>From dim time passed, from breath to breath
She traveled through the ages
and came to me a sweet, sweet kiss
My Deirdre of the sorrows
>From cross the Sidh on Samain Eve
She touched my hand and heart
and soothed my brow with her sweet stroke
My Deirdre of the sorrows
She pressed away the pain and doubt
of life’s mundane travail.
And reminded me, in glory born
Was Deirdre of the sorrows.
But soon I know, she will return
To the Sidh from which she came
Taking all but memory
Of Deirdre of the sorrows
Like Oisin who followed the bright Niamh
To the land of Tir na n’Og
I’ll treasure these few precious hours
With my Deirdre of the sorrows.
And when it’s done and I’m returned
To the baleful trail of tears
I will forever be sustained
By thoughts
Of Deirdre of the sorrows.
Sunset Doubt
The red sun sets, the night comes on.
Blackness like my darling’s hair.
Is she with me? Is she not?
I cannot tell; it seems unfair.
The sun is setting and I feel not well.
When I’m with her the world seems blessed
When I’m not, I cannot rest.
Her breath, her smile, her sweet caress.
A toast to quell my hungry rage
And sleep ‘till more kindly stars have raised.
Shakespeare’d his Dark Lady; Swift his sweet Stella
And Poe had Annabelle Lee.
To Belinda Pope has weaved his song
And gave her immortality.
Yet though just words, their names are known,
Their hearts are seen and felt.
They weave my dreams in colored schemes
Before them, in honor, I’ve knelt.
But my poor tongue cannot now form
The words of glory tinged.
That would transport my darling girl
To that land of paper fringe.
Instead I hope a more humble goal
With these unmetered rhymes.
To warm that sweet and noble heart
>From the chill of midnight chimes.
While She Sleeps
The words drifted out like early season snow.
Floating upon the breeze in crystal lines.
Surprised, I looked. I hadn’t known it was that late.
I tried to catch them, to feel, to loll on the tongue.
But away they flew from my outstretched hand. Once gone
they would not be called back. No longer mine.
I watched in awe – as, sweet as heaven sent,
they fell and touched her sleeping unturned face
and lay in state on that glorious, unblemished brow.
For a moment they glowed, and then like snow on pavement
they melted and were gone – I love you.
The Touch
She came like the night
Airy, insubstantial
Unexpected, she filled my dreams
And became to me – everything
I reached out to touch her
Small gifts
Elephants and penguins and things
And words of crafted – harmony
This was my dream
Metered rhymes
With a woman to fill their center
Who returned my awefilled – gaze
But as my hand began to stretch
Desired filled
She became a mist
And left me holding only – the night
She Crashed around me like a wave
As I walked along an empty stretch of beach.
Feet in foam, hair framed in stars
Darkly dressed by the Northeast wind.
Awash, released, consoled, and buoyed
I gloried in her white flaked touch
As though cradled in a mother’s arms or womb.
Sudden, as with the tide, she was gone.
Untimely birth: cold, shivered, grasping
Shifting sand in tight clenched fist.
Reach into the darkness – only void.
Listen for her voice or step – no echo.
Alone, bewailing, and then, accepting
to trudge again alone on empty wastes.
Then – She crashed once more about me like a wave.
Feet in foam, hair framed by stars
Darkly dressed by the Northeast wind.
Again released, I gloried in her ambrosial breath
And tried to hold her; Aphroditic curse.
Tide ripped – liquid from my grasp.
Backward I fell into the running sands
Alone, bewailing, unable now to accept
But arms out await her torrential force
Or dissolve into chaotic grains.
Oh! Fickle tide – return my nightborn love!
Feet in foam, hair framed by stars
And delay the coming of the rising sun
Who though warming bright, will slay
This angel of the night – and leave me
once more, and forever, alone.
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