I’d like to look for—the spry-blossom, called Phoebe
There is nought as virtuous, or saintly, as the white gypsy...
I’d like to find me—that last green forget-me-not
What matter the cost, if I don’t hit the jackpot...
I’d like to look for—the pale goddess of the moon;
She unto me should be a sun, and I her Neptune!
If she would but, peel me in her “bergamot-palm
...Sister of Apollo”. I’d shyly-sing my last, psalm...
Lie with me; with the trident in Poseidon, crowned:
Enter within me, all thy eternity newly bound...
Love, let no mountain-shade you’re innate-fancy
Earthquake: Wild horses, shall not tether my fiancée.
Like the smoking-waves upon the sirens-shore
I’ll descend to meet her when, the rocks of thunder-roar.
When the foam of perfection is my narcissi
Reflection-transformed; answer then why we’re so tawdry.
Answer me why? Like the sea, forever u-turned:
These lover’s hearts like flowers be spurned..?
Comments
well-wisher | February 6, 2011 - 11:53
Good poem.
I like the lines "Like the smoking-waves upon the sirens-shore I’ll descend to meet her when, the rocks of thunder-roar"; they conjure up beautiful images as well as the sound of the sea.
I've never stood on the seashore and looked at the moon but I'm sure its very beautiful and the story of Endymion has always been one of my favourite Greek myths.
skinner_jennifer | February 6, 2011 - 13:17
Hi Mark Heathcote,
This is such a powerful piece. When I read the words,
they almost seemed to explode with passion.
Thanks for the enjoyable read.
Jenny.