Green Spanish Eyes - Part 1
Green Spanish Eyes - Part 1
Ah Consuela! Invoking vast vistas for visions of green Spanish eyes,
I discern them again where she left me back then, as we kissed when she parted, my friend.
So I’m daring to tread towards the klieg lights ahead, where I’ll wait till I see her ascend.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she teases the mirror with green Spanish eyes;
Her serape entangles her ebony bangles like lace on the sorcerer’s looms,
And her capes of the night, she drapes tight to excite, and her fan is embellished with plumes.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching as spectators savour her green Spanish eyes;
Taming wild concertinas, the dark ballerina performs on the concert hall stage,
But she shies from the sound of ovation unbound like a timorous bird in a cage.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she quickens the pit with her green Spanish eyes,
As the cymbals shake, clashing, the floodlights wake, flashing, igniting the wild fireflies,
And the piccolo piper’s inviting the vipers to coil in the cold caldron skies.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching the shimmering shadows in green Spanish eyes
As I rise from my chair and converge to the stair with a hesitant sip of my wine.
Though she doesn’t deny me, she wanders right by me with neither a look nor a sign.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she waves to the stage with her green Spanish eyes,
(For her senses scoff, scorning the biblical warning of kisses of Judas that sting,
With her pierced ears defeating the echoes repeating) and smiles at the bluebird that sings.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching faint embers a’ stir in her green Spanish eyes,
For a soft spoken stranger enveloping danger has captured the rhyme in the room
As he slips into sight through the scent of the night and the breath of her heavy perfume.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she gauges his guise through her green Spanish eyes
- From his gypsy-like mane, to his diamond stud cane, to the raven engraved on his vest -
For a faraway form, a tempestuous storm, lurks and heaves neath the cleav’e of her breasts.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching the caravels cruising her green Spanish eyes;
With the castanets clacking upon the deck cracking, he whips ’round his cloak with a whiz
And without sacrificing, at mien so enticing, she floats with her face facing his.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, the vertigo veiling her green Spanish eyes,
While the drumbeat pounds, droning, the rhythm sounds, moaning, of jungles Jamaican entwined
In the valleys concealing the vineyards revealing the vaults in the caves of her mind.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching life's carnivals call to her green Spanish eyes,
And with paused palpitations the tom-tom temptations come taunting her tremulous feet
With her toe tips a’ tingle while jute boxes jingle for jesters that jive on the street.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she rides summer tides in her green Spanish eyes,
And her silhouette’s travelling on ripples unravelling and shaking the shivering shores,
As she strides from the light to the taste of the night through the candlelit cabaret doors.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she dances till dawn flashing green Spanish eyes,
With her movements adorning a trickle of morning as sipped by the mouth of the moon,
While her tresses twirl, shaming the filaments flaming that flow from the sun’s oval spoon.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she masks for a moment her green Spanish eyes.
Then the bluebird that sings ceases preening her wings and descends as a lean bird of prey -
As she flutters her ’lashes and laughs in broad splashes, his narrowing eyes start to stray.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching fey carousels spin in her green Spanish eyes,
And the porcelain ponies and leprechaun cronies race, reaching for gold and such things,
Even being reminded that only the blinded are fooled by the brass in the rings.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she shepherds the shadows with green Spanish eyes,
But as evening sinks, ebbing, the skyline climbs, webbing, and weaves through the temples of stone,
While the nightingales sing of a kiss on the wing in the depths of the dunes all alone.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching the music and magic in green Spanish eyes,
As she dances enchanted, while firmly implanted in tugs of his turbulent arms,
Till he cuts through the strings, tames the bluebird that sings, and seduces once more with his charms.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, the citadel steams in her green Spanish eyes,
And behind the dark curtain the savants seem certain that nothing and no one exist,
But though vapours look vacant, the vagabond vagrants remain in a mythical mist.
Copyright © Terry O'Leary