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Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Street Divinity

Burning Brew

I have no need of autumn,
Of a season where I view
Rose-leaves die from grieving
Youth burning in its brew,

Or of a voiceless winter's sum,
Where songs mute by a dawn
That enters with frozen feet
Leaves no sound to it at all,

Pregnant with the promise
Of summer's grand debut,
I have need of lusty spring
to melt all crystal ice virtue,

Where sun jeweled steps blaze
Quite white with the thought
Of moist dew in cooler shade
As the world nears taut desire,

It waits for me and I for it,
Which does the waiting well
I cannot tell, I simply flit
Inside the buzzing of its fire.


Backstreets to Divinity


like a new settee,
love tries to settle
uncomfortably on me,

tries to put its feet up,
but moves restlessly;
to look out of windows

at dark coffee-coloured nights,
to sight endless
revolving stars that thread
bordering cloud chateaus.


while sitting in me,
love feels the fear
of this deep charged sea,

watching galaxial buildings
in constant renovation,
where dusty stars wink out

in backstreets to divinity,
begrimed children worship
destiny's play of mischief

by black-holed up alley-ways
that curtain all light,
an unheavenly mosaic

of shattered hearts woven
into the stone
of divinity's distant streets,
for a hemi-angel's feet
to tread mercilessly.


yet love squirms deeper
making a space obstinately
in the now ageing settee,

as it follows footsteps
lit by headspinning stars,
it yearns for light,

which warmly shines
in other-worldly windows
for welcome guests

lost in such spaces,
a losing which means
becoming a celestial part
of a greater whole,
while it sits here,
resting on my soul.



before I met you
I thought I was here
to learn about life,

but now I know
I'm here to
learn about love.

Read more of my poems >>

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