al mattino, ci rammarichiamo nulla (in the morning, we regret nothing)

The narcissistic satyr plays his flute in the windowsill

focusing only on the notes he plays, oblivious to the scene below;

two men struggle over possession of a rake belonging to a mutual love interest

their scuffling adds an unintentional drum loop to his flute solo

his hoof taps in tandem with the rhythm.

 

Soft bells ring over cotton sheets

the drapery reflects the dew kissed by sun and moon.

Two legs- a man and a woman’s- cross like intertwined double helixes-

the shadows of their passion still cast in the perspiration of the floorboards.

 

Yearning and desire fade with the second hand

the trapezoid of emotion begins to trace itself around

men toil out the window looking for purity now lost,

arguing over tokens of feigned indifference.

 

The idol of desire sits poised over a femur

curls made of golden silk posing in her scalp

the beast of desire lies beneath

reveling in the scent of committed sins ,

his concerns are few

yet the idol ponders the fleeting nature of love-making and the guilt that follows.

 

A shining

flat orb rests beside her,

nonchalantly reflecting the mental impurities in her masque.

Flailing she chucks the portal to her moral error outwards

shearing into a billion infinities

it’s last image:

an azure crystal passing over white snow.

 

In the dramatic fashion, a dagger would appear

causing the (I-doll) to pierce her crimson compass to mortality

yet the trapezoid has formed.

 

She cannot fight it-

the form and shape have given birth

in the fierce orange cavern of sunrise flames

 

She turns her head

 to hear an illusionary lark

singing a song of comfort

 

all while the men below argue of comforts now lost

while the satyr plays

 

a tune of….

 

 

 

Author's Note

this is still very much a rough piece, so suggestions are encouraged

Reviews

[Dinesh Sairam]

Very flamboyant imaginations. Pinches of beauty sprinkled everywhere in this poem. Thanks for sharing. But, I have to say, there's not the certain 'Ring of poetry' to this, and uneven stanzas too. If this is too personal or special, let it be. If it's just another poem, I suggest you better put it in some rhyme scheme (I suggest ballades, but they're way too tough and often written only on sad occurring). This, otherwise, is a well-crafted poem. Keep writing. :)

[Awdures]

I edit myself all the time, I love the story you've used here akin to some allegories and fables. Take a look at the form of Rondeau ballad. I think that it would fit well in this form, and perhaps it would help you structure a few of those loose ends. I've been looking for some but I must say I can't find any!!

I loved the metaphors you used, very imaginitive! Overall excellent piece, can't wait to read some more.

[FlawedByDesign]

This must have been born in the depths of your imagination. It has such a surreal quality and tone. I commend you on such an extravagantly imaginative and often elaborate piece of writing. It is remarkable that such images would arise from your mind and spill onto the paper. I'll admit that some imagery was way beyond my head and would take quite a journey to decipher its meaning.

I'll agree with Dinesh in that the unevenness of the lines and stanzas gives this poem a unique style. It reads like a story even through the shorter lines

Nicely done! Definitely made me wonder :)

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

the surreal qualities are absolutely gripping~ since this is my own flavor of writing~ I can take the drink straight up with no chaser~ =)~
the dancing lattice of metaphors is pure mind candy~
and being partial to satyrs and the every day sparks blown through the magikal terrains of a human mind that slips between dimensional twists~ not only am I shelving this but will revisit when the drab old word tries too hard to nip my heels~ thank you for the trip!~ =)~