Long Narcissus Poems
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And fields and springs faithfully prayed
with hope and love, in life`s sacred dance.
In beauty of his mind, Narcissus survived.
And lovely seasons never would be fade,
because the travel met the hope`s grass.
And fields and springs faithfully prayed.
And so, the people part was well weighed:
good deeds, and good will in human stance.
In beauty of his mind, Narcissus survived.
And sweet like honey, could be always made
this life with all its joys` and sorrows` chance.
And fields and springs faithfully prayed.
And finally, no reasons stayed to be afraid
by travel, and its expected change.
In beauty of his mind, Narcissus survived.
Metamorphoses in role the being had played
as time, prepared what he might advance.
And fields and springs faithfully prayed.
In beauty of his mind, Narcissus survived.
There's an urgency to the ascending bleep of the alarm clock
Creeps in, nudging me from sleep.
I choose snooze, just five minutes more
And visions of the evening before,
When a tiny dormouse was seen,
Tip-toes back, drifts into my dream.
Persephone, the hazel dormouse,
Quiet queen of the hedgerow,
Has wintered in her haven of the underworld,
Slumbered in her bushy tail curled softly around her.
She's stirring as the returning light of this spring equinox
Dispels winter's gloom.
Persephone is awoken by a cacophony of floral symphonies,
New blooms a carillon of bluebells reverberating
In a tintinnabulation of campanula indigo tones
Reverberating with the violet and lilac peals of the grape hyacinth.
Persephone's ears prick to the tinkle and chime
Of the lilies of the valley, bellissima!
And in the distance, a golden merriment of daffodils and narcissus
Are trumpeting in the new spring.
In my dreaming, I am as teeny and tiny as Persephone,
She and I look at each other, and then up to the vast sky.
We nod a greeting to the lonely cloud wandering by.
Together we gaze at the brimstone butterfly,
Fierce and ablaze in his sulphureous yellow,
Herald to the new day.
Then my pictures of Persephone are slowly fading away,
She's leaving to go break her fast on the delicacy
Of nectar, caterpillar and aphid, which she likes the most,
Whereas me, now awake, I get up.
I go make tea and toast.
Is Echo anything beyond a voice?
Narcissus is a very handsome man.
Is love an obligation, or a choice?
It hasn’t varied since the world began.
Narcissus is a very handsome man.
He sees his own reflexion, and he knows:
it hasn’t varied since the world began.
To love an egotist engenders woes.
He sees his own reflexion, and he knows
he is his own enduring fantasy.
To love an egotist engenders woes –
one thing will always block you: that thing’s “he”.
He is his own enduring fantasy:
he seeks no other: he’s both hook and bait.
One thing will always block you: that thing’s “he”.
Thus gorgeousness becomes an ugly trait!
He seeks no other. He’s both hook and bait.
He’s empty. As we say, he’s lost the plot:
thus gorgeousness becomes an ugly trait.
But sound, like memory, can mark the spot.
We think love lasts for ever. Clearly not.
Abandoning a partner now seems rife.
The axioms we’ve lived by are forgot.
What are the privileges of a wife?
Abandoning a partner now seems rife.
Is love an obligation, or a choice?
What are the privileges of a wife?
Is Echo anything beyond a voice?
At the crystal lake where Narcissus once gazed at his reflection
stands a handsome flower with a white silken face and golden eye.
I can hear Echo’s voice on the wind which wails forlornly.
*Poet's Daffodil’s bright yellow eye watches me intently.
Pen in hand - pondering how vanity left beauty in its stead -
I sit and now start writing as the flower nods approval.
Written Feb. 28, 2012 for Francine Robert's
*****willows or daffodils Poetry Contest
*Poet's Daffodil is Narcissus poeticus, one of the first
daffodils to be cultivated. It is associated with the Greek
legend of Narcissus.
"Fata Morgana"
feet hardly touch the ocean
when silent stars of no voice
transmit words to pay the ferryman
on the water no reflection
gently the sun waves smiling as if to say
feel that, the warmth of waking sleep
no fear of what remains hidden
it will unravel from inside that which is all too deep
walking towards you across the briny mist
from ancient stories forgotten
a halo of St Elmo’s Fire surrounds
it stands still for a short while before you
watching
you,
walking water with your bare feet
faith in dreams consistent in their constancy
that visit you when you are complete yet incomplete
holds out its hand to lead the way across
sharp burning rocks, now a desert, climbing mountains that are steep
a small life crumbles to powdered sand
more than 40 days silent gone astray
years the turning of untimed tides pretence
meets a haunting vision beckoning, new horizon, odd unclear
safe harbour left long ago,
lost in that ornery time, cursed by flying monkeys' bellows
of bloodletting and betrayal, stock still, standing amidst the shallows
somewhere along the way dark narcissus followed
what breaks over the bow
washes all stern fear away
sacred wings of albatross
ne’er to be sacrificed, no more night nor day
souls of ancient mariners
forever follow me, even when I stray
the rich baritone of bedtime stories
messages in code conveyed, I hear them still today
now swallows spooning spinnakers
running directly before wind and sea
the water turns to wine, much stranger the belief,
all manna of trust it feeds
bells tolling
no man’s an island entire of itself
in unusual reckonings
observing swimming hearts, that hear and see
the eyes that melt, this more curiously
in truth, the dream defends
messages eternal
life it never ends
tides move in and out
never alone when we begin
fata morgana
softly the moon ascends
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
VCB
Lux Vitae
5.5.10
"Under a splintered mast,
torn from ship and cast
near her hull,
a stumbling shepherd found
embedded in the ground,
a sea-gull
of lapis lazuli,
a scarab of the sea,
with wings spread—
curling its coral feet,
parting its beak to greet
men long dead."
("Talisman", Marianne Moore)
Raven orchids drape the night,
fraying in the high petals
of swooning fronds.
I sit beneath a daffodil porch light,
a blood moon blushing tangerine
in a field of white alyssum
as I smell the nascent lilt
of a voodoo rose.
The giggling breeze
that flirted with my lashes
suddenly becomes a gust,
stinging my eyes.
Voodoo thorns rip my shirt
in a netherworld of absent flesh
as silhouettes of unbridled marigolds
woo their willing beds.
In my daffodil haze
I lift black narcissus
in an absent glass
to toast forbidden love,
the feral moon and I
beneath the breathless echo
of wild star light.
Posted 11/25/22
,
A black cloud descends…. , , ,
Each flower grows hopeful! ,,
In jubilation, katydids, laughingly, make noisy ovations! , , ,
Party-planner, Queen Rosie, STOPS to
unleash verses,with ’xcited Yiddish zeal !
……………………………………………………………. , ,
D Daisy Mae, and Lily Gay, bathe in refreshing rains ,,
A Anointed too, are tiny baby buds, with every little drop ,, ,,,
N Narcissus squeals with laughter, and sings a sweet refrain
C Crickets dance with plaid berets, and do a Celtic hop!
I In the mud we’ll find two pigs, they splash, but then rain STOPS!
N Nanny Goose, and Granny Goat, play banjos in the band
G Gardenias, stash away umbrellas, they scrub from end to end
R Rabbits hear the jubilee, and from a hole they pop
A A squirrel or two, comes down the tree, where all the fuss began
I In spite of fear, the little mouse, looks out to see what’s up
N Nearby, the cat, just waves his hat, allows the mice some fun!
N Dogs join in, STOP chasing cats, they splash, and play like kids
R Rainbows fill the evening sky, where now the sun peeks in
O Overhead, the colors smile, in greens, and blues and reds
P Pretty is the world tonight, refreshed, and clean, and good
S Softly STOPS the pitter-pat upon on the evening’s hood
…………………………………………………………………………
Thirsty trees, and tender tulip tongues, tasted today’s tantalizing tonic
Rain STOPS to retreat, to replenish, refresh, repair, and rest
Delighted dancers STOP, to discuss day’s divine delivery duties
Rainbows remind recovering revelers reasons to STOP and reflect, rejoice, recent rainy rewards
Slowly, in soft slippers, STOPping to shine, sun sets silently.
Satisfactorily satiated, the scenery seems serene, sparkling and sleepy…..
..............................................................................................................................
Inspired by Debbie's Contest "Aye, Aye, and a Mistress"
All these insipid poems of Love
Love Lost….
Love Found….
What is this emotion that makes UP? Down?
All this frantic fretting
nail biting and bed-wetting.
What is this profound poetic notion?
What is the source of this commotion??
All these romantic, rabid, ramblings, of Love
Love Lost..
Love Found…
What is this emotion that makes UP? Down?
Palms pale and sweat,
brows furrow and frown.
All these horrid, hormonal, tizzies,
do little more than make one dizzy.
Love Lost…
Love Found…
Abandon this morose emotion
right this curse, set in motion.
And, if I may, let me suggest,
the route Narcissus took was best.
Love revealed…
Love found.
A love who’ll never let you down.
A love without product or prodigy
To fill the world with more dichotomy.
I'm a flower; I stand tall and primp for the world to see,
As a blooming princess, I incur both acclaim and glory.
Shaking shyly under a whimsical sky in dull tree stumps,
Soft melting snow vacuums up my tumescent clumps.
Eastward, where the eagle's feathers spread for flight,
Glow magnifies, bidding farewell to the fading twilight.
Once the days lengthen, they grow rosier and warmer,
Wintry endless dullness for my darling little charmer.
Paving the way for brighter days and lifting the spirit,
Vivid illumination, glowing embers, ruby, and pure merit.
Vibe shone in dual heat, a starry sky coated in sublime,
As stirring winds sate the slight cold, of ululating time.
Awe-inspiring bliss at the first arrival of spring thrill,
The morphology of the blooms on the saffron daffodil
Ritzily jasmine, eerie whispers ripple across the woods,
Spring, my lover, spills my soul in its pacific moods.
Fields of color bloom with bright joy, in ribald delight.
Narcissus competes with tulips for greater height.
1st place contest winner
Written: February 19, 2023
In Bloom Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
What has happened to me of late?
The sound of falling footsteps behind,
Sends all my senses on a strike,
Leaving me with thunderous pounding of the heart.
My mind then buzzes with thoughts and I go dizzy.
Why this happens to me every now and then?
Is this what you call love?
Why I nurse the aura of a beautiful dream?
Why I see the Earth wearing new colors?
Why I feel the wind whispering to me a new tale?
Why do I feel this moment intoxicating?
A strong current course through my arteries.
Never have I felt like this before
Is this what you call love?
Lately I run to the mirror more often.
Am I becoming another Narcissus,
Getting drowned in my own image?
Why do I become so choosy in my dress?
Why do I look around to see,
If anyone has seen me smiling to myself?
I wonder what has happened to me these days
Is this what you call love?
Why do I see stars on a bare ebony sky?
Why I feel the night air indolently fragrant?
Why sleep eludes me at the wee hours of the night,
Making me sit delirious by the window
Hoping to catch the glimpse of a shadow
Why this happens night after night?
Is this what you call love?
Why my mind wanders like an unattended kite?
I grow excited, I grow restless.
I grow impatient with time.
Sometimes anxiety grips me.
I sink and rise in the ocean of my moods.
There is a visible change in me.
Is this what you call love?
I close my eyes tight and let my heart open,
Feeling the colors of love that paint me a chameleon.
In me rises a rare vivaciousness,
Igniting a new spark in my body and spirit and I awake,
To find myself greeting each morn with a song!