Rhythmic Poetry

Rains Descend

Rains descend upon my head
The sky grows dark and chill
The rush surround my mind and soul
To freeze my halting will

Clouds move o’er the dawning sun
And halt the marching light
My vision dims throughout the morn
And shrinks into the night

Fogs envelope mind and frame
The world becomes a haze
The hues of life are bled and dried
My eyes are dark and glazed

(featured image source)

Rhythmic Poetry

Tara’s Lasting Memories

They whisper still on Tara’s Hill, the lasting memories
Of men and beasts, of rain and wind, of ages run to die
They whisper of the highest kings, resplendent in their dress
Brought-forth from waring clans upon the Isle of the Green
They whisper of the strains of men, in fellowship arrayed
They whisper of the streams of blood
That’s borne upon the mighty River Boyne unto the thirsty sea
They whisper of the sumptuous feasts, where mead and laughter flowed
They whisper of the druids dark, King-Makers in the ancient land
They whisper in their silent tears for all the Island’s children dear
Who’ve mourned and suffered in their sordid history
They whisper still, on Tara’s Hill, these lasting memories


The Hound of Heaven

The classic poem, “The Hound of Heaven“, by Francis Thompson

I FLED Him, down the nights and down the days;	
  I fled Him, down the arches of the years;	
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways	
    Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears	
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.	
      Up vistaed hopes I sped;	
      And shot, precipitated,	
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,	
  From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.	
      But with unhurrying chase,	
      And unperturbèd pace,	
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,	
      They beat—and a Voice beat	
      More instant than the Feet—	
‘All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.’	
          I pleaded, outlaw-wise,	
By many a hearted casement, curtained red,	
  Trellised with intertwining charities;	
(For, though I knew His love Who followèd,	
        Yet was I sore adread	
Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside).	
But, if one little casement parted wide,	
  The gust of His approach would clash it to.	
  Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue.	
Across the margent of the world I fled,	
  And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,	
  Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars;	
        Fretted to dulcet jars	
And silvern chatter the pale ports o’ the moon.	
I said to Dawn: Be sudden—to Eve: Be soon;	
  With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over	
        From this tremendous Lover—	
Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!	
  I tempted all His servitors, but to find	
My own betrayal in their constancy,	
In faith to Him their fickleness to me,	
  Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.	
To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;	
  Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.	
      But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,	
    The long savannahs of the blue;	
        Or whether, Thunder-driven,	
    They clanged his chariot ’thwart a heaven,	
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o’ their feet:—	
  Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.	
      Still with unhurrying chase,	
      And unperturbèd pace,	
    Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,	
      Came on the following Feet,	
      And a Voice above their beat—	
    ‘Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me.’	
I sought no more that after which I strayed	
  In face of man or maid;	
But still within the little children’s eyes	
  Seems something, something that replies,	
They at least are for me, surely for me!	
I turned me to them very wistfully;	
But just as their young eyes grew sudden fair	
  With dawning answers there,	
Their angel plucked them from me by the hair.	
‘Come then, ye other children, Nature’s—share	
With me’ (said I) ‘your delicate fellowship;	
  Let me greet you lip to lip,	
  Let me twine with you caresses,	
  With our Lady-Mother’s vagrant tresses,	
  With her in her wind-walled palace,	
  Underneath her azured daïs,	
  Quaffing, as your taintless way is,	
    From a chalice	
Lucent-weeping out of the dayspring.’	
    So it was done:	
I in their delicate fellowship was one—	
Drew the bolt of Nature’s secrecies.	
  I knew all the swift importings	
  On the wilful face of skies;	
  I knew how the clouds arise	
  Spumèd of the wild sea-snortings;	
    All that’s born or dies	
  Rose and drooped with; made them shapers	
Of mine own moods, or wailful or divine;	
  With them joyed and was bereaven.	
  I was heavy with the even,	
  When she lit her glimmering tapers	
  Round the day’s dead sanctities.	
  I laughed in the morning’s eyes.	
I triumphed and I saddened with all weather,	
  Heaven and I wept together,	
And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine;	
Against the red throb of its sunset-heart	
    I laid my own to beat,	
    And share commingling heat;	
But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart.	
In vain my tears were wet on Heaven’s grey cheek.	
For ah! we know not what each other says,	
  These things and I; in sound I speak—	
Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences.	
Nature, poor stepdame, cannot slake my drouth;	
  Let her, if she would owe me,	
Drop yon blue bosom-veil of sky, and show me	
  The breasts o’ her tenderness:	
Never did any milk of hers once bless	
    My thirsting mouth.	
    Nigh and nigh draws the chase,	
    With unperturbèd pace,	
  Deliberate speed, majestic instancy;	
    And past those noisèd Feet	
    A voice comes yet more fleet—	
  ‘Lo! naught contents thee, who content’st not Me!’	
Naked I wait Thy love’s uplifted stroke!	
My harness piece by piece Thou hast hewn from me,	
    And smitten me to my knee;	
  I am defenceless utterly.	
  I slept, methinks, and woke,	
And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep.	
In the rash lustihead of my young powers,	
  I shook the pillaring hours	
And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears,	
I stand amid the dust o’ the mounded years—	
My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.	
My days have crackled and gone up in smoke,	
Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream.	
  Yea, faileth now even dream	
The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist;	
Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist	
I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,	
Are yielding; cords of all too weak account	
For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.	
  Ah! is Thy love indeed	
A weed, albeit an amaranthine weed,	
Suffering no flowers except its own to mount?	
  Ah! must—	
  Designer infinite!—	
Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it?	
My freshness spent its wavering shower i’ the dust;	
And now my heart is as a broken fount,	
Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever	
  From the dank thoughts that shiver	
Upon the sighful branches of my mind.	
  Such is; what is to be?	
The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind?	
I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds;	
Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds	
From the hid battlements of Eternity;	
Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then	
Round the half-glimpsèd turrets slowly wash again.	
  But not ere him who summoneth	
  I first have seen, enwound	
With glooming robes purpureal, cypress-crowned;	
His name I know, and what his trumpet saith.	
Whether man’s heart or life it be which yields	
  Thee harvest, must Thy harvest-fields	
  Be dunged with rotten death?	
      Now of that long pursuit	
    Comes on at hand the bruit;	
  That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:	
    ‘And is thy earth so marred,	
    Shattered in shard on shard?	
  Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!	
  Strange, piteous, futile thing!	
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?	
Seeing none but I makes much of naught’ (He said),	
‘And human love needs human meriting:	
  How hast thou merited—	
Of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot?	
  Alack, thou knowest not	
How little worthy of any love thou art!	
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,	
  Save Me, save only Me?	
All which I took from thee I did but take,	
  Not for thy harms,	
But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.	
  All which thy child’s mistake	
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:	
  Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’	
  Halts by me that footfall:	
  Is my gloom, after all,	
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?	
  ‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,	
  I am He Whom thou seekest!	
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.’	

Blank Verse

Dark, Enclouded Murk

I slip into the murk of tumbled, troubled minds
Encased within the womb of Darkness’ chilling hands
My eyes are hazed, enclouded by confusing fogs
My arms lie limp along my frozen frame
Dirtied, blackened snow impedes my quaking legs
Mischieved, unseen phalanges play my heart – arrhythmic tunes
Filtered thoughts assault my inner sight, a swarm of devil moths
Happiness seems drowned in living’s blackened lake
Hope has run to foreign, shining lands
Here I lie, a dank, malignant worm


(featured image source)

Soundtrack of a Castaway

Soundtrack of a Castaway – Bring Me to Life

There is such a thing as a Living Death, and it is not just the purview of zombies and monsters.  It is a state created and fashioned in a lack of love and affection.  It is grown over the flaming pits, in a young mind threatened with hell’s eternal face-fuck.  It thrives on fear and anxious trepidation, and it feeds on the hopes and dreams of the damned.

At times and in many ways, pure Death would be preferable.  But to be alive to one’s death…  To have a death that eats at you, that feeds on you…

THAT is unbearable.

It is consciousness to one’s soul-less-ness.

The spirit lives in the heartless tundra, the mind bloats in the desert.

Bid my blood to run, indeed.

Bring Me to Life

How can you see into my eyes, like open doors
Leading you down into my core
Where I’ve become so numb, without a soul
My spirit’s sleeping somewhere cold
Until you find it there and lead it back home

Wake me up, wake me up inside I can’t wake up,
Wake me up inside, save me,
Call my name and save me from the dark, wake me up
Bid my blood to run, I can’t wake up
Before I come undone, save me
Save me from the nothing I’ve become

Now that I know what I’m without
You can’t just leave me
Breathe into me and make me real, bring me to life

Wake me up, wake me up inside I can’t wake up,
Wake me up inside, save me,
Call my name and save me from the dark, wake me up
Bid my blood to run, I can’t wake up
Before I come undone, save me
Save me from the nothing I’ve become

Bring me to life, I’ve been living a lie
There’s nothing inside, bring me to life

Frozen inside without your touch
Without your love, darling
Only you are the life among the dead

All this time, I can’t believe I couldn’t see
Kept in the dark, but you were there in front of me

I’ve been sleeping a thousand years it seems
I’ve got to open my eyes to everything

Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul

Don’t let me die here
There must be something wrong, bring me to life

Wake me up, wake me up inside I can’t wake up,
Wake me up inside, save me,
Call my name and save me from the dark, wake me up
Bid my blood to run, I can’t wake up
Before I come undone, save me
Save me from the nothing I’ve become

Bring me to life, I’ve been living a lie, there’s nothing inside
Bring me to life

(featured image source)