Sun ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ melancholy star!
Whose ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ beam glows tremulously far,
That show'st the darkness thou canst not dispel,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
So gleams ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ the light of other days,
Which shines, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
A night-beam Sorrow ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Distinct but distant ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ oh how cold!
(Blackout of Sun of the Sleepless! by George (Lord) Byron)
as bliss magnetism spikes, we cannot bear
heightened rapture that within form pulsates
although no doubt God tends to us with care
in spasms of delight our body gyrates
poised thus tremulously at heaven’s gates
there’s a limit to bliss form can contain
more so when ego is yet to be slain
Aster of September, summer wanes.
The shining sky of dusk is drenched in splendor.
Tremulously, I watch shadows that arrive.
Too soon, they purloin sun’s last rays.
Aster of September, Virgo aches.
You bloom till your breath is snatched away.
lonely heart tremulously beseeches
the inky black void
the universe responds, bliss fills us
delusion’s destroyed
a verse begins to be formed in mind
heart distils emotion
presence draws by resonance elixir
of love’s magic potion
lower mind would have us so believe
in attainments unreal
save holding God’s hand like a child
nothing holds appeal
within darkness too, we see the light
it’s glow self-luminous
we’re now way past the stage of fear
bliss rise is continuous
Snow falling softly o’er the meadow
Banking against the old rail fence,
It creates a magnificent afterglow,
I haven’t seen like it before, or since
This display formed by the recent snow.
Ice crystals forming on dried stalks
Creating a wonderland of fairy castles,
Shining like bubbling neon on a jukebox
Tall gray goldenrods becoming tassels,
Glistening droplets on the dried phlox.
With the waxing sun, it shimmers
Tremulously as the wafting breeze pants
I recall in summer the meadow simmers
Full of vibrant, living warm weather plants
But now the meadow only icily glimmers.
Written December 1, 2022
The cat eyed the dog, warily
The dog licked his lips, hungrily
The cat backed away, tremulously
The dog edged forward, intimidatingly
The cat retreated faster, alarmedly
The dog zeroed in on her, aggressively
The cat let out a screech, panic-strickenly
The dog leaped for her throat, murderously
Let's pause this video clip, momentarily
And ask a couple questions, inquisitively
Why did the dog want to kill the cat, instinctively
And why didn't the cat beat a hastier retreat, curiously...
(Please click to restart the clip)
The dog paused in mid-air, hesitatingly
The cat sighed a little sigh, relievedly
The dog smiled a faint smile, sheepishly
The cat me-owed once, tentatively
The dog's smiled widened, perceptibly
The cat shed a tear, joyously
The dog hugged the cat, lovingly
The cat basked in his embrace, snuggly
Finis
May 09, 2019
Winds of a Frozen Wasteland
Winds blowing down the mountain silver capped so cold,
Howling fiercely with a herculean ferocity rarely ever seen.
A cold snap cuts straight and deep now to one’s very bones,
As one’s body trembles tremulously teetering toward a fall.
Beloved baby black crows roost inside their snug warm nest,
As a hail-driven breath spits its hardened bullets piercing now.
On this frozen wasteland of one’s soul—a lone rooster crows,
Seeing, feeling soft sunlight rays stroking his proud chest pure.
He’s puffed up now breathing boldly the brisk cold morning air;
Singing with wondrous conviction true of daylight’s awakening.
This lone rooster knows the gifts of nature’s frozen wasteland,
As the warm sun’s ebullient eyes flash bright inside dark jewels.
A crystal fountain baptized with Heaven’s own purest light,
Appears as the sun warms a land frozen nightly by the winds.
Dewdrops cometh forth as those teardrops of life growing anew,
With brightest beginnings for God’s hallowed frozen wasteland!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – May 1, 2016
(Unrhymed Couplet)
Winds blowing down the mountain silver capped so cold,
Howling fiercely with a herculean ferocity rarely ever seen.
A cold snap cuts straight and deep now to one’s very bones,
As one’s body trembles tremulously teetering toward a fall.
Beloved baby black crows roost inside their snug warm nest,
As a hail-driven breath spits its hardened bullets piercing now.
On this frozen wasteland of one’s soul—a lone rooster crows,
Seeing, feeling soft sunlight rays stroking his proud chest pure.
He’s puffed up now breathing boldly the brisk cold morning air;
Singing with wondrous conviction true of daylight’s awakening.
This lone rooster knows the gifts of nature’s frozen wasteland,
As the warm sun’s ebullient eyes flash bright inside dark jewels.
A crystal fountain baptized with Heaven’s own purest light,
Appears as the sun warms a land frozen nightly by the winds.
Dewdrops cometh forth as those teardrops of life growing anew,
With brightest beginnings for God’s hallowed frozen wasteland!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – May 1, 2016
(Unrhymed Couplet)
The darkness in the night.
A true terror to behold .
Sneaks up on you like,
A pack of ravenous wolves .
Gnashing it's teeth .
Thick, coarse black fur,
to ward off the cold .
Razor sharp teeth,
to rip out your soul .
Its fierce black eyes,
tremulously unclosed .
Sending shivers
down your spine .
It's tremendous jaws,
unclench with a snap .
It's stealthy attack,
comes to fast to react .
There's no moon, no light.
Just the darkness in the night .
Bite, bite . . .
Rest, stirring heart,
Narrow-minded in your fears, courage close awaits
Though bold your words be,
Your lack of action gives you away and despairs you
I am amused by your imaginings,
For simple these worries be,
And strange is your heightened sorrows,
A sadness fit for the about-to-die children,
Begging the snares to let them go...
And yet you have that sorrow...and lovely and safe you be...
Rest your head not on man's shoulder
Instead, lay upon the golden cushions of My word-
Where rains of treasures and fruits gently fall,
Laced with peace-garnished with happiness...
Your brothers share deeply in your concerns,
Alone you never are,
For look! -out upon the beads of leaves,
How they rustle playfully and sway with the breeze
My breath gives them life-
How much than shall I give thee?
This I tell you, daughter,
Each lonely soul shall find true love,
In between the rests and silences,
On the very off-beat... on the tip of quietude,
True music tremulously trills,
Flattening all mountains and hills,
Kissing their lowered heads and wiping their glacier tears-
Long-patiented love insatiated
~Fingertips That Touch The Lips~
Fingertips that touch my lips
Breathing deep and hot
Should the lips touch?
The fingertips say not.
A cheek fanned by hot breath
Fingertips strolling round
Self control condemned to death
Sinking- nearly drowned.
Tremulously the lips meet
Sparks let loose and fly
From now on we’ve lost
We just gonna chase that high.
Fingertips that touch the lips
What is one to do?
Breathing deep and hot
The lips that now touch you.
©
~GG~ 1/10/2012
Lethargic verbs coax sleepy nouns
along verses of poetry
in the wee hours of the night.
A flickering fluorescent Light
tremulously glows its paleness
above the weary poets head,
each tremor depriving him sleep.
The first rays of sunlight shine through
the rooms window, devouring
the artificial annoyance
while his tired head slowly descends
onto his outstretched left forearm;
the pen still resting in his hand
while his dreams devise completion.
Tremulously as in a dream
I forget my place.
I wander the night air
the smell of attar.
I reach the bottom gradation
The hill of my life thereupon.
Black sax notes the air
Feelings; crash; symbols.
Needle eyes, tortured bones.
Over head;
fire and ice,
radio lies; and sigh.
The anathema won't take long now.
Children with life burning in their souls.
Somewhere, there is joy
also there is weeping.
Crisp cool chardonnay drenches their lips,
it's flavour running rivulets over their tongues
eyes widen over the candlelit table,
and he thinks about giving her sons
Rich sticky risotto slowly prised from bowls
mouthfuls devoured in anticipation
he wipes his mouth with emphasised lust
and she thinks about sensual elation
Chargrilled sardines stare eyes from their plates
she plucks them away, eats them whole one by one
his leg quivers tremulously under the table
her sweetness burning like african suns
Creamy crem brulee drips from their spoons
slips down their throats, placating their hunger
he presses his appetite firmly to hers
her thighs draw him in to taste erotic thunder
Aster 'Blue Autumn,' summer wanes.
The shining sky of dusk is drenched in splendor.
Tremulously, I watch shadows that arrive
all to soon-to purloin sun's last rays.
Aster 'Blue Autumn,' Virgo aches,
and you're re-birthed from star dust that she cries-
to bloom beneath blue skies until the fatal time
when breath is snatched . . . Pensively I wait.
Inspired by the Aster flower named Blue Autumn
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