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W.P. Vandam Poem
The slowest clocks bind the official wound,
An azimuth of the flesh, trust, first contact,
She blinks but no face appears,
Does every mistake ask for such an ordinary end? A seed cannot forget.
Cold, weeping statue of lifetimes, suckle her prayer in the erupting bed.
Fallen beside the tear of the flower blight, lips against the penetrator,
Learn to forgive the righteous terrors for an idle comfort.
What numbing freedom presses the soft lump pulse?
Tongues rally to expose the ghost of private remorse,
Who conceals the dignities of a suction thigh grave.
--2009
Copyright © W.P. Vandam | Year Posted 2010
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W.P. Vandam Poem
We are the foes of dawn
Our secrets slow the light
The blood of stars is drawn
We guard the wounded night
With evening azure treads
Fur-wreathed in thick wild scent
Ancient horn ripples air
A cool, rich chorus spreads
Knees to lynx lords are bent.
Sable stealth rules our lair
Two owl eye gems flash pale
Descend the forest’s deep
Through wisps of hills we stare
At shapes prowling the vale
Gently the dim whirls creep
Our moss hands cup the earth
Soft witch of vapor gleams
Awake from roosting sleep
Claws and beaks stretch in mirth
To swim all movement seems
Cloaked spirits groan and stir
Turning with heavy frown
We melt their slow dense dreams
Buried in pathless blur
Dripping enchants all sound
Wolf druids veil our spell
Hunting grey breaths that spy
This first magic surrounds
As rings of moonglow fell
Curled banners churn the sky
Beacons flame eastern cloud
Their warmth seeps through the glade
Our flesh like stone defies
The fire of dawn’s shroud
Oaks unsheathe giant blades
The dragon’s head is gold
Fierce glint on wings is worn
It swoops where fawns have lain
Beyond the shadows’ fold
Rising drums drive the storm
We charge the roaring scourge
Clash of frost, sun, and dust
Our silver mail is torn
Green hordes to the gate surge
With blazing bronze they thrust
To the blue wraith we yield
The song of spears, swift bane!
Sylph flight through the haze gusts
Piercing helmet and shield
We glimmer ere we wane
Scattered on dewed leaf rune
Our opal crown is gone
Yet our dark realm shall reign
Above the mortal noon
We are the foes of dawn
Our secrets slow the light
The blood of stars is drawn
We guard the wounded night
--2007
Copyright © W.P. Vandam | Year Posted 2010
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W.P. Vandam Poem
Of youthful musings,
Sad and sweet,
Of sorrows passing, soon to greet,
All remembrance, hushed and still,
As each lost moment may entreat
Steadfast desires,
Once fulfilled,
To rest, but never will.
Of blind affections,
Kept with care,
Of cold promises, havens shared,
In a tear, a touch, a smile,
Each expression becomes bare,
So glowing gardens
Can beguile
A heart, for but a while.
Of mirrored image,
Palled, enshrined,
Of embrace emptied, lured in time
And distance, bridged for wistful eyes,
When doubt will bond, or grief confine
The strange, warm kiss
That relies,
And covets, and denies.
Of tender whisper,
Faint but near,
Of passion’s echo deferred here
To relieve the cherished hurt,
Slow with purpose, strained, unclear,
Swoons the final breath,
Re-stirred,
By small farewells, unheard.
--2007
Copyright © W.P. Vandam | Year Posted 2010
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