The Amourette Autopsy
In vesper’s curt caress there seems no bind
To daylight’s brim or morning’s dire decree-
Your vertigo embrace confounded vows,
Within a steel wheeled cauldron we stirred swamps
We hyperventilated hurricanes
Cajoled embraces, arrogated from
your groom and registry and welling eyes;
Celestial bliss, we buzzed God's prayer vault.
We even deemed the telescopic murk
a trough where genuflections might could reach;
You spun away to opium dens, supine,
I could not trace Icarian designs.
You tiptoed the obituary scene
Without your leaving even a toe’s wake-
But in your swirl you must have slipped but once
in its ambitious, enterprising ink.
Oh butterfly why you abjured your wings,
Regressed to the cocoon womb’s staid address?
I wish I could interrogate your wraith
by dream, concussion, disembodiment.
Enraptured by your sallow soft trained tress-
drapes gaped to manifest seraphic tones
of fairness, though distraught by varying hues
that sapience esteems the bends of life
Categories:
icarian, addiction, bereavement, dark, death,
Form: Blank verse
Daedalus in his heart wept
While far below plunged Icarus
A father's words unheeded
Both sun and sea corrupted
Wax melting,feathers heavy with spray
What a poor fisherman witnessed
Uncomprehendingly
Youth's folly to ignore a wise head.
The artificer flew on,joyful to have left his labyrinth
Broken to see his son die.
That spot would forever be called the Icarian Sea
The hideous blot of a dark memory.
Categories:
icarian, death, father son, memory,
Form: Blank verse
Ink
Indelible etchings
ingrained on a stone hearts
insatiable desire.
Icarian escape
igniting defiant
incantations of hope’s
inescapable truth.
©2/25/2017
submitted to – Pleiades I – poetry contest
Categories:
icarian, poetry, writing,
Form: Verse
Between the night and day
I will go-
for an icarian fall.
A commitment to resistance
was over. I am
melting under the moon.
Hold my hand. A
dramatic front was ready-
to destroy me.
Celebrating the death
was an intense mistake. It
was becoming a practice run-
for the hangman-
to sharpen his skill. There
was a long row of sinners.
Satish Verma
Categories:
icarian, art,
Form: ABC
Drowning in the depths of despair
Their waves of guilt and impotence
Thundering through his brain
The roar drowning out
The anguished pleas
Of family and friends.
Trapped within the unscalable heights
Of torment
Walls rendered impenetrable
By his tortured deafness
His mind thrashed
For a way of escape.
Born of the gilded generation
This doomed Icarian youth
Lured by the amber flame of a vitreous sun
And beaten down by mental strain
Listened for the approaching whistle
And stepped lightly into the void.
The windscreen thump
The driver's startled and pallid face
The screech of brakes
The acrid stench of scorching flesh
And the line at a standstill.
Once the wreckage was cleared
Left behind were the wounds
Lightly to crust over
But beneath, the ever gaping wound
That will never heal.
Just graze the surface
And the pain and questions
Come flooding back.
Categories:
icarian, angst, depression, suicide,
Form: Free verse