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Best Poems Written by Diana Thoresen

Below are the all-time best Diana Thoresen poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Red Moonrise over the Coral Sea

Unexpectedly
inspired by a Péladan jeremiad,
the red moon laughs at the sea
and the possum-ness of the possum;
Churlish blood rays remain

a never never world utterance of the jungle,
Every lupercalian dragonfly
conspires with brooding
red hibiscus flowers;

On a night like this,
all creation winces and endures
before melting into a black water mirage
of broken feverish brush strokes
and fruit bats in a mangrove swamp.

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Christmas Trees at Smithfield Central Doctors

"...in spring, the most delicate feathery yellow of plumes and plumes and plumes and trees and bushes of wattle, as if angels had flown right down out of the softest gold regions of heaven to settle here, in the Australian bush."

— D. H. Lawrence, Kangaroo

Paraboloid totems of evergreen hope, upside down,
Sparkling white trinkets, sparkling white dears;
‘What do we need to do now?’
You ask;
I got my husband’s winged blue stone gift around my neck, a dragonfly,
Isn’t my green dress an ornamental kingly shroud?


Both stormy and luminous, the cuts on my arms are still caked in dried blood,
You are sad: your heart bleeds into mine with a bit of emerald dust and ruby red sunrises;
The Doctor is the Rose; I am the Flame
You are all marble, Plato, self-contained,
I am grotesque, decaying, Lilith-born,
My scars are trim poodles


Whose slightly wolfish eyes
Will bleed a blazing cornucopia of yellow wattle sprigs;
Doctor, your heart is a gold mine and joyous as Spring

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Angelic Syzygy

The dark intestine of the sea
Swallowed a colony of moonlit bats,
God laughed and threw a new

Canopic jar of graceful waves
For Set and Horus to quarrel over;
God smiled again and the darkness

Stampeded over distant green hills,
Horus cried and Set fainted;
God grimaced and the luminous

Blackness enveloped every flower,
Ancient cliffs and ghastly crabs remained
Transfixed by limpid moonshine;

But the pale owl wrapped its feathers
Around the spirit of every paperbark tree;
Victorious as ever, Pallas traced

The eldritch mnemonics of the Big Dipper
To the earth and Arcturus
Rejoined in an angelic syzygy

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Narcissus

Echo, you dizzy tramp,
I’m searching for my soul;
Echo, I won’t white picket fence my heart
Inside your Jackie bag with brown rusty nails,

I’m searching for my soul,
Mirror images from the train windows kidnap me,
I’m a white hermetic monstrosity
The earth bleeds every spring,
I steal the souls of things with my camera;

O the awful love-pain of water reflections,
O the terrible grace I’m courting,
Confucius, go away;

My Heathcliff gaze finally meets
The white apophyllite eye of my tetragonal soul;
A thousand full moons exfoliate me like a leaf;

Grow my paperwhites in water rather than soil,
Put me next to a bright window before I’m gone.

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Star of the Sea

Star of the Sea, dolorous and Byzantine,
throw your royal blue cloak over me,

She who weeps, La Llorona in Kahlo’s Casa Azul, paint my heart
gold under a prehistoric cobalt blue vault of heaven,

The blue! The blue! I am spellbound by the blue!
Lapis and lavender blues of a shining Limoges Mary

And lotuses on faded old Amarna tiles whisper me tales
binding me to the secrecy of an ethereal blue rose,

Azure tropical waves caress a shore strewn with white coral,
Lady Isis, come into a sea-turtle guided dream;

Sky blue rays and fiery blue flames, walk with me and scribe my
Destiny on your crystalline turquoise tablets in etheric Gothic,

Turn me into pure sapphire light,
I am swooning into the soothing blue of every iris and cornflower,

The strange bird that had been singing all along in my heart --
it is blue

Details | Diana Thoresen Poem

Rococo Seduction

O lady, banish my monochrome days
and weave your coppery threads into
a dim red florescence of coyote words;
There you stand draped in beige chiffon

against the Tomistic piety of a striptease sea
continuously playing with creamy pastels,
O lady, gallantly unleash your plump cherubs
and licentious cats with that Guerlain

je-ne-sais-quoi witchery of your vanilla
perfume darts; throw a rain-soaked
dusty rose like Madame Pompadour,
I am flying into the sugary abyss of setting suns,

My whole world is tinted in Bouchet’s
Prussian blue and silks of flickering coral
as the dragons keep fighting in the heavens
to bring us April showers and champagne pearls.