Secrets of Sand – a poem

***

What god lives to hear these prayers?

I wist for some eyes to down stare,

To witness bear and know the wants

Winding wayward of a people too lost

 For most lands to be occupied by.

*

This lady of ultimate desolation breathes

The words of the deserted waste, dry

Scapes roll undulating in dunes that

Slope gradual and gaudy orange red

Hiding wonders beneath the sand.

Colossus – a poem

***

Brokenly grinning, the old colossi

Lie in their fractured patterns

Of silent watching, torn from

The people that saw them made

In ages past where dwelt hope.

*

The lands around lie thunderstruck

To see this city rise once more,

An epilogue apparently, come again

To make curious the minds of all

Who see, wonder, colossal interest.

*

Gouged and cracked, storm weathered

In the dank forestry, the colossi see

More than we may know, dreamscape reels

To hear the dark call thought of

As a thing of days past, burning out.

*

Peals cry out, far ringing storm

Of sound as the faithful gather

Around this unhallowed place

Deeply attracted by the scents

Of my darkness filling this land.

 

Lithium Direction – a poem

​***

***

The nature of old habits lies drawn

Betwixt imaginings great, too harsh

Beside simple thoughts, become pearls

Of poison kept over aeons within

Rotten sepulchres of the suffering soul

Ensconced.

*

Hardest of all is the beginning amidst

What lies consuming, heavier than air,

Supreme catches snagging, butane danger

Threatening to explosions, forlorn

Wisdom telling us what should be

Torn.

*

Trial and tribulation, try and fail,

Tactical assaults on towers of memory

Have nor will rarely survive first

Contact with enemy forces, lies

The secret language of a lithium

Direction.

*

Driveless Points – a poem

***

***

None believe the truth when

It comes for them, blindly
Stark and bearing down, all
Alight in the mind, huge
Where it is too close, bloomed.
*
Surely something can be done,
They say, well wishes and talk
Of insipid phrases grating dry
On a mind not resigned but true
To itself in trying and more.
*
The calls of enwrapped voices
Scratch sharp grooves in matter
Which have fooled uselessly with
Anodynes and addiction where
Now truth is the only anodyne
True and fair.

Bathsheba – a poetry preview

***

Greetings.

Today I am bringing to you a piece which some of the readers from my previous blog may recall. It is only a little piece of the first part, edited slightly for grammar and presentation. The work is 23 parts long so far, written in August of 2013, telling the story of a lone warrioress in the desert. It is called Bathsheba – Queen of the Desert.

It is a strange style, kind of alternate rhyming couplets, nothing formal, little of my work ever is, but it remains an interesting record of a narrative poem series from myself as a different man to who I am now, who I have become. I have changed much in the past 7 months and I turn to Bathsheba with a different mind, a new perspective. I am planning to edit the whole of this narrative poem series and publish it as an ebook

I hope that you enjoy this small preview.

Raviera.

***

Goldset in late summer

As the desert guitar calls over

The dunes woven by winds

Caressing baked sands.

*

A masked wanderer makes tread

With rough shod feet,

Crests a dune without dread,

Though not as others before her felt.

*

Sunshine coming down,

Falling all around

And its weight is a tome unbound.

*

Weary with the long trek directionless,

The wanderer saw the board,

A long while ago in time fathomless

And has set out with at her back a sword.

*

Her hips bear a revolver each,

Solid grips of dark crystal rock,

Weapons of her far reach

While the blade is her close lock.

*

If she finds the one she would beseech

Before the desert clock

Ticks night-time over the breach

Then she is sure that no others do there flock.

*

Face a masked thing,

Hair all silver under a hood

Atop the cream colour robes bringing

A lighter top to the light flood.

*

Heat, heat, heat all around,

And nary a less inviting sight

Is there to be found

Than the crows in flight.

Void Dreaming – a dream poem

***

Skills of detection surprise even us

On an interplanetary scale, shimmers

Warn of fields lying in wait to tell

The false ones from the soothsayers…

*

We knew not what awaited us when

Our party crossed those space screens

Hung betwixt worlds without names,

Rare marbles indeed, shock unabated.

*

For what we wished to achieve, did

We dare go further than those before?

Nay, for what might escape chains

As strongly made as the void’s dreams?