The grief I feel is of another kind
Sweeter than holy water
A deeper breath than moorland air to find
The black of midnight, not—
Of monstrous seas, but—
Of restful night, donated cloak
From a kindly gentleman to wear
Wrapped in coolest starlight, safe
Astride a destrier — galloping to water
Molted feather — fortuitously found
New flight, gentle wind in gossamer sail.
Creeping tendrils — nettles wind around
Sentries of roses — silken petal rounds
Shower the lily casket — topped by pearly crown.
I know my grief is not the universal kind
But something softer than the norm
Welcome as a friend, I usher in my grief
And death, his brother, dressed in angel white
Scythe to call its sleepers — lowered in greeting bow.
Farewell, Annie
Newcomer to the under-realm.
With no card of sympathy
Or hearse to see you off
In lonely grief you leave your final hurt.
But, relief of death follows me, ebony puppy
Nipping at my heels, my little black dog
Helps my heart to heal.
Categories:
destrier, death of a friend,
Form: Free verse
Stephanus Marcus Book 1
Canto 5
Verses 4 and 5
"King Richard, you do me now great respect.
Methinks that I'm not worthy my Lord, Sire.
Such lofty new position I suspect
should be for noble wearing fine attire.
All my rags need to be reduced with fire.
Duke Morley seems deserving honor bright
for he affects rich raiment needing hire
of tailors sewing clothes for liege just right.
Now he presents to view an ostentatious sight."
" You're my good faithful vassal standing grave.
Now make a promise I require this day,
for I esteem you're worthy, Saint, not knave
to show Islam the true and righteous way.
And garments never made the knight I say,
for neither armor bright nor destrier bold
reflect true soul; for thee now I do pray
you'll see the right and sail with me as told.
Salaam will be changed, Saint, reflecting Christian mold."
Categories:
destrier, england,
Form: Rhyme
Words
Where do words come from?
In moments of exhilaration or despair
They come unbidden, sometimes tumbling,
Sometimes meandering, making their uninvited way,
The welcomed unwelcome guest.
Thoughts of you lay dormant,
Quietly biding their time until chance
Encounter on Facebook summons them,
And they turn inward to words past,
The remembrances of love.
The soft belltone of a wineglass
Tapped to ring in the splash of ruby,
Lubricant of words, key to
Disinhibited recall of feelings and touch,
The gentle caress of Bacchus’ arms.
Thus unlocked, I await their coming,
Expectant, hopeful, certain of their power,
To charm and persuade, yet
Still uncertain they will answer my call,
Fearful they will betray me.
Where are you, words?
Why do you not spring forth, my champions,
My shimmering knights, when the
Dragon emerges from her lair and breaths
Her sweetly perfumed fire?
You are my caparisoned destrier,
My lance, my sword, my shattering mace;
You are my armour bright,
To win me fortune at the tilt,
My Lady’s token favour.
Ah Words, you desert me!
Categories:
destrier, words,
Form: Blank verse
Shedding Feathers
One by Two
By Two and Three
And Three keeps shedding
because there is more,
Divine Feathers
which held and defined His soul.
He let them be White,
Paper White,
but proud as a Knight,
fighting enemies and Holy battles
on a destrier with a saddle.
He let himself be unconquered,
His Soul intact.
Many brawls and fights won
though corroding shield and armor,
a warrior with no starmer
and no history,
no claim.
Lest those feathers shed,
which claimed his immortality,
from slight gray to slate
they precariously turned.
'Here are feathers'
he somberly called his
Dear Friends,
fledging each one.
'Let me come down and drink
and give alms.
I'll soil myself and shed my feathers.'
he roared
while his friends cheered.
'I give thee my own soul'
he said almost passing out,
'to which one and two i hope you do enjoy.
My Plumage is with me No More
but forever with you evermore.'
Categories:
destrier, fantasy, imagination, introspection, peopleme,
Form: I do not know?