drukowana A5
Asking The Moonlight

Bezpłatny fragment - Asking The Moonlight

130 str.
za 14.7
drukowana A5
za 38.08

„As She Falleth — The Prelude”

ruby red

tawny orange

and ochreous yellow

leaves like petals

keep on falling


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


the seemingly ancient ghosts


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


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


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-…



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


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


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


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

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za 14.7
drukowana A5
za 38.08