The comfort wasn’t in the slightest bit startling,
instead, it posed as a plum
and fell into my palms, willing me to bite—
the taste of cosmos on roseate lips,
is enough to aid thought,
was he music, or art, a form of poetry, the end
or the beginning?
I was about to find out in a couple of moments.
A sweet visage, his lashes spoke of spring
of buds, a shade of blue—
whispering to me darkly so that I may awaken yet,
words under richmond’s sunset,
only- they weren’t mere words but fire,
smoldering remains
of what once was and will be;
now that we are closer to death and beyond.
I rake the embers and hold an ear out for omens,
as the plum orchard runs rancid,
and queries laugh in my face—
who are we, what are we, angelic or otherwise,
lost or in search of realms,
the echoes of human world seeming cold
and distant to me,
as Prometheus drinks the last of his bourbon-laced
coffee and smiles,
the questions eclipse first with shadow,
then later with its consequences and direction of the game.
You are forgetting to breathe again, he replies.
It’s a hollow ache, isn’t it love?
An erotic war that continues, to this day,
to be the kernel of life—
human beings are fragile, when you think about it.
I bow, not in submission
but to strike with stone,
to counterbalance the titling pressure and put the odds
back in my favor—
understanding the essence of all that exists on earth
is all that one needs, I retort.
The sky floods with light, and thorny branches grow
imprisoning him with a thousand tiny cuts.
The lad forgot; he was dealing with a Poet.
We are inexhaustible.
Photo credits: The Palace Sky by Tomas Mikolaj, Pixabay.
Posted for “An OLN Memoriam to Glenn Buttkus” @dVerse Poets Pub
Never mess with poet, we have the power of (s)words. Love your language here.
Thank you so much, Bjorn 🙂 so glad you liked it! 💄❤️
That last verse in particular resonates strongly given its dedication to Glenn – his strong voice, his suffering and ultimate death
Thank you so much, Laura 🙂 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Just as wonderful as when you read it.
“The lad forgot; he was dealing with a Poet.
We are inexhaustible.”
Yes, indeed.
And somehow, I think these words are so appropriate for Glenn….his was a strong voice to be reckoned with.
And your romanticism when you write….no one does it better.
Those last to lines. YES!
And you, my dear, are the best romanticist ever…..a stong voice to be reckoned with. Just as Glenn was in his powerful words as well.
You’ve a magic pen that writes sensual verses and imagery every time! I’m under your spell! ✨
So rich as ever Sanaa, I was especially toched by your close – powerful and so fitting…
Love the ending lines Sanaa. You have written a compelling storyline melding myth with life’s realities.
who are we, what are we, angelic or otherwise,
lost or in search of realms,
The never ending question of existence is in the minds of all of us! Well done.
Love is the fire beyond the promethean gaming and erotic gambits. As Jack Gilbert wrote, it’s one of the great fires, the one that lasts by not lasting. And we thought mastering poetry was difficult.
I remember when you read this one, Sanaa! A fitting tribute–especially the final lines. 💙
Wonderful Sanaa. Glenn was a special force unto himself — strong, raw yet refined, unfiltered, real, and wholly irreplaceable. I truly feel the chasm he has left. Certainly I, and I believe dVerse as well, will be less without his unique view of the world. Won’t be quite the same again.
Those 3 end lines are a powerhouse. Well Done Sanaa
Much💜love
The last stanza is so badass! Powerful stuff. 🔥