Twilight

Twilight

What fate torments you, spirit of twilight,
Forever cursed to chase the setting sun
And be pursued by spectres of the night
Borne on that cobalt shroud from which you run!
Your wake cuts like a knife through coalescence
Of colours bleeding out from sunset’s prism,
To drip in pools bereft of luminescence
That fill the chasm cleft by your incision;
Yet even as that fiery orb descends
Horizon’s crimson line, on eastern quarter,
Her speeding chariot’s argent light portends
The visage of Hyperion’s eldest daughter.
    By destiny decreed to never know,
    The dark of night, nor daylight’s warming glow.

Twilight On The Farm Image: Charles Rollo Peters Click image to visit.

Twilight On The Farm
Image: Charles Rollo Peters
Click image to visit.

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Nose

Nose

This morning I discovered a hair
growing on the tip of my nose.
I’ve always cast myself as the bearer of
an unblemished nose, attractive even,
in the manner of those perfectly
symmetrical marble appendages
adorning the gods of Rome.
Oh well.
Tweezers flashed.
Pilus expelled. Antinous again, sure enough;
but the nose reneged its place
and refused to cede to vacuous
space the foreground of my
consciousness–
Clever nose.
It sensed, in a whiff that wafted on
the noontime breeze from across
the expanse of time to,
somehow,
emerge from my neighbour’s kitchen window,
the redolence of school meals.
I am sent.
An eternal instant: I’m a happy,
clever and extremely cute little boy,
standing eagerly in line in my grey
short pants and pullover, holding
my dinner plate and breathing
deeply the delicious aroma of
cheese pie ‘n’ chips, now
transmuted into
the poignant essence of
youth.
Gone.
Yes, my neighbours cooking can
certainly get the juices flowing!

The "Lansdowne Antinous" Image: Wikipedia Click on image to visit

The “Lansdowne Antinous”
Image: Wikipedia
Click on image to visit

Beauty on a crowded street

Beauty on a crowded street

Axons swoon
to hues of amethyst redolence
in eyes that drink passion
from the fusion of her essence
with the air.
Demure Aphrodite?
Wielding the vine of Pothos to a deluge of lust?
Or just some other Lady of Cythera
inciting carnal passions
with the guile of Venus.

Orb Romance

cool-pic-of-spaceThe sun arose before the dawn
The morning of his day of rest,
With rays a-trim and beams a-shorn
He donned himself his Sunday’s best;

The astral aura fringed his crown
And cloudy frills bedecked his vest,
With trousers wrought of misty down,
His coat–a braided, cobalt crest;

And up he shone in dark of night
His wake a golden vaporous trace,
While off a-far stars twinkled bright
Below the world in sleeps embrace;

Into the heaven’s vaults serene
Beyond translucent silver billows,
That parted to reveal Selene
Reclined across her argent pillows;

And oh how radiantly he shone
To see her pale complexion flush
With love’s white heat reflected from
His ardent passion’s burning rush!

Then all around the Milky Way
Resounding o’er ethereal seas,
Celestial strings began to play
The waltz of Fate and Destiny,

And all night’s creatures awed to see
Their star a-waltzing with his queen
Go dancing ’round the galaxy
Enraptured in their lover’s dream

As hand-in-hand they twirled and swayed
In Gaia’s ballroom of the night,
Reciprocating hearts portrayed
The joys of sharing love’s delight;

‘Till in his luminosity
That passion’s bent his soul enkindled,
Like a tide gone out to sea,
Night receded, starlight dwindled;

‘The eastern skies turned fringed with light,
A draft churned mist in valley’s deep,
As birdsong broke the spell of night
And cocks crowed from the rooftops steep;

Then dawn broke o’er the world below
And Gaia sighed delightedly,
To see those love-struck orbs a-go
A-waltzing off beyond the sea.

The Wedding (2 Sonnets)

Eros (Greek Cupid) and Anteros. Image: durango.net.mx

Eros (Greek Cupid) and Anteros.
Image: durango.net.mx

Wedding Invitation

I must confess my acumen is witless
To thwart the hex by which I am possessed,
To which these presents bear conclusive witness
By virtue of to whom they are addressed;
For though my want continues in delighting
To freely roam among the blooming flowers,
My will no longer finds the jaunt exciting,
My passion’s bent usurped by stronger powers;
For Anteros (the Greek) has worked injustice
And filled both she and I with like devotion,
And you alone, dear Cupid, my accomplice,
Can spite his dart and nullify the potion.
The wedding’s at the church beside the river,
Be sure to bring lead-arrows in your quiver!

Wedding Epilogue

Imagine, if you will, my situation,
Delivered by Anteros to the altar,
When prompted to assent the consecration
My spell-besotted tongue declined to falter!
Yet in that blessed moment of despair
A-heel of my I do’s reverberation,
Your leaden-arrow sped to my repair
And doused the flame of my infatuation.
Your second shot, dear Cupid, went askew,
And, missing my betrothed, it smote his reverence
Who, when my clarion Not! provoked ado,
Expressed his just approval of our severance:
My Son, he said, the devil has you fair,

But better damned in Hell than wed to her!

Spring Eternal

Eternal Love by Jahar Dasgupta

Eternal Love by Jahar Dasgupta

Spring Eternal

Upon the touch of Erin’s clement breeze
‘Cross beryl seas where vernal currents flow,
Through feldspar rime of winter’s icy freeze
Blooms verdant spring where lay the barren snow;
What bent pervades within those wisps a-fleet
Whose touch can pass so subtle and unfelt,
That with one kiss from Gaia’s lips so sweet
A season’s empire falls and glaciers melt;
But nature wrought in you her work’s increase
When I, in Uller’s bondage you did kiss,
And from the frosts of Holda’s field release
My love to blossom in your season’s bliss.
Now every day at dawn the swallows sing,
To cant the birth of yet another spring.

 

The Hunter

 

Orion--The Hunter

Orion–The Hunter

The Hunter

Take aim, o’ hunter, stretch your bow
Drawn tight on arrows flight,
And loose that star-tipped astral bolt
This hardened heart to smite;

To rend these wretched tower walls
For passion’s tortured cries,
To find release and be consumed
In your eternal skies;

Behold the sparkling sequined belt
That girths your hunter’s waist,
Those tiny sparks of glittering light
That transcend time and space;

From such a nebulae am I
Conceived in newborn suns,
My DNA is stardust-laced
My blood with sunlight runs;

Yet though my heart with passion swells
Your majesty to see,
Dark-matter rules this feeble soul
Blind mortal that I be;

So shoot your arrow true and swift
That virtue’s light may flow,
Transform the dark crypt of my mind
With passion’s starlit glow;

Then I will fill my quill to brim
Galactic mists I’ll fly,
To write about Orion’s Bow
Upon the parchment sky.