The night is silent and cool as glass;
I dream of voids and slumbering deep
Unheeded in my bed like the dead I sleep;
Yet a shaft of light intruding; a thunder
Halves the heavens above my stay,
There pounds an aural call and a flashinging ray
Plays an answer thrice over my stay.
There I lay, questioning whether to wake or sleep,
Whether to cringe or fear or lordly mirth,
Over yon vertigonous and vibrating earth!
maanantai 27. kesäkuuta 2011
perjantai 17. kesäkuuta 2011
Narrative account of a dream, Op. 39
1.
'Tis a poet's duty, and his daily task - to dream
For will and toil; for his day and night,
To fill his realms with pain and delight;
To retain his dreams, to pen down his diary,
To invoke his visions from memory, to call
With golden tongue, to play a siren-song to enthrall,
His audience, who with vampires' drain
Beseech those who with words do entertain.
So too I, when yesternight in my dreams did wreathe;
And wrangle and dream; There was a field most strange,
A labyrinth of corridors, whose massive bleached range
I shall explore; for your delight, to conjure.
2.
Ours was a nation so isolated and endless,
Its presence made awe with spacious excess;
The walls were pallid and white; on and on,
They ran, split, merged; like a living thing,
Whose breadth an enternity went, or perhaps a ring;
Some world-serpent, to name some names,
Jormungand, or Nidhogg; But nevermind those,
For endless conclaves the passages did enclose,
And there did teem a folk of twisted men;
Imps and dwarves, giants too; to whom men did make
The blind order of sundry dreams; yet for my sake
They did fear but one, and I among them too.
3.
For in the winding corridors there did roam,
Some figures of horror, nameless and vast,
Their sight evaded me; only the terror they cast
Was present, yet that was all and ever; that fear
Was the defining law of that so strange place,
A vivid nightmare; I did think theirs was a real race;
The critters that fled night, the shades that made pursuit.
Yet allow me elaboration, the shapes were simple;
At first there was none, a blob that edgeless onwards leant,
Then more complex, a crouching form, twisted and bent
A thing of sorcery; a witch upon her cauldron, such a shape,
Head out-thrust, jawless mouth open and agape.
4.
These beings of nightmare born, my mind's dreamy spawn,
Did seek their source, to them I was drawn,
And though I would them evade, unheeded my way
Like treason lead to them, and mindlessly they to I.
Yet not all was a-dream, for I very well still knew,
That I lived and was, and with familiar and persistent view
Sought to make myself, then sought wisdom, then to flee.
'Twas a dream within a dream, I set my sight to be free,
And the dream did mock me, I remember; yet no more,
The dream shifts and turns, its a state fluid and intense,
Where one is at once aware, and then without a sense;
At once a god or deity, yet then still a puppet.
5.
That dream too, shifted and turned, danced away,
Soon changed partners, and its a striking visions,
Did muddle and change to another, so too here;
Things of pain turn to pleasure, and delight to fear;
Yet all the same, I could not flee, nor twist my state,
And for a night worthy of eternity, the bleached maze
Followed my lead; though that dream's now a haze,
The reader knows, for dreams of all ever are,
The attention they command last but a night,
Their imprint like a mist disperses during the light;
Yet let it be said, 'twas no dream of pain or desire,
For I still seek to be free, and woke my loins in fire.
'Tis a poet's duty, and his daily task - to dream
For will and toil; for his day and night,
To fill his realms with pain and delight;
To retain his dreams, to pen down his diary,
To invoke his visions from memory, to call
With golden tongue, to play a siren-song to enthrall,
His audience, who with vampires' drain
Beseech those who with words do entertain.
So too I, when yesternight in my dreams did wreathe;
And wrangle and dream; There was a field most strange,
A labyrinth of corridors, whose massive bleached range
I shall explore; for your delight, to conjure.
2.
Ours was a nation so isolated and endless,
Its presence made awe with spacious excess;
The walls were pallid and white; on and on,
They ran, split, merged; like a living thing,
Whose breadth an enternity went, or perhaps a ring;
Some world-serpent, to name some names,
Jormungand, or Nidhogg; But nevermind those,
For endless conclaves the passages did enclose,
And there did teem a folk of twisted men;
Imps and dwarves, giants too; to whom men did make
The blind order of sundry dreams; yet for my sake
They did fear but one, and I among them too.
3.
For in the winding corridors there did roam,
Some figures of horror, nameless and vast,
Their sight evaded me; only the terror they cast
Was present, yet that was all and ever; that fear
Was the defining law of that so strange place,
A vivid nightmare; I did think theirs was a real race;
The critters that fled night, the shades that made pursuit.
Yet allow me elaboration, the shapes were simple;
At first there was none, a blob that edgeless onwards leant,
Then more complex, a crouching form, twisted and bent
A thing of sorcery; a witch upon her cauldron, such a shape,
Head out-thrust, jawless mouth open and agape.
4.
These beings of nightmare born, my mind's dreamy spawn,
Did seek their source, to them I was drawn,
And though I would them evade, unheeded my way
Like treason lead to them, and mindlessly they to I.
Yet not all was a-dream, for I very well still knew,
That I lived and was, and with familiar and persistent view
Sought to make myself, then sought wisdom, then to flee.
'Twas a dream within a dream, I set my sight to be free,
And the dream did mock me, I remember; yet no more,
The dream shifts and turns, its a state fluid and intense,
Where one is at once aware, and then without a sense;
At once a god or deity, yet then still a puppet.
5.
That dream too, shifted and turned, danced away,
Soon changed partners, and its a striking visions,
Did muddle and change to another, so too here;
Things of pain turn to pleasure, and delight to fear;
Yet all the same, I could not flee, nor twist my state,
And for a night worthy of eternity, the bleached maze
Followed my lead; though that dream's now a haze,
The reader knows, for dreams of all ever are,
The attention they command last but a night,
Their imprint like a mist disperses during the light;
Yet let it be said, 'twas no dream of pain or desire,
For I still seek to be free, and woke my loins in fire.
maanantai 13. kesäkuuta 2011
Extempore
'Many undutiful aims I've been blamed,
I twist and warp the verse - Been claimed'
'Form's hollow; rhyme dusty; theme antic,
Deliberate naivete, 'tis an instant Classic!'
'There, observe how the poem smoothly flows,
Like a stream, down a mountain it crashing goes'
'Here, this shows an influence of tradition,
Hark! the rhymes demand an emancipation'
'A perfect work's a flawless diamond, it
Punctuates it's lines with terse wit'
'Or rather, overflowing like a symphony -
A metaphor; for extravaganza of poetry!'
'Yet, let me offer advice: the working class
Does always prefer jubilee before the mass'
'Aristocracy, a work thorougly political,
There's a rhyme, I know - 'tis nonsensical'
'Do consider the above, it does raise
One's influence, and too, earns some praise.'
I twist and warp the verse - Been claimed'
'Form's hollow; rhyme dusty; theme antic,
Deliberate naivete, 'tis an instant Classic!'
'There, observe how the poem smoothly flows,
Like a stream, down a mountain it crashing goes'
'Here, this shows an influence of tradition,
Hark! the rhymes demand an emancipation'
'A perfect work's a flawless diamond, it
Punctuates it's lines with terse wit'
'Or rather, overflowing like a symphony -
A metaphor; for extravaganza of poetry!'
'Yet, let me offer advice: the working class
Does always prefer jubilee before the mass'
'Aristocracy, a work thorougly political,
There's a rhyme, I know - 'tis nonsensical'
'Do consider the above, it does raise
One's influence, and too, earns some praise.'
sunnuntai 12. kesäkuuta 2011
Squall Rock, Op. 38
Spiral, spiral, the sickle winds;
Upwards, upwards, the squall winds,
To beat upon the beaten shore,
To hail upon the stoic shore;
Tremble rock; shatter, shards,
Reign, calm; gentle the peaks;
Shy and shirk; the waves
Disperse and die; the clouds
Pause and peace before the rock,
Wither and wear before the sun;
To gather before the dusk is done,
To lie before the day is due;
Snigger before the lonely shore,
Dance above the moonlit shore;
Spiral, spiral, the sickle winds;
Upwards, upwards, the squall winds,
To beat upon the beaten shore,
To roar upon the wrinkled shore;
Squall rock, before the dawn,
Wash away, with salty tears.
Upwards, upwards, the squall winds,
To beat upon the beaten shore,
To hail upon the stoic shore;
Tremble rock; shatter, shards,
Reign, calm; gentle the peaks;
Shy and shirk; the waves
Disperse and die; the clouds
Pause and peace before the rock,
Wither and wear before the sun;
To gather before the dusk is done,
To lie before the day is due;
Snigger before the lonely shore,
Dance above the moonlit shore;
Spiral, spiral, the sickle winds;
Upwards, upwards, the squall winds,
To beat upon the beaten shore,
To roar upon the wrinkled shore;
Squall rock, before the dawn,
Wash away, with salty tears.
tiistai 7. kesäkuuta 2011
No dog barks in a distant post... Op. 37
No dog barks in a distant post,
The gate unbarred, the battlements worn,
No guard to play the copper horn,
None to blow the bugle of borderlands,
And to sound a warning of shifting sands,
Of inns and taverns which with dust,
Show the signs of decadence and lust.
Though here once sojourned the settlers pride,
No courageous soul now stays to reside,
To populate with childrens' cries,
To travel the trek with uplifted eyes;
The cities now barren, the land empty,
And like akin the unknown oasis, the fertile sea,
Should frown and scorn the race of man,
That leaves undone which with promise began,
And so should too the sun of west,
When unobserved from the citadel he lays to rest.
Yet not all is dead, open hangs not every gate,
No song sings of what is truly desolate,
So here too, one local recruit,
With dreary step and spotted suit,
Drags to man the post in the wall,
Which unmanned leaves the local gall,
To see how the red sun falls, in her bowl
And hear the lonesome wolves' howl.
There, on the stark steps of masonry,
Alone he grows slumberly and dreamy,
Throwing one glance to the southern way,
To dream of dreams which beyond there lay;
Of vivid beauty, with silver white,
With golden clad, towns beyond his sight,
And most of all, where with stern order,
He could banish the waning northern border.
Little he knows, that the silver and gold,
To pay the debts they ever are sold,
And that the Roman roads his mind does pave
With golden tiles, none would brave,
When the hounds of empire, in feral packs,
Have swept even the brigands with their attacks.
Yet, perhaps these things he indeed knew,
As to the northern lands he turns his view,
And wills to see some brazen horde,
Come back to sack and rule with sword;
In its head some flame-drunk Tamerlane,
To sweep this empire in his wane.
The gate unbarred, the battlements worn,
No guard to play the copper horn,
None to blow the bugle of borderlands,
And to sound a warning of shifting sands,
Of inns and taverns which with dust,
Show the signs of decadence and lust.
Though here once sojourned the settlers pride,
No courageous soul now stays to reside,
To populate with childrens' cries,
To travel the trek with uplifted eyes;
The cities now barren, the land empty,
And like akin the unknown oasis, the fertile sea,
Should frown and scorn the race of man,
That leaves undone which with promise began,
And so should too the sun of west,
When unobserved from the citadel he lays to rest.
Yet not all is dead, open hangs not every gate,
No song sings of what is truly desolate,
So here too, one local recruit,
With dreary step and spotted suit,
Drags to man the post in the wall,
Which unmanned leaves the local gall,
To see how the red sun falls, in her bowl
And hear the lonesome wolves' howl.
There, on the stark steps of masonry,
Alone he grows slumberly and dreamy,
Throwing one glance to the southern way,
To dream of dreams which beyond there lay;
Of vivid beauty, with silver white,
With golden clad, towns beyond his sight,
And most of all, where with stern order,
He could banish the waning northern border.
Little he knows, that the silver and gold,
To pay the debts they ever are sold,
And that the Roman roads his mind does pave
With golden tiles, none would brave,
When the hounds of empire, in feral packs,
Have swept even the brigands with their attacks.
Yet, perhaps these things he indeed knew,
As to the northern lands he turns his view,
And wills to see some brazen horde,
Come back to sack and rule with sword;
In its head some flame-drunk Tamerlane,
To sweep this empire in his wane.
perjantai 3. kesäkuuta 2011
I would, should the moon hide its silver face... Op. 36
I would, should the moon hide its silver face;
Should the stars shield away their golden blaze;
Should the mist clear, earth steal away her haze:
I could dare, and would, should she shy away her gaze.
"And I would honor her with a graceful kiss,
Kiss her with grace, and honor life with parting lips"
Yet flee would not the stars, not tonight,
The moon too, with vexed and enthralled light,
Would but gaze away at the graceful sight,
And smile from her austere and azure height
"Yet why care, for one smile and moment's bliss,
Heart and eyes see, whatever from blessed state"
And let moon sway and shake her silken frame,
Let the stars disjoint and flee their astral fame,
Let earth and water cease their lasting game,
What but a moment lasts shall never be the same
"Though a blink shall part that and this,
Not thousand more to stop the will of it"
Oh shame the night and the street-lamp sun!
With bravery and dare were the wars and kisses won,
Yet the dare the dying sun had just began,
With one flash of moon it's with cowardice outdone
"So, with waning moon we part, yet our lips meet not,
Nay, not a kiss today, I send none to meet the rest."
Should the stars shield away their golden blaze;
Should the mist clear, earth steal away her haze:
I could dare, and would, should she shy away her gaze.
"And I would honor her with a graceful kiss,
Kiss her with grace, and honor life with parting lips"
Yet flee would not the stars, not tonight,
The moon too, with vexed and enthralled light,
Would but gaze away at the graceful sight,
And smile from her austere and azure height
"Yet why care, for one smile and moment's bliss,
Heart and eyes see, whatever from blessed state"
And let moon sway and shake her silken frame,
Let the stars disjoint and flee their astral fame,
Let earth and water cease their lasting game,
What but a moment lasts shall never be the same
"Though a blink shall part that and this,
Not thousand more to stop the will of it"
Oh shame the night and the street-lamp sun!
With bravery and dare were the wars and kisses won,
Yet the dare the dying sun had just began,
With one flash of moon it's with cowardice outdone
"So, with waning moon we part, yet our lips meet not,
Nay, not a kiss today, I send none to meet the rest."
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