“Go and catch a falling star.”
(John Donne)
St Barbara, a poor white gloved icy ingénue,
Has long been a dusty piece of Black Forest wood
That grew out of the ashes of Sibylline books;
The black stone is gone from the Palatine --
Only infinitesimal phantasmagoria of the sea
Dwells deep within the grave mound of the soul
Whilst carrying a torch clothed with the sun;
Nikola Tesla still feeds a pigeon every day --
It’s an aperiodic dolphin atavism.
Awakened by an unknown lyre,
Such things drink virtue from a moon beam;
Only Saturn, the herald of lavender hope,
Silently watches the humble bird
From the depths of our star-drenched earth.
Having to undertake my journey through life
I face unusual situations...This time with animals...
In the lagoon the alligator opens its huge mouth and orders me:
-Swim.
.. In the field, the sibylline serpent hisses:
- Walk...
. !In the cold white snow the scary wolf looks at me and howls:
- Pass.
.. On the prairie the fierce buffalo roars
- Ride..
.. At the top of the rock, cunning menacing lion studies me and snores: -
Come here,,,
I almost calmly admonish:
- I'm not stupid or anything else I tell them: "I don't obey your orders" ..
This is how I continue my journey. Being able to tell this story alive,,,! ...!
Boost the gleam and dazzle
sibylline embers shine in the gnome jade
spangled goddess sparkle
It meshes cosmic toggles of
golden clusters
on the burning dusk of a phoenix's wings.
chorus tunes that croon kudos.
peel away.
shepherds and seraphim
translucent term chorus
with cerulean rhythm
amidst the ictus of an elfish presong.
my pulse quickens.
fresh dawn awakens
happy new year 2023
Written: January 03, 2023
YOUR CHOICE 2023 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Phenomena of the Dawn
David J Walker
Sometimes the silence was true to its name
Allowing the quiet to remain
In its breathe deep Stage 5 rim sleep refrain
In visions of times that have not passed
A password wrapped tight in
A sibylline Delphian daydream at night
Envision the vain dissolution of the
Daydreams remains as the
Phenomenon of the dawn
Sets in
We're all an energetic force
maintaining it is the source
We're not made to be weary
reach down wow that's synergy
Our thoughts can wear us down
turn this rumination around
Let that light flow through
our body and mind in view
Tepid temperature is the ticket
as the water flows through a spigot
So wrap your heart around spirituality
and let its flood shape to bilaterally
This is my ethereal prophetic nature
do these things and ride on this portraiture
Having to realize my journey
Through life, i face unusual situations...
This time with animals.
In the pond the alligator opens its huge mouth
and orders me: swim ...!
In the field the sibylline snake , hisses :
walk...!
In the cold white snow
the scary wolf looks at me and howls,
pass...!
In the prairie the fierce buffalo, roars:
mount...
On top of the stone the cunning lion
studies me and snores:
come on !
Si i said:
= I'm not stupid or anything else
I tell you in all human calm:
"""I do not obey your orders" ...
This is how I continue my journey.
to be able to tell you ...,
The two-lane road stretches
through a shimmering glaze
to the horizon, passing
smokestacks of mesas spewing
clay and maize in vaporous mass.
I hear the sibylline whisper of rain
through emerald brush
and serpentine hiss
of slithering sand.
The acrid smell permeates
evergreen and purple sage,
carries the aroma
with fine dust.
I point my thumb west,
a prayer for a willing traveler
to whisk me away
from the cumulative downpour
when the desert paint
floods umber in the gullies.
birch silver
sibylline witch wood
leaves pristine
4/29/18
They have the look of lovers-
It is the tenderness of his tone when he tells of her
It is his fingertips trailing the curve of her bare shoulder
And lingering along her arm and
The small of her back-
It is in the rush
of color to her cheeks, the blush
And twist of her lips, the roll
and thrust of her hips when
She knows he is there-
It is the ripple and toss
Of her hair, it is the loss
Of his breath in her sighs
It is the touching of their eyes-
It is the sibylline heat
Of the words they don't speak
It is the rough of his hands claiming her skin
It is the line of her neck, the lift of her chin
It is his obsession to say her name again
And again, and again-
Mirrors of Truth Fear Us Not;
Reflections in you we seek.
BARE not the fruits of truth,
As prudentia of our vanity unmasked.
Oracle of fear;
To thee we attend at birth;
To thee we see not at death;
O! sibylline Natalis come forth.
Lead us within,
Where idle your light awaits;
Though with indignation we bow,
Unisons we rise.
Eternal we Are,
REFLECTIONS!
Far off, foreboding, doleful, true,
October's blood moon soars in view.
It speaks from raven, star-strewn skies
prophetic warnings for our eyes.
This night, to sage and seer known,
yields wisdom from your twilight throne.
Your crimson presence speaks in mime
sibylline missives for our time.
All eyes behold your burnished face
a-flight on its nocturnal trace.
Should we fear times both bleak and dire
as twilight burns with your cool fire?
And as your cryptic visage, red
stared back, the eastern stars did dread.
We feared celestial spheres would quake
to see night's crimson rune awake.
Ecliptic passing in our sight
on this apocalyptic night.
Twice in one year we've seen you swoon.
You haunt us, lonely, sanguine moon!
Blood Moon II
***written after second blood moon of
2014.
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