Of Light: Poems From The Tower

[Sirios Skywolf]

This is...my poem. Well, my poems, really. Just a quick intro, and then I'll start showing off my unbelievably terrible poem skills.

I'm a christian. Sorry to throw that sometimes offensive (sometimes debatable) fact at you (I have no idea if you're offended or not, dear reader, but I don't usually assume in the positive, so I apologize if this doesn't speak to you.)

I'm also an ass. A pompous one. I curse, I listen to loud music, I embrace a bizarre mix of cultural influences. My poetic idols are Dickenson, C.S. Lewis, Novelis, and G.K. Chesterton, as well as Rablais and Keats. I am an angry man who yells out against the crowd (Of course, isn't everyone else?). I'm a romantic. I argue and debate. And I am not one to back down, but that may  be the irish in me talking.


THIS is MY poetry.




This poem doesn't have a title, because of the very thing it advocates.

never the less, this poem is filled topful with my ideas of love, as well as other things. I sincerely hope you enjoy...I know I loved writing it!



"She is my impersonal angel

She serenades me from worlds away.

Her voice is a thousand different melodies;

every song I've ever heard resonates with the voice of her lips.

She encompasses the width and breadth of life itself

She does not hesitate, but smiles

Though in dreams only am I granted perception

Though in dreams only am I of a right to see.

She is hidden from me

Though I feel her always

She awaits me

In the bower of the Forest

In the cavern of the mountain

She is nature

She sings for me

with the voice of ten thousand angels

Her face is hidden;

The dirt of this world hides it.

Men mock her, decrying her form

She is not the slavering beast they have called for

Yet more passion has she

Than any dumb animal

Or lower beast of burden.

her form is worn at every increment of life

I have seen her aged face

The face that knows so well

Every inch of her is a testament to the survival of the timeless.

I have glimsped her as a child

Brimming to the edge with incipient womanhood

Every step she took was faltering

But bravely she strode on the road of Travel.

I witnessed her passage as a maiden fair

She who steps through the shadows of my mind

Every movement graceful

Every moment divine.

I know her as a woman true

the lady whose smile fills me topful

the knowing in her eyes would drown any sorrow.

She knows not your prideful ramblings

the words of jealousy are not found in her

She knows no equal

for she treats all as better

And none as below.

You tell me, "Love Is A Passing Thing"

It will not withstand the gap of ages

Yet the eternities I have spent with her

Have not aged me

though those eons you call moments

I called all my future.

through cloud and brush I chase her

Through tree and fel I search

Never in haste

but for in only a moment

I will turn

and she will be there

Standing beside me.

You ask, "Does Your Lady Have A Name?"

And I smile

For in your simplicity you suggest

That one names a waterfall

or star shine

or the colors of rain and sky.

I will tell you what her name is: Her name is fire and wind and rock and water.

She is composed of the elements

Though the quick temper of fire is found not in her

The fickleness of wind does not call her home

The inability of rock cannot lay claim

And the chaos of water is still in her.

She is light and she is sunshine

yet she is enclosed in darkened spaces

weaving through the dreary places

The empty spaces of my mind.

And I know that I shall find her

in the apple garden, by thr raging river

By the gentle stream, the quiet rock

which waters break on over

be it mountainside or country-bound

It matters not

for I shall claim her again

and she me

though I have not seen her in great spans of time

She will claim me from her place in History.

For she would tear apart the earth for me

A fire within that quells not at temptation

It fails not at futility

Nor the impossibility of the search.

And though we be struck to two differing sides of the universe

we stall stride through bounds of time

And wander the starry host itself

If only to grasp each other again


And in her Embrace is the birth of a billion suns

and endless lay of light plays upon her face

She who can stand through day and nightfall

Who caresses me through the infinite spaces

Who teaches me the knowledge of the unseen

And who whispers to me of the Unknowing

A secret too lovely to share with another

will become the tie that clasps us together.

And I shall Search and pray the day

which hastens forth through bands of time

Till the secret is revaled

Till the spirit is confounded

by rhasphodies to brilliant for the heart to handle

Till Rapture rains from heaven like the star of Day itself!

Till walls are defeated and foundations broken

till rock is beaten and defense is routed

till all that dwells is the conjoined flesh

And the Spirit Of Love that dwells within

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Interesting.

Although I'd tag it as prose, rather than poetry. That's just me, I think.

I like the imagery, although it does go on a bit...

[Sirios Skywolf]

prose? Hmm, I wouldn't know.


It does go on awhile, I'll admit, but I do consider it my best poem to date.


I've been contemplating if I should post one of my "christian" (meaning, a poem related to my life in Christ) poems, then decided, what the hell, I'll throw something up here and see if it sticks.


I now introduce...


"The Burnt Up Man"



The dust co-mingled with the ashes

And to that dust

Came glory and deliverence

For the burnt-up man



How glorious was that humble fire

which with agony and lust consumed

the fragile flesh, he who re-cruxified

Christ Again


Shameful was that spent up man

He who spent the coins of God

On Vanity, Fallacy

And the life of the Prodigal


So Came then that Holy Fire(!)

Which cleansing set that beast aflame

Delivering the Spent Up Man

by Agony Set the path aright


now stepping forth goes that sooty child

Borne from the blood of the burnt-up man

The gift of life from

Christ In Fire

who burnt away

The greed-filled Flesh

And through burning saved(!)

That Spent Up Man.


now Walk aright, Saved-Soul Man!

Speak of Light

You Loved Of God-Man!

LIFE!
DELIVERENCE!

AND THE ETERNITY TO COME!

[Cogidubnus]

If it's dancing you would be, their's brisker pipes than poetry...oh, many a peer of england brews a livelier liquor than the muse! And malt does more than Milton can, to justify God's ways to man!

Any man who's a fan of both C.S. Lewis and Keats is alright in my book. Your poetry, as llearch said, is perhaps prosaic in it's scope, although I could see it as spoken verse.

[Sirios Skywolf]

More...poems.



Let me slip easily into the velvet throat of darkness;

Struggle me not against the enveloping shadow

I'll sleep peaceful in the deepening belly of the night

Dissolving my waking fear, releasing my unconscious mind

Stir me not awake from my swallowed state


Make me not lay, straight up, freed of these satin bonds

I shall rest in the arms of the small death

Kiss me, freeing doom, my lich-yard bride!

Let your sweet breath fall upon my shoulders and hands

Envelop me, O Lady Night!


De Luit, "The Romance Of Lady Sleep, Part One."




"Lord, these heavy hands

Cannot be borne by these fragile arms.

Burdened down with so much iniquity

My limp shoulders do but struggle with its weight

But my iron fingers still refuse my command.

Can I flick my broken wrists

To summon the power to move this mountain?

Can these steel-stained hands, wrought of shame

Move the heaviness of the earth?

Let us discover, my Lord, what you would have these hands to do!"
De Luit, "My Hands"



Poisons strike forth into my veins

My rotting frame is lit by light

Every dying cell of me set aflame.

The fire burns away the black crevice

The furrows of black, dug into my skin

For this moment, I live! Show me my foe!


Then the toxins fade like shadows

My vain-glory vaporized by the radiant Sol

And, rotted to the core, I fall asleep again.

De Luit, "In The Wake Of Anger: The Hollow Afterglow

[Sienna Maiu - M T]

I've never really been one to understand poems in all their undertones and well... poetic meanings.

But... these were beautiful. I especially liked the first and loved the third.