Saturday, 15 December 2012

Sombre Reflection

“The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places. But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

Friday, 14 December 2012

Crazy Like A Raging Sea...

Crazy like a raging sea...

Crazy like a raging sea
that rolls in heaving peeks,
and slaps upon me endlessly
each vessel moans and creaks;
Beneath the howling tempests gale
the seething foments touch,
your fiery wind, that bursts my sail,
and luffs upon the crutch.

Full fathom five,
you pulled me from the wreck alive
and threw me on some distant shore
upon our bones we chew and gnaw.
Full fathom five,
you pulled me from the wreck alive
and all the years we cast about
were flooded tears to drown the doubt.
Full fathom five
you pulled me from the wreck alive
and here we lay betwixt the sheets
these sails full blown are now replete.
Full fathom five
you pulled me from the wreck alive
then down we two who charged the fates
will pass between the pearly gates.
Full fathom five
you pulled me from the wreck alive
I would have drowned were not for you
you would have burned, I saved you too.

This ocean we are cast within
it roars in might and thunder
emotions tumult, surging din,
we threaten to go under.
Yet soothed, climactic tempests peek
is shattered in a kiss
and calms each vessel soiled and weak
orgasmically in bliss.

I love you like a raging sea
full fathom five, for you love me.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Tuesday, 11 December 2012

Dust to Dark

-Dust to Dark-

This roaring tide of great love
the malady of sadness left inside
caught between the hawk and the dove
not knowing in which room we ought to hide.

Silence, overwhelming the moment
time dropping through an open slit
a wound, through which the memories trickle
splash the present, drip by drip,
to fall into a quiet solemnity of passing feeling,
sown together again in this dark retrieving.

The gentle choice, of each great love
the cleansing of the house, proud martin,
to know, what one must dispose of, and keep,
the beat, revivifying hearts in parting.

Making space, in the fracture of that place,
the settling of old fears, the packing of the boxes,
the tearful remnants of all those bygone years
the hounding of the foxes,
swept from off the benches and the tables
the cleansing of those Augean stables.

Hoarded clutter in those treasure chests
guarded with such firm resolve, night and day,
fiery hearts, wept within the beating breasts,
washed from off the surfaces, warily swept away.

The living remnants of all great loves
carefully honoured and wrapped,
with grace, remembrance of the gift thereof,
each diamond kissed and packed.
The curtains are drawn as the light invades,
silence from the dawn ekes between the cracks,
all is saved.

The herald of a brand new day,
is born upon a lark,
the nightingale is packed away,
its song is dust to dark.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012