Blushing beneath the mystical white moon
Where I imbibe colour and sound and scent
In that still valley by the still lagoon,
Foretell new storms to those already spent
Love, like the magic of wild melodies,
And all the Furies issued at the Vent.
With radiance so fair it seems to be
Gods ! how his eyes with threat’ning ardour glow!
Along my pulses, yearning to be free
With liquid love--all things together grow
And fill my bosom with celestial fire
I'm not a star. I'll never let you go...
Rapture of mystic love, and so inspired
Into the night these wafts of rich perfume
But I am caught by ravishing desire
Should claim thee and the leaping flame consume
Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair,
In this amazing darkness, in the gloom
A blissful rapture we discover there.
A thousand trembling orbs of lucid dew
Whilst, as it were, they cleave the waves of air;
And left her legs and thighs expos'd to view:
And wrapped in fabrics red as sunset flame.
And now, will shew thee how this Passion grew
Would that my heart could comfort you the same,
And mad with rage, yet lovely to behold:
And joy was in my heart like leaves aflame.'
Dipt all in crimson streaked with pink and gold;
Of fire and lust! Two flames, two Semeles
No longer by vain fear, or shame controul'd
And I, enslaved, have learnt to sing for thee.
A sense of joy so wild 't is almost pain,
As carries them into an ecstasy,
I've tried to break the spell of it -- in vain.
In the blind dark with wolf-winds overhead.
Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane,
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
A butterfly its fall had dispossessed
But when the night her drowsy mantle spread,
Across the threshold. Something came and prest
Of endless depth, o'erwhelm'd with ragged stone,
Blossoms the shining fulness of your breast.
the breathless hour that lives in fire alone
Their glittering courses through the blue abyss.
He is a Thought; he is not flesh-and-bone;
The trembling Universe—suns, stars, grief, bliss—
Then, one by one, bathed in the beaming flood,
O Love! in such a wilderness as this,
Where the pale lustre of the moony flood
Within thy veins is all the fire of day
Throbbed with the fitful pulse of amorous blood,
But I true Passion's soft commands obey,
With interlinking arms and flying hair;
Impell'd by love, I wing'd the airy way;
And shouts of rapture fill'd the perfum'd air!
And voices passion-hoarse, or shrilled with fright,
The shrieks and moanings quench the screaming air,
With them my heart glides on in golden flight
Throbbing with human passion, yet devine
My Love, thou art my way, my life, my light.
'Tis love that makes the heavens shine
-- I marvel that God made you mine,
Bronze trophy winner
Adding your comment:
I loved this...I had no idea what was going on, but I thought, hmmm, some of these sound familiar...and it didn't feel like a "whole" poem written by just one person. There seemed to be many, many voices layered one over the other, each speaking, each echoing the other. This must've been an exhausting journey! It's like hunting down all these painters, borrowing one brush from each, and then painting your own landscape. And what a landscape it is! VERY nicely done! I am beyond impressed. I am speechless (well, not literally, but still)..
! ~EL d
8 old applause
