14 September 2010

"Poem XII" to be published

After entering it into the 2010 Poetry Rivals competition managed by Forward Press, "Poem XII - And so the world" (reprinted below) has been selected for publication.

The composition will be featured in Poetry Rivals' Collection 2010 - Whispers Of The Mind, scheduled for publication on 30 November 2010.


Poem XII - And so the world

 Influenced in no small part by Mr T. S. Eliot.


And so the world continues its languid dissolution,
and the hum hum, drums and wails drown all out;
whilst creeping along his bleary path, head-wingèd,
comes Hypnos and in train his progeny—

What whimpers will I give when Thánatos comes for me?—

Creeps:

the scent of ancient forests where hoary wizards roam in wisdom—
In his hollow-hillock covered in moss and lichen lives the hermit:

I am the one-man screaming, arms in upward fury, lambasting the silent sky;
the spectator, miserable and magnificent, spying happiness from corners.

But what if that reflection of sunlight on that tin could bring me
back to those carefree days in places long gone?
Back to relive—to relieve!—reword words not said
but meant!—so dearly

...meant....

His back: so bent!

I tarry here; tire of this place.
What lies beyond where the stars pine
and
—'bove?
—below?
—before?
—behind?
my mind?

Would that I could...

could just....

Take a moment!,
ye hurried masses;
take but one single moment!
And—

Behold:
A vista:

An afternoon of a dying sun
dispersing its golden sea of remains—
Azure sky and a painter's clouds.
What a marvel to see
(to be able to just see!)
the neo-Gothic tower and spire
Posturing Proudly, timelessly,
defying their makers
and all manacled man alike.

What will break my adamantine shackles!
I wish to handle my hollow universe!
And dare!—yes, dare!
Ha-hah!
I will dare!
and!...

Palsy: fell-come, my dear friend:
Do you too feel the heavy weight on my chest?
My heart tender is severely constricted!
and restricted!
My how restrained and pained I feel!
Damn It!:
It is merciless!
Damn This!:
This lace!

But do I still not wander?:
in secret fantasies of love
and in secret fantasies of life?

In these precious
reverie-memories;
sham remembrances:

Garden lights—
outside a modern Danish summerhouse
—under variegated twilight.

Childhood innocence in a sheltered school-world
Oh and all the little things that are for me
All the small and touchable things
All the things with noises
And flashing lights
My things
Mine

A horroromance with
my Lady of evenfall-breed,
enswathed in sepulchral ruched satin;
and a dead-of-night tryst:
We together hurrying away
to oblivion
in an ebon landau
drawn by daemon equine—
all the while flitting with ease
between lucidity
and lunacy;
between the ethereal

and idioreal:

So I ride as passenger;
the country-dark night-chill
—erstwhile besieger:
I dismiss apathetically
its clamouring for the world—
and it
now forgotten.

So I ride;
onwards!
on byways;
onwards!
on highways;
onwards!
on my ways.

So I:

I, ensconced in a seat that stokes warmth—
Come, dream!; come, sleep!

I, observing the unlit country in awe—
Come, mind!; come, psyche!

I, immersed In the Nightside Eclipse—
Come, memory!; come, reverie!

(Two glinting eyes: unshut;
two pricked ears: censorless;
but a smirk
and silence kept.)

M.M. — Februarius-Aprilis MMX

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