Thursday, February 25, 2010

The Lady Afloat

I sat once upon the mute stone
that stares cold by the river bank
I sat ere the sun had shone
hailing a day so morbid dank

I sat in hush in deathly still
I saw the pale moon softly die
I saw those empty hours fill
the chasm of an undead sky

Then a dawn; a pallid dawn
of feeble rays with fading glow
Casting charnel shapes upon
the dying mist's fervid brow

And with that light of dreary gloom
She came in like a painted boat
A flower faded in its bloom
Asleep in death a lady afloat

Her nightly hair was led astray
By wanton weeds in the water gray
Her closed eyes they seemed to say
'Alas this is my only way'

Her breasts did swell with tears unshed
Of silent grief of hidden shame
And a thousand pains that love hath fed
To a thousand souls that have no name

What vow unkept what heart was broke
What vile soul did play deceit
What word delivered that deadly stroke
that crushed her heart with dreams so sweet

Perhaps he died a hero's death
in battle that waged in lands unseen
Perhaps he fell in foreign earth
ere she could count moons sixteen

Did she give her heart in vain
to some Adonis set in stone?
Did he tell her in words so plain
that his heart was his alone?

I stare as the hours rolled
She drifts so still like a painted boat
Her tale of woe stays untold
She fades away the lady afloat

Monday, February 15, 2010


O Ithaca, fair Ithaca when will I see
Your gold hemmed coast skirting the sea
Where Poseidon rests his wrath asleep
Where mermaids gambol, frolic and leap

O Ithaca, fair Ithaca farthest out to sea
When will I rove like the wind free
kissing with lust your ears of corn
drink from your streams and be reborn?

When will I ravish your bountiful groves?
Delve and hunt through your delightful coves
Impale wild beasts with my steady spear
Your sighs whispered by the wind in my ear

When will I drink the crimson wine
aged sweet in thine secret shrine
When will I gaze on thy endless skies
as they blush in brazen sunrise

When will I suck your nectar raw
from golden buds that spring did thaw
When will my plough with oxen pair
Till your fertile fields laid bare

When will I slake my thirst ablaze
in yonder stream that runs and plays?
When will I lie sated in joy
and yet hunger, for you do not cloy?

When will I sleep a dreamless sleep
one that thy breast's lilt alone keep
When will I wake to thy doting smile
sans base cunning sans beguile

O Ithaca, fair Ithaca should I not see
Your gold hemmed coast skirting the sea
Inter my lust my love in thy breast
And death would be than life so blest