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Lemongrass Stevens Poem
“For do I now persuade men, or God? or do I seek to please men? for if I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ.” (Galatians 1:10)
In exile ‘midst the southern timbers’ walls,
My chamber bleeds the candle’s dimming thralls.
Upon the midnight blaze, I weep in vain,
Awaiting courts beneath Islamic reign.
For mother’s blood lay cold and carpet stained,
And thus the village pointed me to blame.
As peril looms and fate constricts my soul,
My heart grows dreary, sweat consumes me whole.
In shaking breaths, I glare above the coals,
The wooden cross reveals a burning gold.
“O’ Father, lay upon me warming hands,
Amidst this sea of wolves, I walk a lamb.”
I am the way, the truth, and the life:
no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.
In darkness shines his light of blinding grace,
Upon my chamber blooms his loving face,
He stands above me, arms in gold embrace,
As holy wonder sets my soul ablaze.
“My son, why dost thou meddle in thy woes?”
“O’ Lord, my soul lay barest in their throes.”
“And whoso dost thou fear, thy dove or crow?
For hearts of men lay barren ‘midst my throne.”
Be not afraid, only believe.
I wake, my chamber blind without a flame.
With peril knocking, father calls my name:
For do I heed the judgement of men,
Or the mercy of the Lord?
Copyright © Lemongrass Stevens | Year Posted 2025
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Lemongrass Stevens Poem
Atop thy holy hill,
Thy pine – so banished – weeps.
It reaches high for clouds of rye
But falters incomplete.
Atop thy holy hill,
Thy servants kneel and pray.
In holy stone thy bell atones
And beckons forth the day.
‘Why dost thou hide behind thy wooden doors…’
Copyright © Lemongrass Stevens | Year Posted 2025
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Lemongrass Stevens Poem
Alone the demon sleeps–
Alone the demon weeps.
Last night mother died–
Last night father cried.
Yet here I sit by the windowsill,
Watching the doves fly by.
Copyright © Lemongrass Stevens | Year Posted 2025
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Lemongrass Stevens Poem
O’ withered orchid; once
A blooming child devoid
Of weary, standing ‘midst
The evening sun, beneath
Its golden smile–now
Thy leaves of deathly bronze
Decay, sinking coarsely
Beneath the frail hemlocks
Who weep with hollowed bones.
“O’ withered orchid…
We miss thee, withered orchid…”
Copyright © Lemongrass Stevens | Year Posted 2025
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Lemongrass Stevens Poem
Dear Florence,
How the evening sun sets upon us,
To garnish the sky in marigold wreaths;
For it sprouts the mist of heavenly light,
The myth I wish to garner from thee.
O’ deathly lady, speak unto me truth,
Does beauty cower ‘neath thy sanctum of stone?
Or perhaps it hides within moss ridden yards,
And loves anew each death it’s outgrown.
O’ deathly lady, veiled under the breeze,
How I envy thine eyes lain barest at dawn;
Awaiting the sun through tender spring leaves,
And blinding thyself – awake to true beauty.
Florence Margaret Mainland
(Nov. 25, 1903-June 8, 1925)
Mound Cemetery, Racine, Wisconsin
Copyright © Lemongrass Stevens | Year Posted 2025
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Lemongrass Stevens Poem
Once upon a summer’s qualm,
I searched about the river, tangled –
The heron spread her bosom wings,
And upstream we flew
Until the sun melted, and the
Maple trees betook her gleam.
I spoke unto her,
‘O how terribly afraid I am,
The moon is out to get me!’
She smiled, and nothing more;
And ‘way forth did the heron take me,
To vanquish me at my front door.
Copyright © Lemongrass Stevens | Year Posted 2026
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Lemongrass Stevens Poem
The angel of the moon –
She spoke so softly
Upon the forest:
‘Our river weeps the passage
Of her soil unto starlight.’
I feared upon that dreary –
Her beauty had taken me,
And enclosed my lovesick soul
In the eerie stillness
Of hemlock shadows.
But deceiving me in darkness
Was my old, tarnished friend,
And together did we leave
Along the Root River way.
O’ Lemongrass, how many times do I have to tell you!
Copyright © Lemongrass Stevens | Year Posted 2025
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Lemongrass Stevens Poem
Upon our wicked heads–rain down
Your lovesick gift;
Of cloudy birthright,
Enthrall my vile seas–
Make heaven of
This autumn forest;
I wait to rot
Amidst your trees.
Copyright © Lemongrass Stevens | Year Posted 2025
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Lemongrass Stevens Poem
Upon a peculiar summer night,
When the moon’s freckled grin
Yet possessed a wrinkle,
I wandered forthwith, into the solitude
Brushing upon the forest’s edge.
Through strangled brush and crowing groves;
Upon twisted soil and mossen branches,
My aching feet beckoned inward,
Until nature’s course revealed to me
Your river – pierced upon reflection
Of the moon’s sparkled tears.
Her sorrowful eyes as I wept
Burnt my heart in narrow affliction;
Though fellow men had possessed her,
None had addressed her somber glow
Upon the writhing hemlocks.
Rather, they loved her from afar
In hollow stone castles
Hung above the whistling leaves,
Crowding the black horizon
In shadows tapering their shade.
O’ Reverie, said I upon her,
Has my love no home in this garden?
Lo!
Lo, behold my love!
Of my sparkling reflection,
Sing to me in silence my love!
Where the moonlit howls
Upon this stream form me,
Be there,
Be there my love.
Copyright © Lemongrass Stevens | Year Posted 2025
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Lemongrass Stevens Poem
Amidst thy grassy sea,
Stands a lone cottonwood tree.
A man of red–
His many feathers
Scatter like dust–
Away in the wind.
Amidst thy cottonwood tree,
Lies a man who once was free.
A man of blue–
My musket, aflush
A sacred scarlet–
Stricken with iron.
‘Thy brother’s blood crieth unto me.’
My blank canvas,
Suspends in time–
For I – I
Hath begotten flames–
Unto this rich plain
Of gold.
My brother in red–
He is dead–
And my sin hath killed him.
In shaking tears,
I run out into the sky–
Chasing his feathers.
Copyright © Lemongrass Stevens | Year Posted 2025
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