Mark - Hello Poetry

Mark Dec 2018

The turn of Spring aligns this love of mine
a winter glaze of lonely sleet dissolves
and splay the buds towards the golden shine
as snowy drops, her namesake fair evolves.

Each rose with mirrored red have toned her blush
that greeted from the whispered words of love
on petals kiss and hue then spread this crush
rebirthing eyes from out the cold above.

The Tulips worship skies with loving glow
as tho' in stem and reach implants my heart
and rainbow gloss as such that they do know
with all the hope and promised Summer start.

So call love Spring as I have cause to gleam
restoring life that once had none beseem.

Mark Dec 2018

Stillborns Wait In Heaven (Sonnet)

I wonder where the stillborn souls reside
from breathless births, the cherub orphan parts
to migrate; as the promised womb had lied
so close to air and lands with beating hearts.

The love is strong despite the eyes unseen
and rattles snatched in for a gilded wand,
no carat haze could meet what love had been
if cries were nurtured by a mothers bond.

If rearing love outweighs a seraph's love
no golden mother measure to replace
then is to reason; infants wait above;
until the babes and kin unite in space.

A haven till the babies lost reclaim!
O' stillborn wait for love as tho' became.

Mark Dec 2018

Like A Summer Storm (Sonnet)

Bereft like groaning, are the summer storms;
unhappy growls despite the humid joys
and why I join the chorus Zeus performs?
My chest is burnt by Sun rays, love employs.

Then from the heat I curse the skies a-light!
observers witness this; mid-season change
from golden sands to shading grains of spite
and surf dissolve where spume to sight; outrange.

As time to wounds, I rumble, till the gales
Ah! Soothing are the breezes of relief
tho' hurt and whine with rain and whimper wales
a brighter dawn will turn the days of grief.

I lingered in; the summer storms of loss
then drip the rain - until new love can gloss.

Mark Dec 2018

Dearest Mother

Dearest mother
if time entwined and did reverse
I would visit you and no other
for golden landmarks I' traverse
to behold you again with my brother.

Take me in time and stall
to son again in your embrace,
of plumage wings - my Great Wall
and that seraph auroral grace;
a thousand daisies in the fall.

Simper again your lullaby tune
when restless fought a pillow
and silvery specks of moon
caromed each - off a willow
cavorting clefs of boon.

My love is more than the birds
when upward gazing them by
sensing your essence that girds
in each dove whimpered sigh
amorously warbling your words.

In this poem - I write true
the psalms of your inner way;
'as sure that your eyes are blue,
my child reared by the bay,
even in death - I love for you'.

Mark Dec 2018

Song On The Somme

A brisk haze lingers on the Somme before daybreak
silhouettes parade in ritual fashion;
marching spirited fallen soldiers
wistful baritones, tuning from a war long gone
to us.

Hymns are hindered by densely hazed ridden ether
fog and song colliding as death-powder and musk once fused.
Departed still combat; with duty engraved on mounds
Crabgrass; the life adorning the buried ***** remnants
accustomed to solemnly choirs - oscillating with familiarity
as some were there, tasted the ****** fallout of war.

Battle won and the song sweeps over a lush eerie Somme
a hum helpless to the will of turmoil filled winds
collide leaves tunefully - rustling to the beat of soulful outpouring
pulsing, from roots stemming into the maze of entombment
flocks of black sparrows disperse from the mesmerizing murmurs.
Brass choir can now be grasped:

This is where we lie
patriot's graved abroad
for this is where we died
flesh duly thawed.
To the Somme - we tie;
to linger forever flawed
until our home - we fly.

Our homeland! We sigh
for 'tis reason we fought
Splintered and bled dry
that death us wrought.
Let us glide o'er hills high
sever the strings so taut;
that grace then bid us bye.

Mark Dec 2018

Blessed Art Thou Blue Eyes

Worthy art thou of glowing praise - in all the ways
so humbly I ode - an emotive rhymed bode,
of lyrics that flowed - from an ardent felt daze
brighter than the heavens ablaze,
so scribed in phrase - your blessed rays:

Blessed art thou blue eyes - of azure dyes,
once dipped in motion into the oceanic potion,
by seraphs with the notion - that thine eyes match the skies,
oh heavens hath let thee rise,
Aphrodite thy guise - art thou blue eyes.

Blessed art thou with gentle tones - of angelic moans
crafted by the wails that drifted Gaelic sails
flowing in trails - of sea queens and their thrones
a simpering grace thy voice clones,
shattered with groans - my hearted stones.

Blessed art thou of amber hair - radiant fair
woven in piles in rarest of the styles
scented in isles - where live roses flair
of lippy shaped kisses they bear,
from mountains I blare - I adore your hair.

Blessed am I to be - favored by thee
tanning in passion of true valentine fashion
carved in ashen - our love branded tree
oh blessed could I ever be,
so worded in spree - my ink coated glee.

Mark Dec 2018

High Above The Clouds

My spirit fuses with the ether;
subtle life force currents
stilled
amidst an atmosphere
canvassed entirely with azure,
high above the clouds.
Through the years
I dreamt of the angelic path
resisting an early end
I lasted throughout
the fog of anguish,
now remnants of my life
linger within the haze
below.

Levitating in a hovering state
of weightlessness;
no limbs, joints nor blood
or prisoning wraiths,
away from the shame
of the neurotic pain
high above the clouds.
Times of farewell
I whispered
to my love and all
who beseeched me to stay
Goodbye,
now fields of energy
forged in time, remaining
below.

Illuminating golden specks;
rays thrown from a seraph
pierce through me
collecting memories
cleansing doubts
of the life just lived,
exempted from a past
sorrowfully burdened,
now freedom in an abode
high above the clouds.
Those bright spears
carry all ties to past life
back into that earthly maze
of pain and torment
Ever to
remain
Below.