deepundergroundpoetry.com
Prelude in D flat Major, Spring Nocturne.
"The old forever new things....you foolish child!
The closest simplest things"
- Walt Whitman
Goodness it is terribly hot already this year.
The strange glow of the sky remains
And hangs like some anomalous zen ,
A purple and paisley blend of voluptuous restitution!
And what is learned?
That which glitters is the living life,
And life is dull days turned to gold.
The splendid raindrops of Chopin
Observe and cleanse
The epileptic comedy as it goes tub-thumping by,
And i am left feeling really very lovely and in love with living these days, comrades,
& it is a most queer feeling, i tell you, for such a natural and fantastic cynic as myself!
I would make a charitable putz and be glad of it!
Amongst a pleasant jumble of geraniums,
Offset from the promenade,
Amongst the perfumes of the flowery grass,
The ghosts of a thousand dead roses remember, unfurl and are blessed.
And O! Make of my aimless oddments as you wish!
Thru the shrouded forest and the bituminous underground,
Beyond a cache of rooms cloaked in smoke and revulsion,
The world curls closer to me and bestows her virtues with an even hand
In virile strips of violet, in chestnut furrows,
and slopes of thistle,
Amongst the hodgepodge of slant hills,
Down where the bluish river glosses green earth with the wetness of her lips,
The instruments of the years recall with a whistle
And the mind twists an enraptured ear
To behold the melodious mirth of them all.
Divertimento amongst the allium of April!
Here the tea is bitter & the garden is a wild thing, and yet and yet
The wide eyes of a child throw soft lanterns of hazel light
Into the encroaching night
And all is harmonious and dulcet
And all is new and tenderly together.
Egads! benevolent sweat!
Tears of dewy sweet spring!
This music bestows a halcyon pastoral
To my sentimental sap-heart,
& The incantations of honest labor return me to modest perfection
& The bent body of slavish labor has made me learn to love again!
And undeniably the embrace is honest-er,
The warmth athwart is a kiss pleasanter
Than the ten-thousand stale luxuries
That the slate & steel strictures of the city know.
Published 25th May 2013
| Edited 29th May 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 0
comments 5
reads 691
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
Anonymous
26th May 2013 9:32am
I could read this over and over and still be amazed about the words. This spring nocture has anything and everything in it that makes spring sing....breath takingly grand!!!!
26th May 2013 1:32pm
28th May 2013 8:12pm
more an other Calibanic brilliance....
Dame Maggie Teyte came up on the ipodian schuffleplay just as I started reading (singing Debussy, for which she was considered his greatest interpreter, & his favorite singer of his songs)---- it
fit the read
primaverde tone most
sweetly
obviously yr stuff is 'in a class by itself', as
the DUP rabble don'know how to 'respond' or admit to reading ye...kinda like my voluminous repertoire --Ha...
wee need to cultivate a more direct, 'readable',
(as in e-zUnderStand), relatable vehemence) ---
I need go beach for my daily "I dare ye, dear sea, t'sweep me a'wee" ritual"
Dame Maggie Teyte came up on the ipodian schuffleplay just as I started reading (singing Debussy, for which she was considered his greatest interpreter, & his favorite singer of his songs)---- it
fit the read
primaverde tone most
sweetly
obviously yr stuff is 'in a class by itself', as
the DUP rabble don'know how to 'respond' or admit to reading ye...kinda like my voluminous repertoire --Ha...
wee need to cultivate a more direct, 'readable',
(as in e-zUnderStand), relatable vehemence) ---
I need go beach for my daily "I dare ye, dear sea, t'sweep me a'wee" ritual"
Anonymous
13th Jun 2013 7:07pm
You. Have. Much. Style. And even grace. Blown away!
15th Jun 2013 1:21pm
