King Canute
FinsburyParkCarrots
Posts: 12,223
King Canute
Gneiss plucked out from reeded sands:
Hornblende, feldspar, mica bands.
Arc-collision-ocean-thrown.
Now the crudejawed wall is down
that fenced the whitewashed castle in;
Atlantic waving charges win
the packed high climb of crystaline
That claimed man's need to redefine
The stop of coasts. Let time command.
Love gives redress. Place down your hand.
Gneiss plucked out from reeded sands:
Hornblende, feldspar, mica bands.
Arc-collision-ocean-thrown.
Now the crudejawed wall is down
that fenced the whitewashed castle in;
Atlantic waving charges win
the packed high climb of crystaline
That claimed man's need to redefine
The stop of coasts. Let time command.
Love gives redress. Place down your hand.
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Siltsabled rivulets incline
Loveled to where the ocean knows:
No joys repine.
And in the greening breakers where
the currents rise beyond Dooagh
an echoed shadowed light lives there:
Andromeda!
The taste of night and glycerin
and feel your body rising, warm
and living, as I move within.
I love the dream of touch that moves
Desire to the rushing wave
of seas beyond each peak that loves
to stretch beyond all joys and have
the touch of freedom's deepest flow!
I move the dream within you now.
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
massing dorsal plains, fins adance:
the foragers
turn in surf.
Ocean forests breathe
between the grooves of twenty throats
and
whitened viscous curves
eternally splay,
endless in sunlight,
burbling vistas of foam.
Then, gyrating masses splash back
tendril orbits of reed
and giddy jellyfish,
sending each spinning, current-bound
from under whipping flukes.
Together they forage, these dancers,
by social instinct.
Together, they are tasking this sharing of krill.
in darkness, in the valley of grapes and plums and citrus trees..
i am toasted beyond belief yet i can describe the scene,
however dark, however drear, as the chasm o'er which one should not peer..
my loves have arrived and gone by the path of lost ecstasy,
so beautiful and sweet...
and my life was at one time electricfied and blissful,
so now it is less so;
looking out upon the dark dessert of this valley,
i find solace,
i see someone approaching,
not from some miracle..
and yet, from some corner of my rapidly beating heart that is yet to consume the fire and spirit she can offer,
so as to return three times to her..
she is my lovely kindred spirit and she is near...
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
his shattered staff rolled by the foam;
his gown of stars soaked by the stretch
of tidefoam to his weakened arm.
He shields his eyes and sees the black
that pictures death's cacophony:
A new cry has him turning back:
This late? Love's next epiphany?...
Inspiring poetry, my friend.