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Behold Beatrice, Pitcairn

Behold Beatrice, Pitcairn the paradise sunsets lie in Tahiti sunrise, the folly of Easter islands, sanitoriums, deluded, denuded limbos and purgatories, the never evermore Polynesian metaphors transmigrate my mind O to graze with the deer, dear the tree never falls silently lizards scatter, birds scurry to flight i could never buy into falling silence let alone fate of Galileo's descending weights church theologians preferring an atheist Aristhrottle forgive me for being sententious dear no pity for Cyrano the hidden Darcy in another failed Benedick in port without Dante's delusions love with no embrace Service, woman, a slightly tainted saint Tennyson's wound that never heals Petrarch, Augustine, it grows insane ah the vicissitudes, where was i yes, leaving metaphors and literate men your laughter starts in those ignescent eyes ignition, brush fires of rippling ballerinas facial muscles lost in abandonment to some elfish music i see, never hear lips widening, bursting rubaiyat pandemonium i adore your infectious risibility it is your amatory smile i love most demure, candles gamboling in the moonlight i am a moth lost in the flames of your demanding timidity it is then i see in your eyes the dove gracing your hands the beast who serves your lust this is why the Norsemen fear nothing but women swords once ready, berserkers, Odin now lie silent volcanoes in my heart, Freya the seas are without headstones and i am wondering again terricolous all of this are the clouds overhead it is the heavens i see in your eyes not the red dawn i fear we see the jungle, its' song, inevitable war the struggle to stand in the light possibly besotted, erratum the seas have long not cared with you, i learn, heal we are undeniably humanity we are paradise lost the hells of yesterday need not rule the heavens of today your arms gravid with red sunsets fill my deepest hopes of all morrows its' ultimate price is gladly paid Miramar 94 The Patient Stones Revised 5/22 OKC see on Youtube Shakespeare's Sonnet 116 Is Not What It Seems there are certain words in here common in 19th Century literature that always remind me....besotted with Jane Austen

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

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Date: 5/22/2022 12:25:00 PM
so interesting thank you for this poem the images were wonderful and the language beautiful.
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Timothy Ray
Date: 6/16/2022 7:15:00 PM
thank you Linda....appreciated
Date: 5/20/2022 10:34:00 PM
Loved your reference to the norsemen and the moth drawn as if in a death dance to the flame.Beautiful.Jesus was often decried and tried as to the company he kept.His reply ,the well are in no need of a physician.Spiritual illness is as real as the most aggressive and malignant of cancers.Often what is professed, good and bad, is a person deluding self or quagmired in shame unable to envision their own self worth.Both equally sad.Loved your thoughts and their expression.
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Timothy Ray
Date: 5/21/2022 11:31:00 AM
thank you, Vickey those quagmired in guilt need to walk away from such....Youtube video, Guilt, Why You Feel It and How to Release It..But I came to realize the ultimate truth – guilt does not allow you to be true to yourself, or authentically true to others either. Guilt also causes many blocks in your healing and keeps other people stuck in pain, suffering and stunted growth as well.