Friday, 29 October 2010

The Fire at Night

The Fire at Night

It is as if the starry night itself has transmitted its cool evocation into your flaming soul, and you lick at the stars as they twinkle upon your brightness, splaying themselves between the flickering light of your orange flame, tinged with the purple hours of silence; The spaces between the waves, the remnants of the forgotten embers, that feed the flickering fire in the numbing cold of that fallen place.

Space...without a trace of you, seems endlessly blue. Yet the deep blue canvas of that emptiness, beckons a palette of golden light, filled with flame, searing into the stark sky; licking at the torment, with blood hot notes in luminescent hues.

Scorching tongues of effulgence, snapping at the blues. Whirling streams of white hot schemes, and denizens of rancid dreams, torn from the corpulent mass of the fractured reams of sententious artisans, whose only fire was that stolen from the funeral pyre of this love.

Someone should have mentioned, that as the log burns to ashes, the flaming phoenix arises, and devours the remnants of the darkness in resplendence...arisen, the dawn awakens. Shafts of fire, slick upon the landscape of this hidden desire, forge transcendence, with flaming wings of sapphire and gold, rings, not for the timid but the bold.

Arise! hearken through incandescent eyes, and see the fiery wreath devoured, beneath the luminescent skies, blazing in the glory of that resplendent dawn, on wings replete, no longer sullied and torn, nor boiled within the cauldrons pit, but power, unfurled, to crack the mordant's spit. To smash the remnants of that vanquished foe, beneath the blazing sun, a testament of every righteous blow.

Yet-lo, on wings reforged in dying embers below, grace redoubles itself, and in gentle strength sweeps away the ragged teeth of that spark'd place, and settles for a while, to hold with trembling hand a humbled face.

No power comes by light of day, nor bares the chastened heart, without forgiveness in loves sway, reborn in loves sweet art; Yet those that seek the fires wealth, the sacrificial game, prepare your heart in times of health, or reap devouring flame.

© Richard Michael Parker 2010


Sunday, 24 October 2010

Crazy Love

Crazy Love

Stormy skies in huddled masses,
brood between the mountain passes,
The silver winged Garuda,
this carrier of the just,
set down upon a distant land,
of tremor, fear and trust.

The action born of courage,
with love, for all to see,
brought close the fiery maiden,
to her man of fate, and free,
But she had fled to other realms,
for fear was sown without,
a rancour born of other whims
instilled in her dark doubt.

Some agent of malevolence,
had whispered in her ear,
with tawdry psychobabble,
born of jealousy and fear,
it set her own fears racing,
of a time set in the past,
where cloistered manacles,
had suffered liberty made fast.

And so she ran, and hid from grace,
though he be filled with love,
and fled unto a secret place,
his own true morning dove.
He looked for her, both night and day,
yet naught would he have found,
until designed to fly away,
'the fates', will, would redound.

For kismet would not be denied,
nor fail for love and courage,
and so in deep regret and sighs,
they both converged to assuage,
the deep and dark malevolence,
that rancour had instilled,
and set it right, to meet perchance,
the salve of hearts fulfilled.

He wandered back, through drizzled rain,
his heart was rent asunder,
and though he loved her endlessly,
he knew her flight was thunder,
for it had crashed within his soul,
and lightening struck his mind,
he was resigned, to let her go,
for all of loves sweet kind.

You see, he knew this one great truth,
that true love knows no shackles,
it comes from out a place of couth,
a gift that fires and crackles.
It flows between, two free souls,
and makes of them one heart,
the fire, it feeds on mutual coals,
the warmth of loves deep art.

For she too, found her troubled mind,
did wander for a while,
so off she sped, some things to find,
to pass the time in style,
and led by fate, she left that place
to walk into the night,
to seek some solace and some grace,
and calm this wretched fright.

Some great and over arching force,
looked down upon two lovers,
and moved the fated lovers course,
from forlorn, to each others.
At first, he was not sure,
the night was wet, the lights were dim,
he blinked in disbelief, then called,
she stopped, and turned towards him.

He staggered for a moment,
on that corner in the rain,
so long his beaten heart,
had simply echoed out her name,
then all at once, there she stood,
before him in the flesh,
a little tremulous, discreet,
corporeal none the less.

His beating heart resounding,
his words they came, but lightly,
her own dear heart was pounding,
yet fear had gripped it tightly,
but all at once, in loves true light,
the reticence, it tumbled,
at first the eyes, and then the arms,
into each others, stumbled.

So on that fateful cornered night,
two doves both born of love,
did find themselves betwixt the light,
that shone from realms above,
to bring both hearts again in joy,
together, through dark milieu,
and shine into each heart-filled eye,
loves golden light, twas once blue.

They held each other tightly,
on the corner of that road,
a meeting place of minds and souls,
to lighten loves dark load.
To free again the truth they new,
when first they did perceive,
the flowering of loves first heart,
they thought would never leave.

Then hearkening, she did depart,
trepidation though, remained,
for neither had returned the art,
their lips were never stained,
with all the truth,
that only lovers know is in their kiss,
forsworn, forsooth,though fate had bent,
the kismet kiss was missed.

Two days of sufferance and silence,
both lovers did endure,
he sought divine guidance,
she pondered loves detour,
what were the odds that they should meet,
upon that fateful hour,
the dark and dim rained cornered street,
illumined like a flower.

Yet all dark rancour, was not as yet,
cast off, and set aside,
for evil had her ear beget,
and born it full with pride,
she would not reconcile her trust,
nor answer his sweet plea's,
for fear in her was wound and trussed,
from distant shores disease.

Determined now to not abandon love,
nor his sweetheart,
he asked for wisdom from on high,
from whence he was to start,
and woke after a fitful dream,
and settled on his course,
to win beloved's honeyed stream,
lest both live out remorse.

He booked his flight on silver wings,
then gathered up 12 Roses,
and sped off to her haunted springs,
to shine the love with poses.
He did not hesitate
or wait for anyones permission,
he simply stormed the gate,
and wrestled on without contrition.

Past the armored guard,
that waited down below in pairs,
onward through the gates,
up through the corridors and stairs,
until at last before her place of work,
he found himself,
two guardians before the door,
to deem him worthy of loves wealth.

The final test was won,
and so he entered her sweet gate,
and told her he had come,
to give her love and not berate,
she sat there stupefied,
that he had mastered every trial,
and found her in that lonely place,
armed only with a smile.

She baulked a moment,
then found her courage had returned,
and rose to leave the foment,
to seek some salve from that which burned,
for in her heart, conflicted fires,
the evil crop of jealous seeds,
were fearfully enticed again,
entranced in her to bleed.

He stopped upon descending stairs,
and beckoned her by name,
she turned, to find 12 roses,
and a heart wrought full aflame,
yet gentle were his words, and deeds,
with patience and with poesy,
she took the blooms her heartfelt needs,
her cheeks full flush and rosy.

They crossed the street,
and sat inside a cafe for a while,
two hearts did beat,
with wonder of loves power, gift and guile,
each took a hand, and gently,
all sombre doubt was slain,
cast down into the pit of hate,
where rancour will remain.

There eyes were locked, in seas they swam,
while lips embraced completely,
and sumptuously slipped
upon the shores that tasted sweetly,
with moaning sighs, and tears, and tongues,
two lovers knew the truth,
that God, and fate, attracted both,
there bodies were the proof.

No words, or foul demonic deeds,
could separate this beauty,
no pseudo-analytic seeds,
could breach loves honored duty,
for even if a 1000 miles,
be wrought between these lovers,
the kiss of truth, embracing love,
is found beneath their covers.

The doubts and fears were shattered,
and departed from the scene,
in haste, loves passion entered,
washing spite and hurt all clean,
and filled both hearts with hope,
that they might loyally endure,
the separated nights,
to persevere, with love made pure.

So once again,
he left on winged steed into the day,
In trust, to God and fate,
there love would find a way,
To recall, faithful Penelope,
her loyalty so true,
remembering the Odyssey,
that modern days still brew.

My love do not forget my eyes,
nor how my lips then tasted,
do not, forlorn, sink down in cries,
or think this love is wasted,
remember how these actions,
reverberated in your heart,
and faithfully recall our love,
embraced, with kiss, to start.

For i will live forever,
in that heart-filled blessed day,
the intimacy of swimming eyes,
will never go away,
and nor will you within my soul,
my one true fated lover,
for each of us, in each, made whole,
in deeds, souls, minds, each other.

© Richard Michael Parker 2010