Phantasy of E.

For: Emma Watson

A confession during this celebratory holiday season:
There have been many joyful causes,
But joy, for this heart stems from only one reason...
..My Goddess seen in snapshot pauses.

Every womanly feature flashes;
Blinking shutters, my heart and each eye shudders.
Methodical thoughts from poetic cache
At your image, alone, are jumbled; my ink stutttersss.

There is something inside which I cannot explain;
A feeling which courses, I cannot contain.
Electrified just seeing you, my emotions explode.
So far a uni-direction connection, you the cathode, I the diode.

There is no one who can compare with such a glamorous sight;
Every inch of you is flawless, radiating with a celestial light.
You are an angel, beyond impeccable, confined in human form.
In the cold and dark, your image keeps the heart bright and warm.

The stars littering the universe are dull when I compare:
The strings in string theory, to one strand of your shining hair.
Your face is gorgeous, each freckle is enchanting.
My eyes trace the frame, your countenance is entrancing.    

Both of your hazel eyes are guides to my soul
When I`m fractured and lost in an Inferno.
Plus each irresistible lip, the sum of the whole,
Your smile is Beatrice - my Paradiso.
The arch of each eyebrow, from base to keystone,
Outline the gates which lead to heavens throne.

I search for words which could possible describe...
These thoughts of you intoxicate, such grace to imbibe.
I try to describe the ambrosia I`ve never been tasted...
On your looks and voice, nature saw that nothing was wasted.

No measure, to all I would sacrifice to know "you";
Not only the exterior, but the interior aspects too.
The fortunes of Atlantis, buried in the briny deep -
Rubbish compared to treasure held in your hearts keep.

Not just the accessories, the accouterments, but also the seams;
Each stitch, doubt, and fear - material of your fantasies and dreams.
Suspended in imagination... the combination of delicate legs, arms,
And personality... Running towards your spell, reaching for your charms.

The absolute perfection of your womanly geometry
Fills each neural fiber with the utmost ecstasy.
Every Point, Line, Segment, and symmetric contour;
And it`s Plane to my heart every Angle I adore.

To Morpheus I pray: take all I am, but take not her smile away.
You are my Elysium; in fields of dreams, with you, I lay.
To you Emma, one more thing I would say:
I wish you the best and Merry Christmas on this day.

Composed By: A.D.

A Deified Image

The winds exhale, and blow,

On a flame; causing a momentary flicker,

But the fire continues to grow.

Breath within a casing made of wicker,

Congregation awaits the show.

Silently the effigy is set ablaze.

An aura, a circle is now clear,

Surrounded by degrees of rays.

Each new cycle, each sphere,

Represents a new level or phase.

Unseen is seen,

Despite smoke and shades of gray.

Invictus Selene,

Rearranging the moon and Sun day -

Clay is a dream.

Above, the moon and stars burn without tire;

Below, cyclic hands revolve.

Terrestrial consumed in flames, celestial rises higher.  

Watching the images dissolve;

Only one sacrifice can bring you what you truly desire.

Composed By: A.D.

The Apple (II)

Winter impending, surrounds the empty branches.

The mind leaves, thoughts like leaves in gusting breath.

Emotion is exposed, as each structure advances;

Barren trunk, as a solitary petal tumbles toward death.

The only firm ground found, for relief,

Is: the failing foundation – of belief.

With fading sight, the jet overtakes all;

Dreaming, for her light – the eyes blindly call.

In that impenetrable darkness, I am taken by the hand,

And am effortlessly led by each loving command.

Her shine is resplendent, an ever-illuminating guide;

On the temporary, temporal, journey through the divide.

Next to her, I am left to wonder if: I am still alive?

When back in the wood where we first met, we arrive.

Under Oak and Mistletoe, near the sparkling stream, we recline;

Poetic infertility and poesy`s poisons are cured in her shrine.

On my chest, she is secure in my bold grasp;

Our hands interlocked, our fingers – the clasp.

The last time we were together, rash youth filled our faces;

The past however, for now, maturity and wisdom replaces.

Watching the moon slowly rise, all is suspended and taciturn.

I observe how she has changed. The physical differences I attempt to define;

As we lay captivated by each other, locked in our embrace and affection.

Her hair and eyes are, now, many hues of brunette and auburn.

“But, to describe such beauty is beyond my ability…” my thoughts opine;

“…What time believes it changes, has only added to her flawless perfection”.

She places her hand upon my cheek,

Softly caresses, and begins to speak:

“Time – it is the brook, in the background.

Listen to the earthen bed below, as it tickles

The stream; and the joyful water, as it trickles.

Focus on the music, the liquid bubbling, the instruments and laughter.

Ever-flowing joyous tones – hear? They`re here! Ever-going – gone soon after.

Only in memories, do the melodies have sound”.

“Well then, I want you to know, I lov…” I attempt to confess;

She stops me short, with lips of unimaginable sweetness.

I stare at her ensnared, utterly, and hopelessly lost in the radiance of her glow.

Realizing, it is true that: the depths of her mind and soul, I may never know;

But for now, no more is needed than growth, love, nature, and time`s fatal flow.

Deeper I`ll dive, delve further into her sea, wishing and hoping she`ll reward me

With the incalculable treasure, the love of her heart – this gift, represents eternity

(Besides, I would rather suffocate with her, than live without her personality).

Sitting there, our contemplations are pleasant, our countenances are silent.

Each second our intense ardor grows; investments are doubled by words not spent.

This connection is amplified like the waves from an echoing lyre;

The bond elevates beyond space and time, towards eternity and higher.

The fancy and folly, for which these mortal desires used to have such longing

Are all futile; here with her all hopes and dreams have a sense of belonging.  

I know, I know, I am no more than a star in the universe`s infinite skies –

Gravitating and revolving around her – my soul is consumed by her eyes.

Her gentle glance is the only time which I ever be in (or see) paradise;

A look from her celestial vision, and how can earth ever again suffice?

With no more than her kiss, my every need she will have nourished.

Our lips meet, existence ceases, then they part; and life is replenished.

Eternal love to and from my Goddess, she is my Moirai.

My muse beyond comparison and comprehension; her love it fills my veins.

My eyes open. Briefly, the vision is the color of Phi;

And I notice Sothis sits, her loving flames brightening the once-dim frames.

Composed By: A.D.

Oh, and for those who check out the blog from other countries: Spasiba, Valare upakaaram, Merci beaucoup (I took the top three countries, so if I missed you language I am sorry). I have been studying/working on writing in French, Russian, and Latin. I don`t expect to be able to speak the languages (but hope to try anyway), but hopefully I will be able to produce some poetry in those languages shortly. I`d rather not rush it though, and ensure that I am not being disrespectful by axe-ing someone`s native tongue (there are times when I can barely speak/write in my own though, so don`t judge me too harshly).

I`d just like to say thank you to whoever gave me the +1 on Google! You are awesome and I am glad that you like some of the pieces :). To everyone else thank you for visiting and checking out the blog. I hope everyone has a great day.

Illimitable Spiral

This life - rotates in constantly circular motions, my friend;

Concessions, metronomes continue to vend.

Like the symbols in the strokes of this inky current;

The various invariables, the fundamentals  

Often contradict – divergent, yet are concurrent.

An endless sphere of increases – each is incremental.

Similar emotions, different amounts.

Clocks: the finite tallies – and the infinite counts.

Track along the circle – this spiraling trend…

This course is parallel and inverted,

This course is one that will blend;

This course is never diverted,

The answer must arrive at the end.

Wheels in the mind is spinning - rolling with doubt;

Methodical, cyclic, in a bout about…

…About what exactly? Can anyone tell:

The vices of heaven, the virtues of hell?

Perhaps the two of them – are inverted,

Perhaps the two somehow blend,

Perhaps the two are never diverted,      

Perhaps there`s an answer in the end?  

…Pursue the circle, pursue the spiraling trend.

Neurological – the estimates and counts;

Veridicality arrives in minute amounts.

Each increase in the understanding is Incremental.

Knowledge and ignorance are curiously concurrent.  

While the aspect of life – which is most fundamental,

Is the seconds and hours passing – in the current.

This life - rotates in constantly circular motions, my friend;

Concessions, metronomes continue to vend.

Composed By: A.D.

The Apple

The Apple 

The imagination searched for inspiration, 

Through old leaves without cessation;

When the ears fancied they heard a song 

From a plover (the chirping of my lover),

On a distant birch calling my spirit to her perch.

So, without fear the essence followed along.

The full moon above was cairngorm, 

As I searched for her melodious form.

Led past ash and alder, from my vast stone city. 

Flying counsel multiplies, the journeying  heart complies;

Heeding her advice, which was given once, twice, thrice.

I arrived at a cache, a dale with a pool so pretty.

There, by the motionless stream,

(Clothed in Eden) was a bathing dream.

I grew faint from her perfect feminine allure.

Her silken hair billows, like the branches of willows;

Flowers of whitethorn, her moonlit skin; hair like fresh corn.

Held in restraint, my soul enthralled, body in adoring barm. 

I stood rooted, like an oak, her humming lips were the color of holly.

Then, her eyes shed my thickets cloak; and I swooned, like an archers volley.

When I came to, I was supine; her azure oceans were locked on my hazel brines.

O, to taste her ocular wine - the four intertwined- two pairs of optical vines.

Reality was inverted, her smile like ivy, I completely infected;

And yet, curiously, each moment I felt the grin curatively effected. 

Confusion. No sense of past or present tense.

Illusion? The mind dense, feelings - intense.

Stasis and suspense.

I must know if she is merely a reverie!

Do the eyes truly see - perceive that she is a descendant of Calliope?

Could it possibly be - in chrysolite  grove, a modern Aphrodite?

Still she, with her stare, suspends all foolish enquiry .

Caressingly she feeds me, her labium delicacy;

Moist ambrosia, pomegranate captivating efficacy.

What is time, to our passionate osculation? 

Our intimate copulation defies all calculation.

Her hips like the full moon - rises then dips;

My lips are the horizon and await the celestial trips.

Hands like the branches interlocked and sultry as they sway;

The sound of rustling, and amorous glances, as the leaves play.

Poetic lust and sincere love in juxtaposition,

Fusion occurs, as a dyad morphs into a single position.

Her desire is unyielding, and her body is limber;

I in ardor, am obsequious, but my flesh is timber.

She is the bark which conceals the lumber.

The body and social punctilios - do not encumber.

Hidden within her integument, no longer empty;

Despite quivers and shivers, her legs don't flee.

Pleasure arrives in endless waves - undulating motion;

Simultaneously it came, both our culminations.

She drenches with inspiration, I with supplications;

In one final orgastic crest, we become a tranquil ocean.

We lay without shame, tame, guiltless on the sylvan shore.

Flames still dress each frame, despite bodies covered in the downpour.

Finally the most gently kiss,

I unexpectedly awake from the trance.

But I can still feel the bliss

Of my absolutely angelic nymph, and fee her loving glance. 

Composed by: A.D.

Communication System (Temp Name)

With a signal, the sisters, nine

Sew threads from their divine spindles 

Into synapses along the spine 

As each degree revolves and dwindles

The reaction - initially inconsequential 

But, like the time between light and switch 

The cells fire - initiate action potential 

Their agent mimics their every stitch

Firing

The poet, in this age of technology 

Is divided - inspirational mitosis 

From Muses, nature, and mythology;

But, "forgets-them-not" - myosotis 

Depolarization 

Instead the lines focus on the beauty 

To be found in the progress of humanity  

Like the Planck epoch in primordial space

We began with matter unrefined and base

From ignorance and bellicose obstruction 

Advances were paid by the sweat and blood of the brave

Overcome with intelligence and pacific promotion

This new course the globe continues to pave

From tribal discord and clamor - senseless violence 

The race has grown (like submerged seeds

Into Harmonia, concord and accord -Pan's reeds)

Toward the sky and a universal alliance 

Repolarization

The disconnected campfires provided dim illumination at night

Once the only vision below the celestial sphere.

Now, in stations (above the terrestrial) new sights appear

The planet is a unified dendritic network of electrical light.

Each new wave of scientific understanding crashes 

On the archaic superstitious shore

And the logic of crystalline evidence washes

Away, the suppositions traced before

Hyperpolarization 

Color, sex, sexual preference

Along with nationality - once a source of oppression and animosity 

Now merely a matter of appearance

Minor relevant differences revealed to be no more than G-C, A-T.

Folly - to war over old lines in the sand

When galactic exploration offers new land

Folly - every separate banner that is unfurled 

When everyone's a citizen of this one world 

Folly - doubts we don't all see eye to eye

Tell me what sun and moon fill your sky?

Though negativity may color our airs and the N-E-W-S

With doubtful greys and deterring blues,

Positive and hope, are the Aeolus 

Often subtle, until awoken, then a forceful stimulus 

Resting potential 

With the final cords of their chords sewn

The envoy returns to resting potential 

Earth revolving, once again silent, alone

Clock ticks, can one degree be instrumental?

Comfort - from their information is left on the mind

Electro-chemical signals - evidence 

Of their melody, on the memory, clearly defined 

A loving memento of their presence.

Composed By: A.D.

Antediluvian

Prince Nemo was dry, known to be somewhat phlegmatic.

His disposition was as rigid as his dogma.

One night, however, his arid personality became aquatic;

Due to an internal deluge, caused by Ogma.

The current was flooded with new impressions, 

The waters were convoluted by diurnal digressions.

The ship, the intellect, began sailing through waves of information.

The surges shading - saturation pervading the imagination.

The vessel and the tenets seemed indubitable;

But by observing each crest and trough - the amplitude 

Of every new, lucid, and distinct oscillation

(Solids - liquescent, with each fluctuation)

The container began to sink, the false anima and airs laid nude.

The hull - the sure doctrines - now felt unstable.

His cognizance uncertain, asunder in oceans and perilous mains.

He abandoned ship, perplexed and vexed within (and by) his crown.

He was disconcerted, as the magnitude of the drink continued to rise;

Once shallow, now depthless and level with (also streaming from) his eyes.

Bewildered in the aqueous dark and cold - forsaken - prepared to drown,

But then the craft of Brighid rescued his reins from the rains...

... And from this state of apathetic nonentity -

Her captain provided him a fresh, unique, identity.

Composed By: A.D.

Reflections

Listen – as the cold liquid plays, trickling into the drain;

To the melody in the hypnotic waterfall.

The whirlpool, in its spiraling descent, is growing.

There is a siphonic beckoning, the pipes can`t contain -

A swirling, symphonic, echoing sprawl;

As the recollections swell, like a sapphire wave flowing.

Caught in time`s flux (its emotionless motions),

Ticks and tocks, are the drips and drops.

A half-hung head spins, clogged with notions,

Splashes ring as the faulty faucet – never stops.

The mind is flooded, and it can hardly apprehend

The cyclonic thoughts, which stream and twist.

Once dissipated memories, now gather and accumulate;

Solitarily they are transparent, but opaque in aggregate.

On arrival, they cloud; like fresh steam and mist…

A haze of errors – foggy mistakes, time cannot mend.

The condensation – pooled upon the mirrored glass

Now, recedes and slowly fades; like the mystical morning dew

Kissing the wilting emerald blades, on a torrid dawning day.

The water ceases to accrue; but, as the minutes pass,

A stranger`s stare – the fallen optics notice – is precipitating into view.

Two empty eyes, barren silence – as all else drains away.

Composed By: A. D. 

Captivity

I sought to please God

And it felt rather odd;

I sought to please the Devil

And felt a tormenting spell;

I sought to please You

And felt nothing “true”;

So, I sought to please me

And felt completely free.

Composed By: A. D.

Dust

Let us spend a temporary

Period, lost in life

With simple joys like friendship

Our companions on this mortal trip

Sorrow is a rubber knife

Loneliness is a weak adversary

For in this stasis

We can spend forever

An accessible hiatus

Where we can be together

Taking pleasure in nature

United in perfect unity

To negativity and all un-pure

Our hearts develop immunity

Forget the wind upon our face

Forget to question, let feeling replace

Forget the why, and seek no trace

Forget the wind – our destination, the same place.

Composed By: A.D.

Lucid`s Dreams

http://mementoverba.blogspot.com/p/i-past-in-lucids-first-dream-he-felt.html

The Coloring Book

A child plays with a crayon,

Coloring inside (and outside) the lines;

Drawing his own canon,

His imagination constructs his guidelines.

Sketching specifications,

No concerns for outline – black and white.

No dogmatic limitations,

Scribbling in tones that are: dark and bright.

His wax intones,

The page fills with his charms.

Shapes – he clones,

New generations of crops on farms.

Colorful seeds re-sown.

The plants his hands harvest and reap,

When he has grown,

Will be the hues which – make him unique.

Daily, through trial

And error, he develops his ability.

He sharpens, and files

His style, and soon controls his artistry.

Knowledge he vehemently seeks,

As he learns to stay in the prescribed boundary.

Through a variety of techniques,

He adds depth to his personal kit, and quarry.

He feels a fresh creative rush,

As (now a grown man) he gladly exchanges

His old crayons for a brush.

Recycled paper to canvas – the medium changes.

He creates beauty;

By recreating his picturesque perception

(His sense of reality),

And with his work is met with mixed reception.

Still, free from the color book,

No longer held back by a predetermined standard;

Forward – never back – he will look,

And others promote him to a creative commander.

“Free at last,

Free at last” once (unwittingly) a slave,

In the past.

“In the past...” those regrets, no longer engrave.

However, after “forever”…

The adult illusion

Begins to lift – and “freedom” degrades.

He`s left in confusion,

And into ancient innocent memories he fades…

…He stands staring, at a figure, across an impassable temporal canyon.

From his present longitude and latitude,

There is a sense of rectitude and servitude;

And his soul longs, to travel to the other side – to the child with his crayon.

Composed By: A.D.

In the Net

Amidst the tree branches; the sage explosions – fragmented –

Suspended in their frozen galaxy, is the universe is represented.

Higgs-boson particles, adrift in every crevice.

The ever-growing photosynthetic nebulae

Are connected – knees, and ankles – fibulae.

Two telescopes merely penetrate the surface

But, with microscopes (and electron radiation),

The lens can achieve greater magnification.

Scope is analyzing atomic level diameters,

And is grasping the complexity of the system;

“Invisible” interactions in the root and stem,

And deducing the slowly shifting parameters.

How the nature’s laws interplay and weave; like our moods,

Full of subtle relations – the thoughts affecting the attitudes.

Those celestial objects circulating in the galactic brine

Mimic, the psychology of the homo-homo-sapiens species;

Our genetic materials and motivations holds equal mysteries,

And soon all things equally troublesome to term or define.

Still, the most curious aspect (often found)

Is: What is layered in perplexing complexity,

Somehow, pales to effects of sacred simplicity.

The seemingly plain – can be plain, astound.

The ambient associations between the fabrics all around

Has a way, when information is re-viewed, to be simply profound.

Composed By: A.D.