Seasons

I.
Season anointed with holy oil
In years of jeweled tears
Soul convulsed in goblets of ancient grace
With liquors from the pier
Point passed the gypsum wall
To a waltz for the old
Laden with anomalous lights
Prophetic was the lamp held in hands of burning sands

Regions conquered by flights of fire
Behind the hills of battle mills
Moonlit legions cross their game
Under influence of strange pills
Blown through zephyrs along a stream
Of cirrus waterfalls
Madrigal was the magician's night
Conducting orchestras of nature's forms in violent storms

March with bands in spangled shrouds
Near the end of the bishop's friend
Fold the scene to a rapier rune
In search as gold pretends
The theater aligned with costumed men
Sing psalms of forsaken time
Mirrors watch the Apollo sight
As gods reign upon the sky, a flickering orb in the muse's eye connects the link of god and man

II.
Reasons collide with the drifting sphere of jade
Azure paint upon the gem cascade
The day shall awaken
In lands lost and forsaken
For shows
For glows

Unlock dreams in prisons of night
Emotion captured the serenading sprite
He'll dance with the twilight child
Near the mountain for everlasting love
He'll know
She'll show

The houses of limpid lucidity
Have vanished from our grasp
The papers of ambient poetry
Lay burning in a mass
The children are all waiting
For the phantom who's instigating
The show
They'll know

III.
Treason shouts the priest at dawn
Shall he observe
The tidal curve
Alas an echo of the leaves
Shades of green
Appear on the screen

Oboes weep furious notes
In groups of frowns
Dressed in gleaming gowns
Pointing to the angry words
Faust and Mephistopheles
Plato and Socrates

Pipers lay in a pied form
Lead the strands
To the promised lands

IV.
Seasons call the art of rain
To fall upon the solstice dawn
Gather colors for the ancient moon
Landing on our lawn
The ancients hold the patterns
In trees of endless seas
The flame is getting bright
Soothe tranquility in the words of poems, anecdotes, and ancient stories

At last the stones float to sea
In an odyssey of thought
The bones are now free
As prophets softly sought
A concept has been spoken
The perceptions have been broken
They'll know
We'll show

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

"At last the stones float to sea
In an odyssey of thought
The bones are now free
As prophets softly sought
A concept has been spoken"

A very good and well written poem. Bravo......................