was teaching her to fly. As I turned to search the past, I felt her clip my wings. She failed to realize that love was not a destination, but a journey. She stranded us both. Forever lost.  She wandered into the night and left me alone. My love in and of itself was not enough for the two of us. Now I await the mountains to crumble and fill this chasm of emptiness. Her memory will keep me alive and in torment until that final day. That is enough to carry me through the rest of my days.

© Jan 2, 2014 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Happy New Year!

Goodbye

There is nothing worth living for
there is nothing worth dying for.
Your reality was accepted by me
my reality you called fantasy.
My thoughts once were forever free
your cruelty chained them for eternity,
My dreams of shimmering dust
turned, by my tears, to rust.
Removing the "us" from "Muse"
you left me alone with "me."

Goodbye...

© Dec 25, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

WE ARE POETS

What our words might fail,

our passion fills that empty space.

When our passion fails,

our Muse takes the fall from grace.

Why our Muse appears to fail;

our understanding was flawed.

How our understanding fails,

our dreams are ignored.

Where our dreams fail,

our words are hollow places.

As poets we try to interpret the dance

‘tween tree and gentle breeze.

Embrace the delicate sway

transformed to shadow, from flame.

Open our heart by way of ear

and hear the whispering winds.

The tales it tells through the years

to the leaves on trees it bends.

We try in vain to master the tongue

forgotten to time’s lonely song.

But we watch and understand

what passion is destined to become.

We stop

We notice

We listen

We understand

We share…

We are…poets.

© Dec 9, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic