Musings on the façade of Seville Cathedral
How patiently they suffer, these old saints!
Their sandstone features, crumbled, vague,
some noses gone (some medieval ague,
or Time's cruel drip?) they offer no complaints.
Stranded seven centuries on this reef,
they bake, and wait resignedly, begowned,
for bell-tower shade slowly to inch around.
Do bas-reliefs experience relief?
This church was once a mosque. In point of fact,
the holy ancient venerable Gothic pile
(and here one struggles to suppress a smile)
has relatively recently been sacked,
and only lately put to Christian use.
These saintly faces, preternaturally mild -
do they still fret? Or are they reconciled
to slow decay, as hand or ear works loose?
And do they savour time as you or I,
observing how, below them in the street,
perukes give way to pony-tails and pleats?
Or do, for them, Septembers flicker by
like squandered seconds? Do they muse on Fate
and Destiny? What if my youth has gone?
What if this woman keeps me hanging on?
They also serve who only stand and wait.
Categories:
preternaturally, time,
Form: Quatrain
POEM PENNED PRETERNATURALLY
Too many misses of sprinkles
Wets the heart like little drizzles
Over the rags of time
The chasm between us couldn't be caged
By the eons of past pain
During our storm and rain
Thunder slice me off a heart of cold fury
Because anger rest in the bosom of fools
But the cold chill of your serendipity arouse every shivers
Like the toe poke of a baby when bathed
Our brotherhood, blossoming rose in the sun
A ripening wheat in a flourishing field
With a soft conscience to pacify the sun
The heat of the mo' can not asphyxiate a flame
Lighted by compassion, affection & name-identity
Soulnated with telepathy.
And to cross-eye again,
Every dog has its own day
Which keeps soul in blazing affection of anticipation
To subsequently engage brotherly communication.
VickWizzy
Written by: Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Titled by: Weiss Vae Mmendie
Copyright© 2016.
Categories:
preternaturally, 1st grade, for him,
Form: ABC
(Idle musings on the facade of Seville Cathedral)
How patiently they suffer, these old saints!
Their sandstone features, crumbled, vague,
some noses gone (some medieval ague,
or Time's cruel drip?) they offer no complaints.
Stranded seven centuries on this reef,
they bake, and wait resignedly, begowned,
for bell-tower shade slowly to inch around.
Do bas-reliefs experience relief?
This church was once a mosque. In point of fact,
the holy ancient venerable Gothic pile
(and here one struggles to suppress a smile)
has relatively recently been sacked,
and only lately put to Christian use.
These saintly faces, preternaturally mild -
do they still fret? Or are they reconciled
to slow decay, as hand or ear works loose?
And do they savour time as you or I,
observing how, below them in the street,
perukes give way to pony-tails and pleats?
Or do, for them, Septembers flicker by
like squandered seconds? Do they muse on Fate
and Destiny? What if my youth has gone?
What if this woman keeps me hanging on?
They also serve who only stand and wait.
Categories:
preternaturally, romantic,
Form: Quatrain
The exquisite purity of these notes surely
comes from God
reverberating in ripples
colliding with mountains
reflecting back in waves of
magnified grandeur too immense
for my small mind
A single ebony grand piano
rests on the desert floor
playing to howling coyotes, stately sahuaro
baby bunnies and blinking stars
keep rhythm
The night overfills with the symphony of heaven
pianist’s head bowed in reverence as
nimble fingers find before-unknown keys in
preternaturally glowing moonlight
I sit at my keyboard playing piano
ability so long forgotten --
Pachelbel’s Canon in D
Categories:
preternaturally, happiness, inspirational, love, music,
Form: Free verse