Long Scan Poems
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After: "Letter of Mithridates to Phraates, King of Parthia"
Historiae VI by Sallust
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I am a man more poisoned against than poisoning.
That’s my version anyhow, and I’m sticking to it.
Don’t blame me for having survived a few meals
Which others, less fortunate, could not.
All that doesn’t help me now with Pompey at my throat.
Pompey, plunderer and bully, who has enough wit
Only to command a Materialschlacht,
But that is child’s play with Rome’s support.
Rome! Scourge of cities, tribes, peoples, nations, all mankind,
Were not the Pillars of Hercules, the western shores
Sufficient for your ravenous appetite
That your eagle eyes scan my realm?
O Phraates, King of Parthia still unvanquished,
Had you but lent your ear to me when together we
Might have rid the East of this ill-begotten son
Of Mars. Small the credit, so great the loss!
For Rome, unchallenged, bestrides the Great Sea. Eastwards
He surveys my mountains and your rivers, groves and plains,
No doubt beyond. Remember Alexander,
Who sacked glorious Persepolis.
You vainly sue for peace, like credulous Philipp once
When fondly strung along with Rome’s promises of “pax”.
And what of Carthage? Where now her wealth of gold
And purple? Barren her poisoned lands!
Mind you, I’m not well-placed on a high moral pedestal
When it comes to poisoning, but limits I respect.
A few enemies now and then, I admit,
Died at my table. The ham was off!
But the earth is sacrosanct. I never salted fields,
For Rome’s venom is stronger than aught I ever brewed.
Where shall this end? Shall Rome vanquish all nations?
Shall all cower to his bloody sword?
But Rome! With surfeiting the eaten, not the eater,
Prevails. The whole world is, even for iron digestions,
Strong meat. It is the sun, not Romulus, whom
East and West obey. Helios rules.
With Rome to east and Rome to west, then two Romes are there,
And I do fear for man and earth. The approach of death
Lends men insight. I fought, I won, I lost in war.
My spirit is still king. Sirs, your health.
The last round! Like Carthage we lose to Rome the third round.
Once more is the Gordian knot in twain. Quirites,
The gods look down. Remember Alexander,
Who died of fever in Babylon!
He’s 85 and he says he isn’t going to die.
Stooped over very badly, maybe two feet shorter now
than he used to be in his prime
and walking very slowly with his cane,
he insists on opening his own doors,
saying this while breathing heavily.
He refuses elderly care and drives a car.
He tells us he is never going to die.
Two surgeries since Christmas (nearly dying on the table);
two visits to ER this week alone;
with blood pressure so low it’s fightening,
oxygen the lowest of the low,
a pancreas with blockage, unhealthy lungs
and a heart that seems to scorn
the pacemaker recently therein inserted,
he tells us he isn’t going to die.
He says he wants to get around
to working on his beloved stained glass projects,
but they stay in his garage,
for he’s sleeping more and more.
He says he wants to write his autobiography, for
his life was fascinating; he invented things,
started up a business and had his dream house built.
Always he said he would not die.
Tonight he’s in ER having a cat scan.
He fell against his bathtub very dizzy, then threw up
and finally decided to call the paramedics.
Doctors can’t seem to help him further.
All that they can do for him they’ve done already.
He told us lately he’s been having dreams
about the wife he lost a year ago.
I bet he’ll say tomorrow that he’s never going to die.
(Written March 3, 2019 about a man well known by my husband and me. This year he is 86 years old and working on his stained glass projects)!
She comes not with love,
but with the scent of forgotten gods—
lilac laced with sorrow,
laughter hiding the abyss.
Her eyes do not see you,
they scan—
for cracks in your crown,
for wounds you wear like medals.
She knows you long to be seen—
so she becomes the mirror.
Reflects your power,
until it is hers.
She offers no war,
only surrender.
No blade,
only velvet ropes of praise.
You give her your fire
for a kiss that chills.
Your purpose, for a smile
that vanishes at dawn.
She does not need to conquer you—
you do it for her.
In the name of "love,"
you burn your kingdom down.
But she fears the one who sees.
The man who hears the whisper
beneath the moan,
the silence behind the scream.
He cannot be bought with beauty,
nor caged by need.
He names the mask,
and breaks the spell.
And she—
now powerless—
must return to shadow,
awaiting another crown to steal.
In our measure of the passing time,
Curious circles fill the counted days—
Numbered moments scarred by transiting light,
The heaven’s moguls bruise our joy and blight,
And give, and take, and measure what we mean.
Time, indifferent, measures us; it loops
Around the heaven’s span and grids the world.
Saturn still stutters—constant sorrow speaks—
Today recedes into tomorrow’s loss;
Yet clocks in circles go, and we pay cost.
O god of time, your circles go and go,
Returning slow, then turning wingèd, fast—
They come, they go—there’s time enough for love.
Meanwhile I scan the horizon with my mind,
And seek the curve of her Belt of Venus—fire—
A circumference of sunset reds that span
The sky; on sight she’s timeless, swaying slow,
A pendulum—its fixed foot steady—rings
My day; her pulse keeps measure as it swings.
And in night’s sanctuary, as we roll
On sweat-slippery fields of red-ochre bliss,
We kiss the kiss that turns and kisses back.
Then, as I watch her breathing come to rest,
Time stops—
and takes my breath away.
I see only dread
in the break of day
if I lie with my thoughts
they'll devour me
all concepts lead
to forked tongues
I trust nothing
as I know of the arrows
shooting left and right
until this dread is swallowed
starts to occupy within, by my own hand
and I cough it up
- examine its contents
mentally swing
from limb to limb
over reliant
on the gait cycle
mistaking stagger
for momentum
I need only step back
join the dots
scan the reference points
mindful
not
to
loop
infinity
predictions may be on the nose
observations kept intense
until curated
should I care to unravel them
I regress
regret
feel sorrow -
that every star-filled sky
becomes a named constellation
Inspired by Morning Star (L'étoile matinale) - Miro
Somewhere in the depths of us
The deepest depths of all of us
We want to feel higher up
And looking down can get it done
Didn't we curb urges to oppress
The ones we used to see as less
Weren't we so ranked at the sun's behest
That we saw sisters and brothers as less
Chin up they say, it's not that grim
At least your not like her or him
Or he or she or they or them
Your clean compared to her or him!
And deep down in the depths of us
The same deep depths of all of us
A conscience fights under its own banner
And holds us high to its own bright standard
Can a soul be lit by another's light
And know the darkness of its nights
Would all our wrongs turn into rights
If we see the darkness of its nights
Why perch on a ladder and scan with our eyes
When we ourselves are steps behind
Could be a billion steps behind
Bad time to look down, good time to climb
Old eyes
Feel wow,
Now spy
Joy now.
Old ways
Can style,
Bold play
Flings smiles.
Old touch
Curls round,
Seeds much
Sweet grounds.
Old zest
Born here,
Feeds quest
My dear.
Old form
Works well,
Love norms
Fond tell.
Old moves
Sweet stay,
Wise grooves
Can stray.
Old man
Speeds peace,
Fond scan
Words ease.
Old girl
In glee,
Love swirls
Sets free.
Old times
Floats out,
New rhymes
Now shout.
Old range
Feels nice,
New change
Hot spice.
Old sighs
Slow down,
Aged highs
In clowns.
Leon Enriquez
23 May 2015
Singapore
Anticipation as I take the test
Will I be pregnant again
Two lines appear
But what I feel
Isn't the best.
Dread and fear
Loom over me
How could this be
My face full of tears
I don't feel happy
I feel sad
And now I feel
So very bad.
Guilt rising up
This isn't fair
To the child
That is there.
How can I feel this way?
Will these feelings stay?
The first scan comes
It came really fast
But will this be my last?
My baby is healthy
But I feel the same
Will my feelings ever change?
As things progress I feel so strange
My baby is moving and dancing.
It's insane!
But my feelings remain the same.
Amidst their sheep and tranquil calm
shepherds huddle this silent night.
And a hallowed star shines so brightly
its brilliance dominates the sky.
As three wise men scan the night sky
their eyes get drawn to a new star.
And lo and behold, it’s moving
towards the town of Bethlehem.
Having never seen such a star,
they decide to follow it.
And it leads them to a stable
where a baby bathes in its light.
As the star's glow intensifies,
both man and beast fall to their knees.
For this manger is a holy place,
for, Jesus, our Savior is born.
(Blank Verse)
12/2/2015
As dark brooding skies weep with mournful rain,
I tread to hide tears of heartache and grief,
trying to staunch my lament, but in vain.
From love now lost, I've not yet found relief.
On cloudless days I scan harbor and shore,
distant horizons, for signs of a gale.
But I hear no rumbling of thunder's roar,
no hint of a downpour, lightning nor hail.
One day soon, I hope my sad heart shall heal
and I'll welcome the sun's warmth on my face.
Then, I shall no longer have to conceal
teardrops from missing my lover's embrace.
I shall be freed from sadness, freed from pain
as dark brooding skies weep with mournful rain.
~ May 27th, 2022 ~
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