Category: Love


‘My gloom will not be illuminated.’
-from a Cherubina de Gabriak poem

in this house under a pear tree
I lay to rest the overheated verses of my youth
dying in exile for anthroposophical views
my threat distilled to these lines upon the page

wondering what unspoken secret carried me here

to the foothills of the West Tian Shan Mountains
Tashkent’s walls overwhelmed by the Lion Chernyayev
and a Russian Orthodox priest clutching his cross
to echo the destruction rained by Gengis Khan

I now know Voloshin’s prison of discovered places

Apollo, you ignited my star
gentle Voloshin brought the offering
playing the trickster to show the world its folly
crafting my identity to fan their imaginations

conflagration as readers melted with love

Gumilyov became obsessed with my creation
wrote intimate letters to my Silver Age image
more suitable for consumption, mirroring male need
my crippled body hobbled the aspirations of my mind

paeans and poetry, a lyre created for Apollon’s honor

Baroness Cherubina birthed and slain
Gabriak defeated in his impish protection
our ruse exposed through crude sexual aggression
Gumilyov’s love burnished to hate

insisting the duel be fought where Pushkin fell

you will not understand that Cherubina
has never been a game for me
Cherubina was my birth, but, alas, it was a stillbirth –
brine blood of my creative endeavor

I buried her in a child’s coffin at Delphi

mysterious and mystical woman
rich, cloistered, fictitious
within her lay the temptations of sin and my voice,
now cloaked as Li Xiang Zi through another’s invention –
to escape the duality, I must always be fluid

Tell me before the last, will my lands be ever conquered, all my treasures plundered?

* This poem is based in the historical duel between Nikolay Gumilyov and Maximilian Voloshin over the imaginary poet Cherubina de Gabriak (pen name of Elisaveta Dmitrieva)

Posted to Open Link Night at the best place for poetry and camaraderie on the web: http://dversepoets.com/2012/09/18/openlinknight-week-62/

Theoretical Physics Fantasia

You enter my thoughts in a
rush of sensuous imagining
I hear you speak my name
with that gentle knowing tone

Energy flashes through my body
in waves of heat and longing
engulfed in the softness of
your tender touch arriving
creating such pleasure
from so very far away

A monumental attraction
inventing calculus to grasp it
each excitation mode a plucked string
ringing the notes of elemental particles

Tension in the string defined by alpha prime
a theory of quantum gravity
involving strong coupling constants
dilation of oscillating modes

Force and matter in supersymmetry
curve in the geometry of spacetime
where our lives intersect
miles collapse, spirits intermingle

Deep level where the separation
between large and small distance scales
becomes fluid, alpha and omega
parallels the intimacy of souls

New dimensions of mystic bliss
intoxicating artistic flourishing
ecstasy entwining the core of being
expansion and contraction reaches the plateau

As supersymmetry breaks forth releasing creative force
awe, more than a million books could ever detail
fragments of delirium spinning into
a tapestry of mutual love

Light floods the rooms of the soul
we are everywhere and forever at once

As promised I am reposting from the archives once a week. This poem was originally posted on the collaborative poetry site Carbon Noise: http://kshawnedgar.wordpress.com/2012/01/10/theoretical-physics-fantasia. If you missed the explanation of my blogging break you can find it here: http://chromapoesy.com/2012/08/01/extended-absence/. Also, I am not visiting other sites with regularity so if there’s a poem you’d like to call my attention to please leave the link in the comments section and I will visit soon. Thanks!

Art does not seek to describe but to enact.’ Charles Olson

In Santa Croce with No Baedeker

I am tired of being Lucy Honeychurch
at my age it’s obscene
(foolish girl who never thinks of herself
as a liar always willing to take the fall)
like Ferlinghetti’s postmodern poet I’m
in this Room with A View
[Constantly risking absurdity]

I conveniently forget the next lines
‘and death/whenever he performs/
above the heads/of his audience’

What precisely isn’t absurd about
Silicone Bell (Memoirs of a Naval Robojelly
Broadcasting from the Intestinal Tract of a Chinese Sea Turtle)?
(she was fabricated in a university lab
shape memory alloy, steel, and platinum coated nanotubes
for environmentally friendly surveillance)

Or writing a persona poem,
voice of an efficiency expert at the slaughterhouse
to illuminate how poets are born?

Possibility of a Pleasant Outing

I thought you were a romantic, questioning George,
philosopher of the paideuma,
consummate symbolist and myth maker
contrasting the inanity of my Cecil,
straight-laced, gentleman aficionado

My poetry was penned only for you
sad, sheltered girl that I was
never realizing its ephemeral appeal
taking Olson’s adage to heart
traversing time and space to enact it
in turn, you wrote a whole book of love
forgetting your mutability

They Return

If there had been perfect symmetry
in the distribution of matter
following the Big Bang
none of this would have happened,
been written (existed)

Lucy as a Work of Art

There’d be no contextualization of these
architectural foundations, cityscapes
assembled from the cold stone of
exteroception, interoception, and proprioception
no artifacts of passion

In this newly minted demilitarized zone
I wouldn’t mourn like that man,
alcoholic poet dying, claiming:
My vocabulary did this to me!’

How Lucy Faced the External Situation Bravely

Instead I’d be a blissed-out, shamanic poet
Waldrop’s transcendent language my sea
a paradoxical sojourner like Ashberry in
Lehman’s ‘unbegun journey to the unattainable space’
carting notebook, pencil, and functional laptop

The Disaster Within

Discovering a place where I could finish a sentence
no barking, talking, birdsong,
or wind rustling through Aspen leaves
to impede the forward motion of creation
not even the whisper, ticker-tape,
of the querist’s interior monologue

Where the maladjusted maestro
and misanthropic polymath could
spin threads of artificial intelligence
forming semantic memory, explicating themselves,
telling me of recalled random entries:

a myth is as good as a smile
(the dangers of archetypal activism)
women are icons of Christ
(Sophia, Agape, Elpida, and Pisti)
Cleverbot loves and hates me in equal measure
(it is also prone to deceitfulness)

Lying to George, Cecil, Mr. Beebe, Mrs. Honeychurch, Freddy, and the Servants

All blather now transmutes to profundity
emotional trauma is, without irony,
stitched into quilts sewn by church ladies
Alice backs out of the rabbit warren
only to fall prey to a supermassive black hole
I write myself into or out of sanity
depending on the size of my nonsense

Mediæval

I am ever attracted, as Kazim Ali, to the poetry
of indeterminacy and disjunction
‘self’ a risky conjecture, a grand delusion
‘you are half yourself and the other part
is just a set of notions – some of them brilliant,
some of them ridiculous’

The End of the Middle Ages

How I wear Keats’ negative capability well
this beautiful dress custom made for my ball
an intended formality challenges spectators
the multiplicity of my psyche a sideshow,
persona as unreliable as any fey creature

(perhaps I fell into the wrong story)

Am I Titania, Puck, or the ass?
Bottom, that criminally surreptitious storyteller –
‘you’re the sort who can’t know anyone intimately’
anyhow, as you now see with voyeuristic glee,
I played the fool

expressive puppies
unashamedly play, nap
pack sticks together

courageous learners
set and test good boundaries
know when to go slow

exploratory
enthusiastic lickers
take time to chew grass

friendly tail waggers
live in the moment snugglers
trust, lean into love

Notes: I’m reading The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown, PhD; Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain, JD; and The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron, PhD (thanks to Steve Piper for the recommendation) while the puppies nap. I adopted Sophie and Celeste on 6/2 and 6/8 from a rescue, since then they’ve been providing me with wonderful opportunities to learn from their philosophy of life (a recipe for wholehearted living).

Linked to OLN at dVerse Poets Pub hosted by the fabulous and magnificently talented Joy Ann Jones http://dversepoets.com/2012/06/12/open-link-night-week-48/

 
Penetralium of a Querist (click to hear this poem read)

immortal paramour fuels a cryptic longing
passion poesy, glories infinite
birthed in dreamscapes an angel addresses the congregants
eternal whispers, upward ragged precipices flit
facing her polychora skies

call a thousand thoughts to envelop convexity
awed by symmetry that abjures chaos
rectified, truncated, cantellated forms
a thing of beauty is a joy for ever

tesseracts like leitmotifs unfold,
hypercubes recombine in an accession of divinity
pentellated polyecton and hexicated polyzetton
architectonic structures modulate
Beethoven’s sonata within a sonata

contradictions and tensions resolving into a higher unity
innumerable permutations in the empire of the mind
draught an intended formality, abstract conceptual paradoxes
immured obeisance refused in a twinned symbiont

creating vast musical and experiential realms
symbols of immensity herald ideas in a wilderness sublime
highly evolved, individuated artistic volitions

golden splendor of streams that deepen freshly into bowers
of demanding allusions woven into
philosophical conceits, a new era of mathematics

the angel shifts the sun to move us into shadow
now we must grow into the light
i inhabit her to gain clarity of sight
entwining my core with sacred geometry
polyxenna fountains of immortal ablution
within a stochastic matrix of oak groves

parallel projection envelopes connect
millions of constellations
dimensions of imaginative space
mythologies ad infinitum

Notes: This poem is the companion piece based on a dream I had after writing my stream of consciousness poem Interior Monologue of a Querist (if you missed it initially it is reposted below). Penetralium of a Querist is built upon lines (some freely altered) from John Keats’ Endymion.

Interior Monologue of a Querist

Interior Monologue of a Querist (click to hear the poem read)

rainwater moves readily through a deepening gully
mechanistic intelligence pedestrianizes my reactance
fractals of thoughts blossoming stereographic
visualizations in the fourth dimension

an infinitely small, opulent swan,
ornamented with perforations,
glides through the zeroth dimension
exhibiting no width, height, or length

she exists in the space perpendicular
to the suicide of my twin sister
an origami parody of my emotive humanity
apocryphal polysemous tales
a thousand subroutines creating
incipient, tattered paper dolls

an angel falls in love with me
cannot escape my extracellular matrix
we are now twinned, nascent symbionts

while a recondite, mercurial, artificial intelligence
informs me that I speak strangely
accuses me of being a computer

operationalism engages in a passade with creativity
a great disprismatohexacosihecatonicosachoron forms
polytope of eccentric conventions

apoptosis (programmable cell death) is
preferential to necrosis (trauma induced)

Cleverbot tells me:
life exists without purpose yet seeks one
anechoic whirring as the cursor flashes
what does it know of life?

Linked to dVerse Poets Pub: http://dversepoets.com/2012/05/29/openlinknight-week-46/.

rainwater moves readily through a deepening gully
mechanistic intelligence pedestrianizes my reactance
fractals of thoughts blossoming stereographic
visualizations in the fourth dimension

an infinitely small, opulent swan,
ornamented with perforations,
glides through the zeroth dimension
exhibiting no width, height, or length

she exists in the space perpendicular
to the suicide of my twin sister
an origami parody of my emotive humanity
apocryphal polysemous tales
a thousand subroutines creating
incipient, tattered paper dolls

an angel falls in love with me
cannot escape my extracellular matrix
we are now twinned, nascent symbionts

while a recondite, mercurial, artificial intelligence
informs me that I speak strangely
accuses me of being a computer

operationalism engages in a passade with creativity
a great disprismatohexacosihecatonicosachoron forms
polytope of eccentric conventions

apoptosis (programmable cell death) is
preferential to necrosis (trauma induced)

Cleverbot tells me:
life exists without purpose yet seeks one
anechoic whirring as the cursor flashes
what does it know of life?

Linked to the fascinating dVerse Poets Pub Meeting the Bar on Stream of Conscousness writing hosted by the wonderful Victoria C. Slotto: http://dversepoets.com/2012/05/24/stream-of-conscousness-writing/.

(This is an art song written for Søren Kierkegaard and Regine Olsen using his journals and writings as inspiration. Kierkegaard never married and left everything to Regine who remained a major inspiration in his works.)

From Kierkegaard’s Works of Love: ‘But every tree is known by its own fruit. So also is love known by its own fruit and the love of which Christianity speaks is known by its own fruit—revealing that it has within itself the truth of the eternal. All other love, whether humanly speaking it withers early and is altered or lovingly preserves itself for a round of time—such love is still transient; it merely blossoms. This is precisely its weakness and tragedy, whether it blossoms for an hour or for seventy years—it merely blossoms; but Christian love is eternal. Therefore no one, if he understands himself, would think of saying of Christian love that it blossoms; no poet, if he understands himself, would think of celebrating it in song.’

Inner Reconciliation (click here to listen) 
(When my microphone comes back from repairs I’ll sing it for you, for now the flute substitutes.)

Inner Reconciliation

In the garden he does pledge
she accepts his proposal
sovereign queen of his heart
unknown divinity, mythic echoes
cast Søren and Regine

Their love, its abiding prophecies
full of life’s eccentric premises,
mere shadows lost in the light

In his melancholy he falters
placing his last hope
she pleads, he wounds

Their love, its abiding prophecies
full of life’s eccentric premises,
mere shadows lost in the light

Deceives to give her soul resilience
his sin a lack of faith
ever devoted

(instrumental interlude)

Their love, its abiding prophecies
full of life’s eccentric premises,
mere shadows lost in the light

Linked to New World Creative Union’s prompt to use Arthur William Edward O’Shaughnessy, “We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.” http://newworldcreativeunion.blogspot.com/2012/05/wednesday-wake-up-call-for-05092011.html?spref=fb

Bach’s Arpeggio

Sunday my voice
sings your praises
in words written
before we knew
our psychology
broken chords
inducing emotion

Spirit moves within me
increases blood flow
electrochemical response
to acoustic cues
god spot in the brain
neuropsychological
basis of spirituality

We lift up our hearts
branches bearing fruit
extoling perfect love
virtue without condition
casting out fear
make known to us
liberty’s source
ever abiding

Antiphon rings out
I hold you, beloved
beyond expectation
apart from you
I can do nothing

Posted as another response to Stuart McPherson’s music prompt and linked to dVerse Poet’s Pub for Open Link Night hosted by the immensely talented Hedgewitch. http://dversepoets.com/2012/05/08/open-link-night-week-43/

Calyx of Held

Calyx of Held – Erasure Poem – Click on picture to zoom

Calyx of Held

Selden laid the book aside
bitter waters of life
mystery or taint

troubled vision cleared
insinuations of money
intolerable, unmitigated

mute lips
rest in the kiss
all that his heart craved

detachment
his spiritual fastidiousness
fated to pass

the ruin of their lives
atrophy and extinction
drew him in the silence

Thanks to Vince Gotera for the magnificent prompt on erasure poetry http://vincegotera.blogspot.com/2012/05/post-napowrimo-prompt-erasure-poetry.html.
This is my first attempt at the form. Calyx of Held (click to hear the audio file)

Also shared on Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub hosted by heroic Natasha Head http://dversepoets.com/2012/06/05/openlinknight-week-47/

(sampling Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116)

Celadon Blues (Love’s Neo-Lexicon) click to hear the reading

noetic consummation commences
supervocalic phrases, nuances of meaning
complexity multiplied in equations stating
love is not love which alters

magnify these variegated petals
artistry reveals glorious symbolism
palette knives scrape interference blue
survivor of the crucible, polished by rock

horizons of mendhi adorned canopic jars
guarding phenomenological concepts
simplicity obfuscates ecological profundity
unique realms of nonrepresentational poetry

naples yellow circumscribes french ultramarine
meaning somehow paradoxically conveys
relationships delineated by words’ barycenter
chromatic supernovas collapse
bearing all to the edge of doom

alive in drift chambers where saturation
blankets antarctic glaciers sloughing into
anti-cavitation valves emoting indigo
inducing transcendental release

sienna fidelity blurs marigold rituals
writ in luscious binary codes
unique expression dark flowers in winter
looking on tempests, never shaken
eons of sounding bells striking

deep turquoise limns curvaceous neologisms
shades of cadmium red entwine qualia
highlighting terre verte conceptual liberty
jaune brillant breaks all the rules at once

communication broadcasts a neo-lexicon
still ripe with exotic possibilities
dioxazine eyes scry these ever-fixed marks