Venus dropping chandelier dreams
Jupiter glides catching cocoa creams ~
I met Venus in Brockwell Park,
the air was calm, sweet as prophecy.
A book lay in my hand—
The Hammer of Witches.
She passed, her voice a soft enchantment:
“That book looks interesting—what is its name?”
I placed it in her hands.
Her eyes lingered. Intriguing…
We sat beneath the English Oak.
She asked if I believed in witchcraft.
I smiled—I read mysteries,
because reality hides there.
Her lips curved—then maybe I am a witch too.
We both laughed, shadows dancing.
Then her voice lowered:
If I tell you who I am,
perhaps you will run.
She whispered—I am Venus.
Born of Uranus, from Saturn’s blade.
Her words carved the air with sorrow.
Yet when I met her gaze,
our souls remembered.
I told her, I am Apollo,
the god of light and music.
Silence deepened—
our eyes locked, and worlds collapsed.
No flesh, only mind,
a burning union of ancient fire.
We flew through the sky of the soul,
witch and god entwined.
And when the vision ended,
only one truth remained:
When you see Venus,
you will see Apollo—
for in the end, we are one flame,
forever burning in exile.
Looking out my back door as the day slowly dies
the sun bleeding colours across the endless skies
of all the hopes I ever had
I never knew would come through
I was hoping for something would show me what to do
watching from my window the night was on the rise
the moon spreading silver above the cloudy skies
of all the dreams I ever had
I never thought would come true
I was dreaming of someone would tell me what to do
hold on to your dreams
(the planets and stars)
and you can fly to the Moon, Venus, Jupiter and Mars
followed my heart wandered into the night
with a case full of hopes wishes and desires
down the path less traveled 'twas a starry sight
and there at the beach I understood
I could be whatever I wanted to be
if I held on to my dreams
and remained true to me
As their twinkle
(starshine)
takes time travel from the past
and light years
(90 billion)
to arrive across a void so vast
altho' we've been to the Moon
(and back)
Venus Jupiter and Mars
how can our future lie
not here and now on Earth
but in the planets and the stars?
Morning Venus appears
inviting me to follow along
I won't, I'm not ready yet...
venus flytrap waits
for the next insect to come
for her next good meal
Perhaps I’ll tear my eyes away
Let my crimson spill and stray
Sew my wounds with piercing thread
If you’d love me though I bled
Death does not seem so grim
Nor does the noose’s cold, tight hymn
Summon Venus, my muse
Let her claim what I shall lose
Caress my flesh till breath runs dry
Let crimson drip as fingers tie
Stab me with empathy, raw and pure
Choke me with love-- my cure
Love me, love me, love me please!
Drain my body, let it freeze
Love me, love me, love me please!
If not, I will bring them to their knees!
…
[Before you get concerned, I wrote this not about someone else, but about me. I thought it would be interesting to portray someone trying to love themselves, but failing, so they almost force themself to love their own person.]
Sworn together by my troth my May bride
when joined were glad hearts on eternal date -
Rome did not fall nor the planets collide
and blessed by the Fates we did celebrate.
You wore pearls, rings of emerald and gold,
and girl, you and I an earthly child bore -
O’ Venus, heed my words that I have scrolled
for we were once the gods of Love and War.
No artful other, no fool’s inaction
will keep me apart or sworn vows undo,
and without further lapse or infraction
I rededicate my life unto you.
Keep me close and drawn to your mortal charms
and in the rescue of your loving arms.
Written: August 2004
Venus rages brightly tonight
But the night is thick with shame.
It doesn't cool my round thoughts
Nor hold my soul to the flame.
Some things just can't be said;
Neither can they be helped.
These things should be weathered -
And through it all - be felt.
Pieces of me - I try to collect
Before they can fall away
And I guard them - resolute
That something of those remain.
A crescent moon was visible
Last night from in our car
And close to it was Venus,
Shining like the brightest star.
It really was a special treat
To look up in the sky
And gaze upon such beauty,
Needing just the naked eye.
I’m such a sucker for the moon
So it was a delight
To be greeted by its presence
On a crisp and wintry night.
The Call to Venus
(A lone voice whispers as a ceremony begins)
Candles lit
In brazier pit
Like a reborn Prospero
Music playing
As offerings
Are lit
To summon the universe
And all who goes
To step in and commit
Guardians in
The Great In-Between
Guard us
And all our kin
From all unseen
Who flows
White lights
Bound
Around our homes
To guard against ghouls
From loosened tombs
Floating around like red balloons
We pray tonight
For astral protection
In all our rooms
As
Candles lit
In brazier pits
Burn
With
Music playing
As sandalwood offerings
And Christmas ferns
Are used as keys
Of devotional angelic magic
To turn away
All who conspire
And drink from the Devil's Urn
As we call to you
Venus
For protection
As the Great Wheel
Turns
So
Come our sceptre-bearer of harmony
And love to cope
Do ut de
Dum vivo
Repleti spe
(‘I give that you may give.
As long as I live. Filled with hope.)
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Tombs begin to bloom like raw, bloodless wounds.
Tomes are written with truths of her dead moon’s
tones. A keening lunacy keeps the dirges alive, while
bones rise out of repose. A degloved hand on the dial
hones into a night rainbow's radio, she runs on solar,
hopes for the rhythm to wrench free from her toller—
copes with the captivity of being bodiless hands. Twilight
comes to chance escape—open palms toward birthright.
Coves burst into flame; a hungry fire wants holier water.
Coven circles, recovers the skinless limbs of their daughter.
Woven like song, sirens' balm to restore coats of missing arms,
women are spells read correctly, using words as our alarms,
woken to language, resurrecting ancient pairs of sacred charms.
Beautiful car
Beautiful music
Beautiful woman
Beautiful smile
With gorgeous body
Absolutely on fire.
Sweet as honey
Smooth as wine
Venus your name.
What do you reckon Venus of Milos was doing when she was fully limbed?
Was she thinking
Deep thoughts
Holding the apple
Measuring the gravity
Of her life?
Was she, like Aphrodite,
Poised with a shield
About to march off
Into a battle
Confidence writ on her face?
Was she a Muse
Putting on her work clothes
Getting ready to go
Inspire some artist
To create works of beauty?
Was she Sappho
The Poetess
reaching out for her pen
to finally complete
one of her poems?
Was she spinning a wheel
To make a tapestry of Dreams
Or to weave time
Winding and unwinding
Moments lost and found?
Was she playing a Lyre
Singing timeless songs
Of loss and triumphs
Great loves and heartbreaks
And exciting adventures?
Or, dear reader,
Was she just a woman
Like you and me
Trying to go about her life
The best she can?
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