reguiny2006 Poetry (108)

Once we journeyed to explore
the Northern icy roar,
flushed with childish infancy
it ways ourselves to see,
quiet treasures there did find,
unknown before to Southern minds,
amidst some spinney green lit grove,
nature's splendour carefully wove,
where scented thoughts belong,
the noble artistry of nature's song,
now interned in a murky bower,
grandeur's fire now turned sour,
here, Longhill's jewel wrapt in cloak,
by stately Beech, Ash and Oak,
masked in all its misty gloom,
as a dying flower that once did bloom,
now eroding time of all that's left,
awaits the lingering pain of death,
yet fervently and proudly still
stands the monarch of this captive hill,
in quiet lines of beauty's grace,
its architect with care did trace,
and ancient man with mason's pride,
his sculptured craft with skill applied,
with visions belief as God adores,
like oft their fathers did before,
artisans, butlers, maids and all,
were naught but puppets to this Hall,
Alas! They long since have gone away,
alone, to life's fast fading day;
still, lofty trees stand guard the door,
their leafy shadows seemingly implore
some guardian fate, that fate may know,
with torch, to renew its fired glow,
With fear my burning heart grew cold,
knowing youth lay in some distant fold,
along with flowers of springtime spent,
Alas! Naught have I to employ,
nor sinful wealth its spoils enjoy,
but there is time yet to live,
an English heart it breath to give,
so, not whilst I breathe,
shall ruinous time conceive
the erosion or the fall,
the history of Longhills Hall.

Oh! What potent fate did happy childhood steal,
what sullied hate did crush young pleasures real!
Poet! Thou with powered words attend,
to quash the sordid deeds of soulless men,
wilt thou address dark loathed cruelty,
that gushes praise to odorous infelicity,
where torturous winds reap harsh howling rain
and lighting vexed that strikes with pain,
whose thunderous agony whips like daggers keen.
Cold, tremulous, shuddering voice doth evil lean
upon those serpent thoughts, what carnal ingenuity
solicit vile cancerous seed's impious obscenity,
to ulcerate virtue's natural creed of maiden shy or boy,
by mind corroded, with lust perverted joy.
Could'st nature dear, with many a cloak veneer,
insulate the child from future's shame and fear
and thereby quench the burning scars of wretched infamy
that serves the rushing blood of pale iniquity?
Enforced pale countenance and frail boyhood,
what fire will fuel the pride of adulthood?
Heir to ingenious wounds courts many a silent blush,
echoing tears that inner cry, sealed in a shameful hush,
must await! Healing wings of angelic poetry
pulsate within the victim's heart in young antiquity;
We, by honoured words more copious than its deeds,
speak of harvest that's not sown with seeds.
Best pray! One prism light, fancy full and gay,
colour the darken wrong, ignite the morn of day
with vestal serenity, on sparkling air's own harmony,
to dream love's dream with exulted ecstasy
as a flowered fragrance, to kiss the perfumed brake,
kindling embers sweet that on lover's cheek awake,
with soft sighing breath, roam as breezes free,
with naked music, innocent in all its infancy,

Alas! Granite by time hath harder riven,
vision shaped the scars of hell's own heaven,
will oft invite again bitter grief and tear,
love- lost eyes, where no bond may hold it dear.

Eyes I spoke of once, words that burnt then,
hands that cupped soft thy lovely face,
took me from myself for such a space
of time, marked me out from other men,
the waving hair of unmixed gold that shone
amid smiles that flashed with Angelic rays,
used to make this earth, a paradise ablaze,
are but now a little dust, all feeling gone,
I grief stricken, its darkness foreign to me,
alone where light I cherished never shows
in that fragile bark strewn on tempestuous sea,
so, let my loving song come to a close,

as this my Lyric turns to tearful sigh,
the vein of my accustomed art is dry.

Pray! who said winter's bloom
flowered bright too short a day,
how thy faint sun burns bright to groom,
love's grace in short hours grey,
Alas for thee, no May freshly green,
nor star showered coloured rainbow known,
nor sweet airs on soft summer serene,
where blushing scents of youth's roses blown,
Yet from thy untarnished winters sun,
shall e'er a glorious moment reign,
through heaven's snowy candlelight, run
the warmth of love's joy, to sustain
the heart and leaves the world not cold,
whilst we with tear, thru' life our love unfold.

Love's destiny, thus two rough diamonds drawn
in the opening hours of loves exclusive dawn,
whence from the infertile mundane shore,
love polished bright its glistening facet store,
highlighted vowed love, to be friendship personified,
where each and every caressing detail amplified,
like as, the touch of hands e'er so importantly,
as the sweet and secret realms of intimacy,
though clouded skies there well may be,
when sombre portends challenge loves philosophy,
would'st pleasure scupper sacred vows integrity,
remember, ever burning bright is loves illuminosity,

Thus, the simplicity, that love and marriage
is a special journey, in life's upholstered carriage.

Once I lived by Oman's seas,
with time and tides consistency,
her sun-drenched shores in golden span,
where Mohammed ne'er has changed his plan.
How heaven looks on in starry smiles
upon her balmy, tropic pearly ilses
and Arabian tales its teller tells,
along her blue-lit water swells,
in all its pedestrian faultlessness
live humble origins of happiness,
where no subtle devious laws apply;
for eye is taken for an eye,
honour's pride, a deed that's taught,
more precious, than life caught
in fine silks or woven tapestries.
For knowingly, stolen truth deceives
with false words, human dignity
profits not greed's profanity,
that with malevolent ease spermed
detested rape and virtue to carnage turned.
Mecca's eastern temple's soft embrace
counsel prayers, richer life may trace
to seek, not youth's custom bold
of stars in vain that only heaven hold.
Good earthly minds with virtue fill,
mastering low passion's prolific ill,
save gluttonous fools, whose greatest store
is wanting abundance more and more,
vast grown in jewelled- bespeckled misery,
focus only silvered coins treachery.
Scales of justice there bestow
judgement, the rapier strikes its blow,
handed down from ageless time
behoves the scales of justice divine.
Thus doyen and sweet child
breathe Arabian soft perfumes mild;
oft thy pleasured memories I will draw
upon, all that my eager eyes once saw,
vaults of memory, thou for me have made
to light the dull edge of black day.

Last night the howling wind its torment bore,
upon the rugged Oak its anger tore,
and how the mighty thunder did shout aloud
its wrath to the heavy laden cloud,
whose burning light would not cease,
to remind the guilty there'll be no peace,
for the turmoil of the spume flung seas
had silenced the gentle southern breeze;
thus, from the dreary winter's rain,
the dreaded news o'er the ether came;
so the wise with futile brain
will life's understanding, its mystique claim,
for all their eloquent articulated words
just makes the parting more absurd,
that in ignorance, mock her loving flame,
for loves lies deeper than just a name,
So, the sweetness of the pure white rose
will the Surrey air a fragrance blow,
thy precious dust will perchance abound
a richer flora to the barren ground,
and transmute the sombre winter scene,
to paint forever the greyness evergreen,
and every songbird echoing Spring
shall rejoice in love that you did bring.
Though thy earthly candle no longer burn,
the spirit to me shall oft return,
in poignant memories recalled to dream,
that tread the paths where you have been.
So, stripped bare of all my conscious pride,
when like a child, I wept, I cried,
and cried and cried so many tears,
enough to fill the oceans' million years,
for all the years that were too soon,
this earth to lose a flowered bloom;
for long I've questioned and asked why
your haste to torch the vespers sky.
Alas! Life's course, powerless to re-arrange,
once destiny deems it will not change,
So, heart consoled- that, that was your eye,
now the fairest jewel in God's sky.
But oft in gloom and in desperation stare
at the emptiness, the lonely fireside chair,
and wish and wish again that I could hear
the cheerful pleasant 'Hello Dear',
but most of all with aching heart shall miss
the softness of that parental kiss.

England, my honoured service dun,
freed from servitude, I fly, I run
to that gentle earth, that verde antique,
my native isle, its praise to seek,
to stroll along her arcades green
and meet again my Goddess queen,
obsolescent dreams yield to hopeful sighs
by the welcoming dews of paradise,
where jeweled bride of night appear,
amid celestial diadems consistent sphere,
where stars like sequins spread,
translate mysteries of love are read,
creative heaven sires to bring,
love lit flowers of perpetual Spring,
amid those realms, altruism concur
the truth of virtue that honours her.

How great thy vista to my eyes abound,
when late of time, I viewed mt Southland down,
fond childhood memories bid mt heart re-call,
times, when all the trees seemed so tall,
but now, the burning coals of fading day
ignite twilight moments where magic colours play,
and yon not forgotten village lies
harmoniously beneath its genial skies,
its people's thatch and heavens spire,
are gently washed with sunset's living fire,
whilst graveyards' cherished ancient Yew
reach down to kiss the coloured painted dew,
and evening primrose within its shade
with contrasting hues here displayed;
and all that sleep in hedgerows wild
live freely, like as the spirit of a child
whose innocence breathes the air of play
of rapturous joy like this ebbing edge of day,
to await morning's green-mantled care,
as day dissolves in all its wondrous flare,
such artistry each captured rainbow bring
the blushing tints of sweet remembering,
as woolen clouds, their floating charms interlace
the chasing sun, warmth of time, everlasting grace,
So, when the breath of life's no more,
my spirit shall stay by the waters of the Stor.

Oh! Subtle touch attend, the needs of poetic pen,
intermingling phrases drink the long dried latent ink,
its music betwixt lines apply, bY the hand of harmony,
pulsating rhymes show an ethereal delighted glow,
from lofty spheres again, its joy from rain
to quiet fall unbroken, as thunder yet silent spoken,
symphonic sounds for us, from purest notes melodious,
teach happiness accrue, the wealth of love pursue,
from caverns' deepest cell, echo love's poetic spell,
rewarding toiled chore with stardust from the meteor,
by its light tracking canopy, illume the dark and trackless sea.
Thus enchantingly silver spun, thro' ageless years has run,
serves love a happier knot, along her streaming banners slot,
ever tied to harmonious thought, the icon of virtue taught
piety dwell the muse of it, safe from betraying fools of wit,
find we here on the earth, tongued men of little worth,
oft recite with smoothest tone, words that they do not rightly own,
then with transparent visage tell, all they cannot answer well,
with voice like streamlets running, naive depths of shallow cunning,
forget the pain, forget the folly that blackens day with melancholy,
leave drowsy realms of Morpheus, and harken sweet to Orpheus,
where evening vespers gaily spin,the noiseless web, fragile thin,
cradles sleepy shadows fine, where zephyrs sweep the odorous pine,
with fragrant breath of evening dew, rustling whispers filtering thru,
where we oft in disbelief, hear the harp on falling leaf,
gently moisten so the ground, float, to garnish earth a coloured coat,
leafy companions tree hung store, join in its choir, oft before
summer's scented stirring breeze, echoed o'er the slumbering leas,
breathes its opium incensed tale to herdsmen of the lowly dale,
whose laboured day's timeless clock, toil their charge that ambition mock,
with heart directed eye ever keen,pour love on pastures green,
till past the sun at eventide, whilst moon peeps thro' heavens wide,
steers his stock to homeward Oaks, where cottage chimney gently smokes,
and children skirt the welcome fire, with greedy kiss his cheeks attire,
nightly there he silent took, parental pleasures at the inglenook,
unspoken love joy and care, at his weary side they snuggled there,
with sparkling eye would them entreat, antique stories of heroics feat,
where Knights rescued maidens fair, from the evil clutches of despair,
crusading tales so timeless old, peoples champion fearless bold,
nightly, they'd the same tales hear,caressing balm the infant ear,
love warmed air's silent creep, lull the eye to peaceful sleep,
love unwritten in sand or dust, but in longevity of parental trust,
that we must nurse to ever groom, through the bright, through the gloom,
to burn love's flame serene and pen the poet's hopeful dream.

Roses are flowering her in Brittany,
like as a Nun's God given care,
cloistered robed in unsung divinity,
flourish in its soft fragrant air,
far from Winter's deep untrodden snow,
in unearthly ways weaves her spell,
loves quietude, like bounteous rivers flow
revive the spirit more than words can tell,
thus with thee here and with my heart,
the Rose's perfume shall around us play,
intoxicate the hours of our hand held day,
where silence sweet, soft thoughts impart,

Embrace with me this earthly care,
words but vain where love is rare.

Friendship shall halt the power of time,
like boyhood days that seem not to fade
amidst those long lost spheres sublime,
when, to unforgiving time we joyous played,
rare such virtue true, slumbering sweet
with thoughts more rich than gold,
its voice unknown to thunders roll, entreat
the heart that ne'er grows old,
united, bonds mutual strength, thus found
a hallowed ground, much blessed, heroic deep,
harvest sweet unspoken words profound,
where love's silent voice its honest tokens keep,

friendship gilds the value of each weary day,
annulling, all life's stormy paths away.