…
…
„As She Falleth — The Prelude”
ruby red
tawny orange
and ochreous yellow
leaves like petals
keep on falling
summertime’s
swan song
has been sung
some of them
come from yester-era;
hither they are
reposing on the ground
and she beholds herself
falling as well
descending at a slow pace
with them — for them
as there truly isn’t
a solitary scenery
more bewitching to surround
yet will she ascend again?
„Birds Of The Forest”
'October Rust' and the redolent scent of November
prepend to her nostalgia;
the wind’s indiscernible diaphanous margins
still seem to play your common tunes
— gothic rock is the genre
I still do remember and my mind does recognize
the fetching liaison declaration
to have been said by her cherished man
in the very same of the fragrant woods
she is taking dull steps through now
grieving that once mutual sensation;
her lament over the lack of the shared enchantment
— they are ancient just like those tree crowns;
all the ravens and all the crows
are sitting on the almost bared branch
and laughing less or more mutely at her
notwithstanding cerebrating of you
with this her heart like a dove — whiter than white
'sing me a tweenlight, prithee — a sister of passage'
— as every vocalist is hushed post the wish
the poetess treads through the vale of days past;
nonvocal her lips part as her feet kiss the dust;
plethora harked; nix in stone carved
yet so speaks the mind:
'what shall one human being tweet me this time?'
„The Wooden Arbor”
until wee small hours once more
with the further ink spilled
and the veil of heat from the teacup
she is dwelling companionless
claimed to have been assured
thought to have been secured
yet the memories so powerful
are scratching the wood
with the quantity of galore
what a pity that those memories
aren’t made merely by these hearts
you used to carve in those high trees
and who would have thought
that just a plain arbor
made of the identical planks
could become the throwbacks’ harbor
and be so full of splints?
the girl adust certes no more be
whether it’s as brill as her dreams
vivid and luminous
but her mind keeps on
being stubborn as a mule
nothing new — nothing new at all
chiefly during the sojourn of the moon
— the one on a stick is her dwam so pure...
„As The Stars Align”
the hood raught its grand overcast
and the sole licht abided
are stars at their brightest aloft the fantast;
they seem to revive their gardens fine
of once made love and mysteries not to divide;
the whole nine yards of what would lie beneath —
to discern and extol the vault of heaven
— the wild skylight;
and alow the lovers during the act of darkness
to enlighten in a rite as the moans
are harked by the night;
the earthly cupola of two shades
— the pitch-black and the milk-white;
one — the pulchritude of eventide;
the other — those bijou celestial bodies shine
though she sees just one that is sparkling
twinkling and winking only at her
— once it glints and once it’s done;
those both states last only a while so ephemeral
and now she’d only dream in those two colors
and all her senses so close to heaven
so no cloud banks, so no thunders
seem to ever have the orb threatened
‘away with the fairies to have our alliance beheld fore;
inscribed in them at the moment; the starburst shores'
— a prophetess or artless to the core is she
due to the heavenly gem’s presence
and its alleged lore come long prolonged?
„The Futuristic Insomniac”
her bed and its sheets
have been her refuge
endeared for many years
whether she felt alone or her anxiety got huge
it seems to be such night again today
but she will wait for a while postponing the slumber
it really seems to be
the same again
though the poison ivy
that once had brought her down
was already cut
so your insomnia — how come?
her mother would plainly lecture
'time to sleep my baby girl'
but she will gift her another stare
the next and the further and a separate one as well
to the phone’s lock screen
glistening even without having it touched
'what a f****** whim
of the twenty first century’s girl
it is man — right?!'
„The Anticipated Melody”
‘and staring like a fool
at the latest smartphone now of my own
with that weird yet such hopeful thought
— it all wasn’t in vain nor wrong‘
it’s unbelievable how the sounds
of the current technology
astonish and galvanize her
evoke
the seemingly ancient ghosts
bygone
will they carry something refreshing?
will they bring the power of true love to light?
or will they have her bleed down at their feet
cursing and begging for none of them had come?
the anticipated melody rings and it rings
though the tune is brand new itself
her heart already knows it and it sounds senile
still electrifies
nonetheless what it escorts at this point
and where it is going to guide
she has no clue about yet for sure
the euphony’s tone ahead of time…
„All Talk (And No Action)”
you were the one to say that
in the place you had been standing in
waves immediately crashed
one by one
just like your heart
with its pieces
as you claimed
when you wanted to give up
on dialing her number
but then doing it got it saved
‘wish you were here with me
or me with you out there’
you balmily said
with your persuasion
and with your manipulation
having it outrun
I guess you wanted her
to be amazed
mesmerized
like with the touch of a magic wand
standing ovation — well done
„Young Lady Ambivalent”
she will repeat herself
again of course
the resounding catchphrases
about how she wasn’t wrong
about how she knew about this
then oncoming call
from her constantly valued love
for so long unheard
but she must grow up
and wonder
if those words have
any
just any worth
think twice this time my baby girl
„The Breakfast Hour’s Presumptions”
no food’s pieces
tasted the same
since the sidereal day before
she shall ask you to bring back
the perfect start of her own
but instead she does to make
the potential benefits
of your last night’s call
to outweigh
the possible sorrow
„The Third Coffee”
there are two
already drunk without you
one mind says
'there shouldn’t even have been one'
the second wants
that score
to be outdone
„Lunar Doubts”
another nightertale to materialize
by dint of the blue sky’s embrace
with the blackest of shrouds
preceded by the nacarat eventide
and as a glance of significance she bestowed
upon the yellow moon
that had hung large on the dome
she suspired with her pending soul
and did questionnaire the lunar silhouette
‘where did my love go? where is my home?’
for the reason that hither a further saying
as an emblem considered again
— goes this way less or more;
'your place is where your heart stays'
so the spare pieces of dubiety surge in her mind;
unsundered onto her raspberry lips applied they are;
unleashed discordant they resound out loud;
'shall she take the risk? shall she flee? shall she flow?
what’s been written in the stars within the era nocturnal?
how come not a wolf, yet the moonshine does vocalize?'
in view of the eens eldritch and eerie beheld bygone
hence she pins her faith and trust devotedly;
in the dark stays still as so would arise her conviction
— at heart to in no time sick at heart metamorphose
all sweetness and light unless-…;
all sweetness and light until-…
...
„Hypervigilant”
it is still quite rare
to be travelling to the seaside
during the heart of fall
and its being so desperate
although it doesn’t matter
as even if there was a summer season
and crowds reaching there
there would be no problem
for her to find you
as her heart does in every person
she meets wherever she goes
the girl so vigilant
purportedly
still likes having you overdosed
just like the remaining summerbreeze
and oh, good Lord
your mastery over her soul
implausible — unimaginable
as though she was unwhole herself
her self-scorn as the mention
of you laudable and once resonates acted upon
— the soundness of hers does re-mold
…
„Reflections From The Ticket Office”
squeezing the ticket
in her hand
still with confusion
yet she has decided;
for this again she will go
no matter where
you will have
your common life guided
hopefully that voyage
won’t be
just a regrettable seance
of disillusionment — disheartening
maugre being at cross-purposes
lurking like back-cloth stars
— is it more dangerous
on or off the beaten track?
„The Witching Hour's Trek”
covering the duskiness of the distance
in her mind less or more disarming
bonny landscapes are being passed by;
with only one package
she’s travelling through the night
pipe dreaming imaginative;
rising upon your gothic castles in Spain
— divers of them are in the air tonight
though the interregnum's occurrence
whilst casting the hiatus-spell for this hallucination
she practices contemplating about
the denouements of rainbows
contending like in trance
with her flights of fancies
tilting at windmills meantime
her battles — all the lost causes themselves
pinned are all her hopes
to the choice to give you two
an ensuing chance;
to have it all repaired and mended to the best
for it will be worth trying — the behoof
for it won’t dismay;
that it wasn’t too meteoric
too naïve
and within the bond
of so many penumbrae
one hemisphere
— the specters of ephialtes
and the other
— romanticized verities
underneath the halved
moonlit illumination
in the course
of the witching hour
for to the precarious excursion
the bona fide course leads
...
„The Window Seat — I”
staring through this pane
her fingerprints reflected on it
a further field and another forest
— the crossed miles
and she is thanking her God
with persistently cool hands
kissed and folded
that every single station light
every hour's run
brings her closer and closer
to you
because she’d rather
fondle your facial shape
than this gelid glazed space
noticing only her light-weight breath
as she gets closer occasionally
to look out in case the train had to stop
she would love the fenestra to be
your warm chest instead
to have her head laid upon
and the homeliest
snuggly heat already known
for her subtle skin to be exposed
…
„Longing’s Quiddity”
'one I know for sure;
whatever is biding for us post our gathering anew
won’t transpire to be immediately facile
for neither me nor you
just like during the very first time
what's bygone and what's adjacency
I’ve been taught to cede the past
now neither of those out of this heavy set
will leave me be lone
and maybe it’s a supervenient time to grow
to stand up even taller
but tonight I feel as small as a minuscule
the midnight of my fortitude satiated will come
yet this one I’m not psyched up to unbridle the sorrow
to let it go as another thing so certain
emerges in my subconsciousness
— 'morrow I will wake up and arise lonesome
with all these compelling thoughts
and in general as well
I will survive and endure — I know I can
but what is the exact way — the right path to follow
to what is coming next?
in peace I just want to drowse — at the minimum, my gem'
„Her Father’s Tale”
all of a sudden
the retrospect of her papa
and his significant stare
deadly serious
and his pointing finger high
when his speech solemnly announced
so meaningful she had never even imagined
never taken it to her own heart
he had told her she had needed a man
who would have always taken care of her
and their house built by him for his only baby
from foundations to the roof
not the one who would have made her be in any doubts
transcending himself into ruthlessness overload
and being contagious about such feature, too
as that her ticker had always been so frangible
especially when it came to her ardent endearment
of which it had always been the river’s overflow
and when the first fight for her love
had to be ended by giving in from her side
to keep herself sane
though she strived to keep the battle on
claiming it had been otherwise
the girl tried her best so many times
but turned all too much
and her heart was leaden heavy
when the ancestor’s pride
of them oh so well
was quivered
as she had to announce
how it exactly had been in real
fairytale
into scaretale
no solace then
— and none now
„The Crescented Remembrance”
though times change
and it is obvious that
the moon with its mastery
at variance reigns in the skies
in reveries it always passes there
as a circle of completeness
arises every single twilight
and dusk to dawn persists in being nigh
it does delight and frighten — it does hunt and haunt
all the time has contradictory teardrops diffused
the nightfalls and their different sprouted aromas
to remind her of the ones
spent with you
when the eminent bleached orb of the night’s glare
was helping undress
your bodies bare
and those when
she was tearing herself apart
the maiden so sheepish
and no more unspoilt
reminded of the improper reveal
of her heart she hath
the glowing moon as either
the glowing gloom or the glowing bloom
once shedding radiance
on her tantalizing bosom and her womb
once glinting her tears
entwined in cascades of pools
the linn of the lambency
she was its inamorata devotee
she was its tragedienne
„Affairs Of The Seeress's Heart”
and there’s again its company
the heavenly body like croissant
just one its half — only one part
and she can relate
as her wistful hanker for the other one
for her own in there is to be found
enlightened affairs of the heart
once she portrays herself
as the auspicious ardor-paradisal seer
reputedly pouring out
the sweetest honeyed tears of her life
allegedly they will dance all the nights away
the ones when they were dimming the light
together at the same time
and post factum their hands
in a common embrace
the ones when the moon dimmed her mind
the frayed ones with hindsight
she makes them be of damnation
for nothing but to obliviate
by bringing such scenarios
and getting them back on track
yet they are bound
to be re-written
by those two no more benighted hearts
shedding fresh golden sparkles
from the blackest of bygone tides
…
„Semi-Reached Destination”
the longevous machine’s door cracks open
releases her to touch the dissimilar soil
underneath her feet
yet to look above and discern
the very same empyrean
'destinies are bound like constellations'
she repeats with her hands folded
now that she is getting out of the train
she hopes this journey
by the end of her stay
won’t have been claimed
to be covered all in vain
yet she claims to be ready for everything
assures all the astra
about her plan so godlike and extraordinary
'you — my Orion
and I — the Eos of yours
I will take away all the blindfolds
I will have you rescued
from all the fluorescence
threatened to be unseen by thee'
nothing done — everything elfin
…
„Daylight (Haiku)”
‘the whitening horizon and the old coast
with a morning summerbreeze
this is what I need — what I need the most’
„The Blue-Skied Eagerness”
missing your Stygian-colored leather jacket
around her wispy clavicles and arms
and maybe one of two of your own
as from the seaside’s gelid wind whistling
the safeguard
step by step taken on the sabulous beach
she is lovelessly catechizing herself about thee
whether you were standing here
where she is beholding lapis lazuli waters now
if you felt what she spellbindingly senses
if you verily still believe like she doth trow
that your worlds gleefully reconcile
despite what you’ve experienced
— even for an ephemeral while
she has been to many magnetic places
in her still epigrammatic life by the most recent span
but finding herself in your grip so tight
beats them all at their own game
the prepossessing love utopia on her mind
you and her as the love bottomless ocean’s aeons
limitless and ne'er to divide
„Seashells”
combing for seashells
she finds all the time
so many glorious of them
these are glowing
and look so distinctive
these are perfect
special in their own way
with their beauty overflowing
but there are also ones
shredded into pieces
'oh how I wish
you would want to dwell
in such one’s light
forever and ever’
„Birds Of The Seaside”
even seagulls are reminding her to ween of him
Kup książkę, aby przeczytać do końca.