Wednesday 29 August 2012

The Wolf's Collar


I
Gentle and light her footsteps fell,
On the shallow silent sleeping earth in a night
Dead and where the cold is bound to swell,
And send its warning to her skin in a bite,
She walked with her head bowed,
Her tight white cloak carefully contained
The fire of her red dress clear and loud,
Can the red truly by mere white be retained?
When the owls hooted, the moon shone
On her back and face, she learned of beauty
From the most invisible and distant creatures drawn,
And walking its path she had made to be her duty,
She held inside her the hidden fire,
To survive the black night's desire.

II
They howled from afar, she cared not,
But one was not as far as she thought,
Swift and lean from the hollow trees he could spot,
The white-cloaked virgin the night had brought,
He smiled to himself without a single sound,
She's not fooling him with her snow-colored cloak,
Her traces left burning leaves on the ground,
Her little hasty steps set sparks that could poke
A hidden desire behind his cold steel-hard face,
A dream long lost within his thickened skin,
And even from his curious place, her pace
as he listened, settled a battle and started a war within,
he held in his cold nature as well a hidden fire,
That she can't survive his black night's desire.

III
A crazed monster hurricane with cold bones,
He knew the wolves afar howled at the moon,
Announcing the virgin maiden nobody owns,
And they will come for her soon, too soon,
He strolled into her wide spread path,
She raised her eyes from his huge dexterous paws,
His eyes fixed on her, intense and a tormenting wrath
started as his teeth clinched tight in his jaws,
She froze in her place like it was impossible to turn
From his gaze staring right into her, she quivered,
And even though her skin feverishly did burn
Her whole body was overtaken and shivered,
The owls hooted no more and the moon grew dim,
All the beauty she ever looked for now resided in him.

IV
Closer and closer he approached her until
He could clearly smell her untainted blood
The rush of anticipation while she stood still
That still made his water rise into a flood,
He raised his hands and she flinched in fear,
''Is he going to attack?'' but he had felt her knees
Growing weaker and so he held her near,
And brought her to the ground with sweeping ease,
She shook in his arms and then she stopped,
With a voice deep as an ocean inside ''Take off the cloak''
And the cloak she unlaced and dropped,
All what matters is what this magnificent creature spoke,
She obediently exposed to him her dress of Red,
Damned if she could talk back, she'd rather be dead.

V
The ice on his lips melted once it touched hers,
He looked down at her from above,
As every sign of night around them flares,
His touch, her silent longing, a great pertaining love,
He held down every attempt she put up to fight,
And drowned every sound with invoking the next one,
Soon there was nothing left of the childish white,
Instead she drank in his soul, and she rose in him a sun,
And as the howls of the wolves faraway
Turned into wails growing stronger with their fire,
Burning the woods, alight like it's the mid of day,
He carried her on his silver back to a secret lair to retire,
The virgin bowed her neck to his collar and his chain,
And ever since, they were never seen again.

Monday 20 August 2012

When My Soul Left


Have you ever felt like you're not yourself?

You're being remade at this very moment,
Your past doesn't mean more than a dusty shelf
A laugh forgotten, a tear long dried,an empty comment.
Your soul is being poured into the air,
''Where are you going?'' you ask
''Whom are you leaving me for?'' worn and bare,
There's nothing but a hollow rusty mask
A mask that is all too familiar to hate,
''Temporary'',your soul answers, ''I'll be back,
You'll not die tonight, it's not your fate,
I'll go in and out of you in waves of black''
Like an old tavern that has been dead for ages, 
Only ressurected by the ghosts of drunkenness
And sent to sleep by the sober prayers of sages,
Sweeping a light across the horizon of darkness,
I'm being reinvented and only my beating heart
Is circulating inside me the bleeding campfire
Of  life into the night of ghost stories, till I depart,
And my soul, the sacred pit of dreaming desire,
The grimacing hurricane in a stagnating town,
Looking after my fleeting existence from within,
And leaving me just so in his oceans I'd drown
I'd stand beside him forever until the decay of my skin,
Go forth and bring back with you a dream,
That suits my gleaming heart in his hand,
Go forth and bring back a sparkling stream
Of northern stars breaded into a thickened strand,
And then enter me and settle inside me
Wrap around us the covers of serenity,
My arm reaches out for a universe so free
And ruled only by his sweeping sound's clarity.

Thursday 16 August 2012

Sonnet I: I Asked Myself Why Poets Die So Young


The Funeral of Shelley By Louis Edouard Fornier

I asked myself why poets die so young,
There, Shelley, Keats, there Plath and Byron, gone-
Fighting death with no more than a soulful tongue,
In lands where beauty from a critic’s hand is drawn,
A world that took a gamble on their souls,
And death that bowed to their immortality,
‘Tween realism’s and romanticism’s two poles,
Their chains are tight round their heart’s vitality,
Secure in freedom as the world is in prison
A threat to universe’s stagnation by mere words
They lived for, and when God took a sun that’s risen,
It left no reason to keep away night's swords
I fear not the death of poets, I long for it,
Ah! come its call, gladly I will submit.

Sunday 5 August 2012

The Philosopher's Stone


A celestial cage in the sky,
That's where I gracefully reside,
Cast away from the folded eyes,
For I am where all elements collide.

Amidst Water, a million times my ancestor,
And my descendant a million times,
Then in Fire, my beloved tormentor,
Boiling thy very core of my rhyme.

Turn me to vapor, Air flying free,
Forming a halo of sacred profanity
Brought back down by nature Earthly
A proof of my substantial humanity.

Away, every world hath tried to hide me,
And all of them hath indeed, failed,
For though, I am no where to be,
For those with eyes wide, I'm prevailed.

In thy heart of every shining soul,
In thy core of the seed in every mind,
I am thy other end of every heeding call,
I am all what thou art set to find.

Thy purest form of thy purest,
In a million ways aimed for
And never once achieved, thy truest
Treasure a man will explore.

Passers are many, It's me they're after,
Art thou a king looking for gold?
Art thou a lost sage looking for an alter?
Or art thou a student awaiting truth to unfold?

Thou shalt know, you needn't stray far,
Maybe as far as heaven to find out,
That I am within thee, in every star,
In thine soul's night to clear thy doubt.

So stand up to thy furnace and thy shelf,
Face thy imperfection of ruby, mercury and lead,
And find in nature and thine self,
What can't be taught, read or said.

Feel for thy universes as they enthrall
At thine touch and align perfectly for thee,
Thou art a quintessence of The World's Soul,
Thou art me in the making, and I thee.