The Sprigs and Spirit of Sistine -1
Poetry, paint and the birth of a world
in a whirl the Dark and the Light do swirl
yet obey the dawn and dusk I do unfurl
above the alter I, the Almighty
forge form from their spectral sexuality,
the dichotomy of their desires a dervish
on the pools of people's souls
and tastes on the textures of temporal terra firma,
As I stretch and stir
to stimulate the steaming stars
my brow burns with sympathetic love
as the sun's unquenchable fire shimmers
on the sweat of my unmistakable face
and the moon's melancholic majesty
mimicks the paternal might
that compels me to allow that which must be,
for in this moment I turn to temper the Earth
to touch the truth of it's awakening,
Gliding in virginal geometry
I am the aerial Architect
seperating sumptuous sky
from hot heaving seas,
orchestrating the laws of water and wind
carving the continents with my crystalline fingernails,
I make creatures that creep and leap
from the designs of my chimerical dreams
making a garden of all the rich and pleasant things
that my heart knew how to love
I dreamt of myself, of my ideal
and from the warmest clay
imbued with pure salt and speckles of gold
I sculpted the first Man
with nothing more than my bloodied breath,
and as he lay with longing eyes
waiting for the reason of life
I flew to him like a starving fire
desperate to ignite his silent soul,
my retinue of anxious angels
carrying the weight of this wonderment
as the spirit of my first Daughter
braces my arm with brash innocence
trepidated by the temptation of companionship
with the presage of their future child present,
As Adam roamed curious and cautious
like a child walking in the charm of shallow freedom
we spoke about the names of nature,
we mused on why water had weight
discussed how things change yet remain perfect,
he was smitten by shape and color,
Adam's joy of soft enlightenment
was becoming shadowed though,
I could feel a loneliness in his expressions
like leaves falling forever,
his heart was experiencing a need to share
in which his intellect could not define
and this abstract pain foretold of torture
for I could see that Man was not destin to be alone,
I told Adam to close his eyes
and to travel to the center of Time,
in so doing I induced a sleep of stone on him,
he was beautiful stillness,
my hand pierced the side of his body
snapping Adam's lowest rib,
the sound was like lightning,
from it's marrow and a pinch of magic
I made Woman
commanding her forth from his wounded flesh,
she rose to me asking...What am I to be...
I answered...You are to be the Mother of Mankind...
and so I named her Eve...
J.A.B.
This is the first of 17 poems that make up this composition...J.A.B.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment