The Wind is Isolde

The warden’s bewildered, the keeper’s amazed
as the gate gapes behind us, a hole in the haze.
Our steps seem uncertain, the cobblestones crazed,
pearly stars burn above us like pinwheels ablaze.
Though lanterns hang vacant in streets staring blind,
broken paths paved in puzzles compel me to roam,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The cannons keep calling, the piccolos shriek
and the druids drift, drumming, while pale pagans speak.
They’re urging me forward, my senses they’ve mined,
and the trail is erupting, come hie to the hills
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The looking glass glistens, a firefly glows,
and the brownies leap lightly on tiny tip toes
for the twilight’s collapsing, which serves to remind
that as dusk turns to dust, with no time for farewells,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The ponies of plunder prance, passing nearby,
as crusaders on stallions cast stones from the sky.
The figments they’re facing have paid them no mind,
but our broncos are bolting. Corral what you need,
                                        I’ll not leave you behind.

My visions are swirling, they flash from the crown,
from the rainbows of summer, the tinsel in town.
While the compass wheel’s spinning, the minutes unwind
inside evening’s auroras �" so cling to my cape,  
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

Drooping droplets of wax adorn pinched candle wicks
while the vampire steeple’s cathedral clock ticks
of the terrors in tombs where fagged flames lie reclined
with their flickers fast fading �" abandon the glim, 
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The orphans and widows lean into the breeze
watching horrified hangmen descend to their knees 
for the angel of mercy’s no longer inclined
to forgive vengeful  phantoms (oh Furies of night!) ,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The bandits are brazen, the highwaymen lurk,
some imbibing dark brews of a hag’s handiwork,
mostly gulping from goblets like goblins maligned.
Woman! Widen your wings, catching wisps of the wind
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The lepers laugh, leaping from tombstones of steel 
chasing rollaway caskets on luminous wheels;
while their shadows shake, shrouded, twixt trees intertwined,
twisted time melts at midnight, take hold of my hand,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The gremlins grope, grinning face down in the dust,
while the sprites and the pixies are watching nonplussed.
They sling bolted arrows at spectres enshrined
within winds somewhat flustered, just fly from your fears 
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The tattered toy teddies and raggedy Anns
have escaped to the skyways in kid caravans
but now, spellbound by fancies, know not that they’ll find
their parade’s evanesced into echoes of dawn �"
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The wind’s my enchantress, beguiles and commands
me to search for my fortune in faraway lands
and whispers her mysteries of passions entwined,
for the wind is Isolde �" unfurling my sails 
                                        I’ll not leave you behind.
 

Reviews

[Stefano Segnan]

Salute to you! Firstly, the rhythmic sequence is really lovely and I like how it always breaks in the last verse of each stanza but it keeps "beating" with the refrain. Secondly, I got a little confused while reading as I didn't quite understand what was going on until the very end. Now, I do not know if it is an issue or not, but better to point it out. Lastly, I really enjoyed the imagination in the poem, and the descriptive structure within each stanza is intriguing.

[Terry O'Leary]

Thank you Stefano, for your very constructive comments!
Maybe it is an issue worth considering... On the other hand, if readers end up reading it twice... all the better... (there are not that many readers anyway... ;-))
I'm happy you enjoyed...

[Coyote Poetry]

The poem is amazing. I had to read again.
"The wind is a woman, she burns like a brand
and conceals crazy secrets caught carved in the sand.
She whispers her mysteries but leaves them unsigned,
for the wind is Isolde " "
Myth, tale and mystery is my favorite. You had all. The above lines. I could write a epic tale from. Thank you Terry for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Terry O'Leary]

Thank you, Coyote! Very kind!!

[Coyote Poetry]

Was my pleasure and you are welcome.