Poetry

Love is a warm, brass-orange buoy light, floating on the wine-dark sea (where sailors train for war in the commanding bosom of Poseidon).

---

The stars gallop into view.
I want to ride on your dreams
And swim in your ocean blue.

---

You shine like the salt stars of Pegasus,
Leaping straight into my dark blue heart.
But there will always be one more hurdle
To keep our constellations apart.

Tell me,
isn’t it tragic?
to open yourself up
like a museum,
to turn yourself
inside out, only
to have everything
stolen under the
night.
[Anthea Yang]

Who could ever see his light
And the soft glow of truth
If it weren't for the lamp shade
She provides fashionably
From the nearness of her heart.
And if she ever stopped
Playing dress up with his love
From that cold faraway place
We would never close in
On the warmth of her skin
And the profound rose
That lies between two lovers,
Filtering the passion in their eyes.

I saw the oblivion in her round eyes
And heard the endless pain in her wedding cries,
But every time she smiles softly
I'm touched by the basis of all noble lies.

---

Your face, sculpted by light, exceeds the sun
In brilliant expressions second to none.
And on that body the earth rests its care
So it might rise, boldly, beyond compare.

Everything sent with a woman is provided for
Because without lifting a finger she holds in store
The meaning of life you work so hard to unravel
From the face too soft for anything but time-travel.

Without thinking you're always centered in my mind,
Skirting the fine edges of everything I find
And smiling back at each piercing discovery
I make with a look that lends me recovery.

---

As I crash land into you
My world will always be new
With the wishes of the stars
To join Venus and her Mars.

The passion that rips you from your place
By its wavelike terrifying face
Appears at first like a proud lion
Rising on the shield of Orion
Before pouncing at last on its prey
From the dark trenches where horses neigh.

8-bit love:

Quote :

She transports us to new beginnings and ends
On a magic carpet she so kindly lends
From the rose gardens of her mean, thorny heart
Where men wander before being torn apart.

The kicked up dirt pours out like gold
In the lingering summer air.
And the plaits in your yellow hair
Tie this moment for fate to hold.

Her face is more reposed than a summer night
And softer than the touch of the moon's light.
And not even the gods' rich milk can soothe me
When I'm left laid out by sweet eternity.

---

Not everyone can read the silver writing
In her untranslatable, magnetic eyes.
But those of steel will who bounce back on a glance
Have their stories written in clear night skies.

---

You can feel the undercurrent of poetry
In everything she is about to say and do.
And it's at this intermediate point in time
That the words keeping her in place wash over you.

---

He has poetry in his purple blood
And her stained hands on his beating heart.
And the words that come like a fruitful flood
Wash clean the violence that grips art.

Everything is "cute" to her
As all things are close to her
And that small devouring mouth
Which says, "For sake of the South
Let me nibble on your ears,
Casting away all your fears
And we'll become butterflies
In the sharpness of your eyes."

---

With finesse, I turn the black and gold key
And slide like silver into my fierce car.
But there you are riding shotgun, smiling,
To steal this moment like a shooting star.

You're the metallic ocean of my dreams
And the silver strings littering the day.
And like with a moment of clarity
You arrive without standing in my way.

---

I believe in nothing but your deep blue eyes
Which see me through to the other side of you
Where your smiling face is something to behold
To everyone vanquished by the soft threshold.

I burn out for you, and my flaming fingers
Are cold to the touch like that Mercutio.
So keep laughing into the fire of me
My love and feel the white tips of eternity.

Were death so horrible that you wouldn't allow your soul to taste its own shadow and bite the face of fate which ever schemes for an open mouth?  Or so mean that you wouldn't let your heart embrace its own interior walls which lust for an unsolicited tongue and pant for a warm, misbehaving breath?  No, I think death were not so bad.  Death like nightmares are nothing.  Throw me into the darkness and let the shadows have their way.  Let the ghosts suck my pale skin dry.  Let the dead drown me with their grief and all past suffering.  Let the coffins of my ancestors open indecently in the well maintained gardens of midnight, letting the birds have another fill.  Let Lucifer mock me on account of being better off.  Further still, let me go face to face with terror's mangled head and let the impression make my being scream.  Scream until all that's left is a scream.  Until all the damned have one voice.  And let this never end.

But please, if you have mercy, do not throw me into bottomless pool of you, where the light dances on ripples of time and splashes of innocence encourage the happy moment.  Where smiles are immortalized with each dying glance.  Where gold buys nothing but laughter and laughter turns all to gold.  Where flaws like moles stand out as rocks in the milky ocean to resist the constraints of a pure beauty, adding to the texture of eternity.  Where freckles, increasing with repeated sun exposure, increase the value of light and the sensitive nature of being.  Where the transition from summer to fall is one of both panic and celebration as the brittle life of a leaf is bronzed forever.  Where our hearts never stop falling in love with the deep wrinkles which mock time.  Where she keeps an infinite distance an inch away from our face and not even an inch, but just then does the air become flavorful; it tastes like destiny.  Where the flowers, blowing from her hair, ride the directionless wind until finding the soft ground of our heart.  Where the dawn like a cruel mistress tortures us with an unattainable beauty, but we, good and faithful warriors of the rose, rise again and again to the occasion.  Where a knight, through the slit of his visor, sees a high definition display of steel and silver, and, brandishing his blade, cuts through the noisy images of the day.  Where Ireland is never so green as in the vivid imagination of its proud, fighting people where colors are continuously clashing.  Where life on the edge never stops moving, and the moment before we fall is never so still.  Where our bride motions to us from the cliffs, and we, already being married, do renew our vows-to sail on. Where fate and home always surround us with the question of our demise.  And where the stars are always answering without a word.

No, please, if you have mercy don't throw me there.
It's far, far too much for one mortal to bear.

Love's lonely imperatives:

To hold the flame in silence.
To keep her wishes in line.
To whip the sun into light.
To wash the moon of its grease.
To turn back time on a dime.
To water the past with joy.
To grow up with a smile.
To meet on the rainbow bridge.
To slide into victory.
To star in the morning play.
To 'member the lines that stick.
To dance on moments of dew.
To dry out in dreamy hair.
To press through the clear threshold.
To arrive back in her eyes.
To wrestle with what she is.
To know why without knowing.
To die by your beloved.
To live in the memory.
To return eternally.
To run through the dark forest.
To match the sound of her voice.
To echo in the twilight.

It returns to me! It returns to me!
That same quick arrow of eternity.
I'm once again doubled in her trouble
But yet dancing free as a soap bubble.

You're the deep orange background of my raving will
And the reddish gold leaves that hang ever so still
From the far-reaching branches of an old oak tree
Where time falls away as you fire back at me.

You're a night of dark, rogue trees confessed
And the cypress silently at rest
On the edge of a deep loneliness
That still looks down on all hopelessness.

Quote :

"The rains have come and gone.
The millet grew and now is stubble
nibbled by stags while jasmine blossoms flourish
alongside, their buds unfolding to show white petals
like a wildcat’s smile.
Evening comes, scented with jasmine
bringing bees to the buds,
but see, he hasn’t come,
he who left for other riches..." [Okkur Macatti, Kuruntokai, verse 220]

A woman of untold grace begins to flip...

Her eyes have lost all grip on reality.
Her body runs away from her better half.
Her voice cracks under the stress of poetry.
Her skin screams at the first thought of being touched.
Her nails dig into beauty's unconcerned face.
Her want pulls her down into the black pudding.
Her stomach feasts on every charming moment.
Her bones dance to the sound of the yawning swamp.
Her dreams linger in the polluted green air.
Her heart no longer aches but nervously shakes.
Her mind leaves her face feeling empty and lost.
Her love is a memory quickly forgot.
Her loyalty follows the next sweetest wind.
Her lips whisper gossip until all is sour.
Her song rings out in the creaking of a door.
Her spell captivates would be hunters no more.
Her smile bends back time like a confused old clock.
Her trembling hands grab at balance and just miss.
Her house collects dust from the unsettled past.
Her mop is haunted by discontinued use.
Her cauldron bubbles but without the right juice.
Her time is precious yet dissolves for no one.
Her cup is full of wine that lacks that dark shine.
Her nights are drunk on everything but the stars.
Her light, fading from view, misses the deep blue.
Her life turns upside down when he's not around
And just then does she find her true self unbound.

I've been reading The Iliad ever since OhFortunae recommended it. I decided to get the Finnish version, but now this text has so old phrases/words I need the English translation to understand what the hell is going on. For example:

Vaan liki joukkoa joukko kun ehti jo, eell' esirintaan
iliolaisten Aleksandros jumaluhkea astui,

Even google couldn't help me find out what "jumaluhkea" meant, jumala = god , uhkea = grand, voluptous. Then I read the English version and it helped me understand:

When, host to host opposed, full nigh they stood,
Then Alexander in the Trojan van
Advanced was seen, all beauteous as a God;


I don't like this that its easier to understand in foreign language, or that is just simplified English. Didn't shakespeare wrote much different, harder to understand words/phrases?

I have the same; I have the Iliad and Odesseus from my father's youth in Dutch, but the English translation is much more smooth to go through. I guess English is a language with a more tolerant character due to universal influence and usage, less population dependend; hence globalist love it so much.

The transition from one color to another in a series metaphors relating to human experience, if done well, lays the brickwork for brighter creations as would be creators read over the rainbow lines. And what is brighter than man? Oh, that he might be calm and clear enough to see the silver spring of flashing colors and have the steel to paint the universe over in liquid eternity. That he could see the illuminated coat of the black panther who slips unnoticed through the night like a shooting star you're not sure you've seen. And who similarly ignites the heart to wonder in silence. That he could see, in a translucent blade of grass, the nurturing fog of green light which scatters through a falling emerald prism on the empty horizon before landing back home again, fully diffused in the aurora. And that he could see, in the dense forest, his roots at rest. That he could see, under her red dress, infinite layers of roaring fire, and, without looking, pass the lion's test. And in the next hushed blink fan the dying embers. That he could see the yellow taxi picking up strangers on sunset boulevard and dropping them off lighter and friendlier than before. And that he could see, coming from the damp gutters, a deep orange glow where his soul always returns. That he could see death around every corner holding a blue flower. And that he could see a new beginning ever circling in her cool eyes.

That he could see the soft, purple elegance
Of dark evening clouds as they roll up to dance.

Graceful in your countenance as you are in your imperfections, it is the endurance, the Sheer resilience that accentuates your essence, that knows no bounds.
Boundless indeed you are that deepens my selfishness for you that you would be lost
In oblivion or discover another rock with more
Tantalizing details that would offer better potential in becoming something beyond itself,
Your hardships, and pains and suffering are
More beautiful than any song sung by any siren or any cloud swept sky lolling over the
Pillars of sunlight.
Because of your acceptance and strength to succeed them, to succeed yourself
Because of the lovely way in which you keep them with you
Never inhibiting you or Compensating for you.
The lovely stride as totally conscious of it as you are natural to it as one would be to an
Old friend in a palaver.
Your steadfastness as conflicted as it may be, softens the edges of your spirit and all that Grated it,
And you become further refined into what
Truth and beauty are meant as,
Even in my own uncertainty I am incapable of acknowledging any tree able to bear
Such an artistic variety of fruits.
The substance of you places all other possibilities to shame and this makes you an
Even brighter light shining in the abyss of their disgrace,
I care not the fluctuating degrees of intensity of your internal conflicts as they are
Immediately given the lovely hues of your awareness that keeps
You apart from all others destined to be predictable.
In this world where flowers die and seeds are uncultivated and beauty is trapped into
A dirty over used well, And,
Regardless of the costs, or the sacrifices or the normal instinctive desire to forget,
I cannot forget you.
The separation of your existence from the existence I abhor can never go unnoticed,
I cannot deny the uniqueness of your place in this world and my appreciation for it,
And thus I can never be unappreciative of you.
You are one of the few that remains to give me hope and motivation where there is none
And even if I have not your presence,
Your thought will burn forever in me and fill me with the needed
Conviction that you are incomparable, that you have a place similar to mine, but still your own,
That i give you my heart because no one else deserves it and because i discard all
reservations about keeping it secluded or callus,
That there are none like you,
No matter my fate or yours.

She unfolds like a dream in the light of day,
Spreading those wings in the perfumed air of May.
Over a festival of flowers she flies
Upwards to embrace his calmly brimming eyes.

---

I wake up every day to find your soft face
Resting like a dream that the sun can't erase.
And as I go in for a quick, stealthy kiss
Your eyes open to greet the incoming bliss.

---

The moment I saw you my life was complete
With the meaning of the rose and its warm heat.
No longer a man but one released in love
To go beyond man like the bright stars above.