Friday, December 9, 2011

Damien’s Confessions III – A Tragedy

Asleep, in an epileptic dream,
He weeps on a bed called guilt…
Her picture afloat a placid stream,
Her face he kissed with a woven quilt…

The drowning seed sprouts a tree,
A blind man cries to his hymn alone…
Leaves cry as the winter flees,
Her moon sits on a frozen throne…

His tears drown the tulips beside,
A pigeon cries for slaughter…
Her eyes, a woolen coffin to reside,
Her scent like wine and water…

Her hair drowns the tainted blossom,
A butterfly flies with wings on fire…
Roses sped as the tulips rotten,
Her breath is his lonesome desire…

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Damien’s Confessions II - To thyself

She’s a carved souvenir,
An idle breath to adore her scent….
A frigid woolen sheer,
She’s tragedy with no bitter end…

An illustration with no meaning,
A colour without a shade…
Life’s immerged seeding,
She’s a book that wrote a page…

She’s movements in friction,
The vowel in that maze….
She’s a novel with a fiction,
A book without a page…

She’s dictionary in a spelling,
A synonym in an empty page…
What gives this heart a swelling?
Love’s just a pending wage…

Friday, November 18, 2011

Damien’s confessions – A letter to Iris

Why do these eyes sink?
When you sing to the sky…
Why do you yearn for wings?
When I say I cannot fly…

Why does your hair sway?
When the wind sings a rhyme…
Why does this heart pain?
When tulips just don’t cry…

Why does your lip speak riddles?
When I wish to name them mine…
Why does your breath feel brittle?
Have I drenched myself in wine…?

Why do your arms not move?
Are mine too cold to give…
What have I to prove?
You’re all I have to live…

Oh! The queen of my throne!
I’ve roses but you bring me thorns…
Told you tulips don’t groan…
But your garden bloom spawns…

Friday, September 23, 2011

The Awaited Agony: Beauty and the Beast - A Gothic Etymology -Part IV – The Feast for Beauty

A palm bled to an attained calm,
For a nail thus painted blue…
What’s a till in a shivered palm?
His beauty in black perfume…

Beast:
Would thy breath be a demean vigil,
Why could thou not be hysteria in a gown?
Would thy hair sow this heart a till,
I’ve got tulips, but you wear a frown…

Beauty:
What demean vigil could this breath arouse,
I’m the queen to be named a crown…
No hair of mine shall slit your furrows,
No tears of yours would name a swan…!

Monday, July 25, 2011

A Key to "The Awaited Agony: Beauty and the Beast - A Gothic Etymology -Part III – The Feast for Beauty"

* To crush a wine – Inviting a fight

* Valiant - [val-yuh nt] –
a) Boldly courageous; brave; stout-hearted: a valiant soldier.
b) Marked by or showing bravery or valor; heroic: to make a valiant effort.
c) Worthy; excellent.

* Writ – [rit] -
a) Law - a formal order under seal, issued in the name of a sovereign, government, court, or other competent authority, enjoining the officer or other person to whom it is issued or addressed to do or refrain from some specified act.
b) (In early English law) any formal document in letter form, under seal, and in the sovereign's name.
c) Something written; a writing: sacred writ.

* Midget – (Bears no offense to anybody) [mij-it]

a) (Not in technical use) an extremely small person having normal physical proportions.
b) Any animal or thing that is very small for its kind.

* Braise - [breyz] - to cook (meat, fish, or vegetables) by sautéeing in fat and then simmering slowly in very little liquid.

* Bite a thumb – An Insult

* Frayed – {Fray} (v) worn at the edge, show effects of strain (n) A battle or a fight

* Frantic - [fran-tik] –
a) Desperate or wild with excitement, passion, fear, pain, etc.; frenzied.
b) Insane; mad.

* Succumb - [suh-kuhm]
a) To give way to superior force; yield: to succumb to despair.
b) To yield to disease, wounds, old age, etc.; die.

* Swan a Crown – to be loved and to be hated.

* Thither - [thith -er, th ith -] - Towards

* Howl - [houl] - adverb (used without object) to utter a loud, prolonged, mournful cry, as that of a dog or wolf.

* Weeping stouts burnt a whisker’s Carriage – Two fat things burning a cat’s carriage.

* Rapier - [rey-pee-er] -
a) A small sword, especially of the 18th century, having a narrow blade and used for thrusting.
b) A longer, heavier sword, especially of the 16th and 17th centuries, having a double-edged blade and used for slashing and thrusting.

*Amble - [am-buh l]
a) To go at a slow, easy pace; stroll; saunter: He ambled around the town.
b) (Of a horse) to go at a slow pace with the legs moving in lateral pairs and usually having a four-beat rhythm.

The Awaited Agony: Beauty and the Beast - A Gothic Etymology -Part III – The Feast for Beauty

The wax melts to crush a wine*,
His beauty in a valiant* daze…
Her delight writ* a giggle mime,
The midget* unfolds a braise*…

In valiant wits or so her pride,
Beauty frowns to bite a thumb*…
The beast frayed* as her tulips cried,
A cobweb whispered to a frantic* succumb*…

“A recluse is he?” panted Beauty,
“How could him swan a crown*???
Go thither* for his selfless pity,
You’d suffer prey to a woven howl*…”

The Midget anguished beauty’s Disparage,
An ambient liaise mellowed loud…
Weeping stouts burnt a whisker’s carriage*,
Asleep was that farmer’s hound…

The Midget:
“In this Braise blooms his blood,
A rapier* to a woven steed…
Of reckoning, yet a Shrub,
An amble* path of glee…. “

(Ps: This poem was inspired by William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet and a key is also mentioned)

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Part II – The Adoration of the Beast

Her breath’s a lucid shimmer,
Her hair to lain upon my breast?
Her scent screams tragic winters,
She’s tulips to a moonlight caress…

How could be her kiss a revel?
When these lips forswear…!!!
What grotesque in her heart prevails?
When this heart’s a woven frail?

Awaiting a cobweb of hostility,
Beauty wounds an unclaimed usher…
These eyes drool to benighted vanity,
A winter forgives beauty’s closure…

A syllable shuns the verdict’s keep,
Silence summons the vigil grey...
Joyous scent of his beauty reeds,
Her blossom’s a valiant fray…”

Her hair wrote a scripted ballad,
His eyes read in a frantic calm…
A kiss she sewed to a lucid pallet,
Her arms cleansed to lusted charm…

"She’s agony to a sweet embrace,
to her succumb bliss…
She’s rapture in a poisoned daze,
Nicotine in an anguished quilt...!!!"