The Coronation
Summer regains his stride
And strengthens the sun
The trees sway and the leaves shiver
And are still, drunk in the heat
The sky is a mountain lake
Arching blue from end to end
The dust rises and sweat springs up
Flies buzz lazily, maddened
By the aroma of small blue flowers
And wild weeds
The thieving cat pursues the sunlight
From pillar to pillar like a lusty lover
I am not a poet of nature
I am a man in nature
Dreaming of heaving seas of grass
Undulating in the sun
On some forgotten hillside
I am not a poem in love
I am the love in man
That delights in giving, in exploring
The sounds that my lover makes
As I bury my feverish face
Between her eager legs
I am not a poet
But an artist of impressions
That sketches the mind-
Thoughts, fantasies, abuses, winks
Inhaling intoxification
I raise a toast to the sun, and laugh
Meet me at the day’s end
As I sing the sun to sleep
And don my dark reeds
To welcome the wine-dark night
Meet me on a mountaintop
As I leap with a yell from rock to rock
I’ll show you where the eagle makes his nest
I’ll take you where rivers are born
Meet me by the sea
As I wash each grain of sand
In the lapping waves of eternity
I’ll hold you in my arms in the dappled shade
And sing you the sailor’s song
Meet me in the midst of men
As I sing of myself
And watch summer regain his stride
And strengthen the sun
-Beq 22.3.2006
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
7 comments:
By far the best poem I have read by anyone I know.
Daya
good stuff..on a metaphysical level too..who's the muse amy i ask?
Yeah.. who is the muse? she must be pretty and pretty darn good
None in particular. You could say she's a composite of a few. Now don't embarrass me :)
ohhh... I see.... are you blushing????
Nah, its all good I say. Nothing to blush about
Thank you anon. What's with the links?
Post a Comment