deepundergroundpoetry.com
Angel of Black Feathers
- Angel of Black Feathers -
A Tribute to My Most Beloved Muse…
The winds of autumn hath been fierce of late,
Echoing across New England’s countryside…
As, for calmer days, one is of a mind to wait.
So here I sit, pen in hand, where I doth abide,
Trying to find my muse and write my verses…
And an angel comes into my mind unexpected.
Such art, no bard or poet in truth rehearses…
It is spontaneous, and in inspiration perfected!
How to describe my angel, who inspires me?
She is not blonde, and fair of skin or of hair…
But she is fairer in mine eyes and in company,
Her charms art abundant, her beauty so rare!
I care not if others claim she is not as grand…
As the women in their fantasies, and dreams,
For to me she is the fairest in this or any land.
More pleasant than the softest forest streams!
She is rare of wit and charm and oh so sweet,
Her hair is black like a raven’s ebon feathers.
I find myself counting the hours until we meet,
Thinking of all the joys we will know together.
That I might behold her rich, soft brown eyes,
And see in them the light of eternal adoration!
Fairer to me than the darkness of night skies,
Filled with stars to smile down in celebration.
Her light is of her radiant spirit, fairer by far…
Than is the glow of the precious moon, itself!
Each day I feel elation, when we two confer,
And, she is a blessing unto me, such wealth…
Beyond the treasures of the ages as hoarded,
By those who know not the value of virtues!
Her treasure, is her heart, of purity afforded,
Like none I hath known, in many centuries…
As: no royalty couldst so envision in splendor.
Her skin, is not the porcelain of a pale doll…
It is richer, more gentle, more real and pure,
Because it is her own, and so thus I do extol:
The perfection of her as the Goddess’s own!
I told her this when last we spoke, that I saw,
In her, such divine beauty as herein is shown.
To me she is an angel, and such is her glow…
That I close mine eyes, seeing her as vividly,
As any visions of glory sent by gods on high.
I am happy she chose as part of her destiny,
The love I do bear her, enough to make sigh:
The fair folk of the worlds beyond this Earth,
Who sing all their days of glories long past…
Knowing nothing of glory, or glory’s worth!
Oh how they must sigh, all who eternally last:
Cherubs on clouds, who must smile on her…
That beautiful flower like unto not any other!
What other, couldst such loving verses stir?
I would needs must, mine eyes to so cover,
Were, I to behold greater beauty than she…
But there is no need to seek after any such.
I am so happy with my angel, so blessedly!
And so I pen in her honor, and thus touch,
The face of my angel in my mind’s eye thus:
Gently, softly, tenderly and with reverence!
No bard couldst do other, and so I must…
Sing here of my muse, in all of her radiance.
I am inspired, and in my inspiration I pen…
I pen with fire, with glory, and with all zeal!
She is, my contemplation; she: is my Zen…
Only far better, for she is divinity made real.
Oh angel, never think that thou art lesser…
Than those, whom society calls beauteous!
More splendid art thy black raven feathers,
Than the white of the angels called glorious.
They hold not a candle to thee, never shall,
And if thou art a fallen angel, as I am also…
Then let us fly together, even if we two fall!
Better thy company, than Heaven’s woe…
For Heaven to me is not paradise without,
Thee at my side, to share in pleasant times!
So smile, sweet one, and so do not pout…
For just as I honor thee here in my rhymes,
We shall walk together, soon, so laughing!
So singing, that people will think us mad…
As in happy times we will both be basking.
So smile my sweet one, and never feel sad!
Soon thou wilt see the rain and the trees…
Of thy dreams, and thy hand clasping mine,
Will be warm even in the winter’s breeze!
It shall not be so long, sweet angel sublime.
No more, the heat and the fellness of cities,
Nor the malice of others who hounded ye!
Soon will come the day for thee to seize…
And, at my loving side, thou shall fly free.
We will fly, together!
Two angels: of black feather.
To a garden containing two flowers!
Mine, a black rose of night’s own powers,
The other blooming like the sun, brilliantly…
A flower just for thee: for my sweetest ivy!
A Tribute to My Most Beloved Muse…
The winds of autumn hath been fierce of late,
Echoing across New England’s countryside…
As, for calmer days, one is of a mind to wait.
So here I sit, pen in hand, where I doth abide,
Trying to find my muse and write my verses…
And an angel comes into my mind unexpected.
Such art, no bard or poet in truth rehearses…
It is spontaneous, and in inspiration perfected!
How to describe my angel, who inspires me?
She is not blonde, and fair of skin or of hair…
But she is fairer in mine eyes and in company,
Her charms art abundant, her beauty so rare!
I care not if others claim she is not as grand…
As the women in their fantasies, and dreams,
For to me she is the fairest in this or any land.
More pleasant than the softest forest streams!
She is rare of wit and charm and oh so sweet,
Her hair is black like a raven’s ebon feathers.
I find myself counting the hours until we meet,
Thinking of all the joys we will know together.
That I might behold her rich, soft brown eyes,
And see in them the light of eternal adoration!
Fairer to me than the darkness of night skies,
Filled with stars to smile down in celebration.
Her light is of her radiant spirit, fairer by far…
Than is the glow of the precious moon, itself!
Each day I feel elation, when we two confer,
And, she is a blessing unto me, such wealth…
Beyond the treasures of the ages as hoarded,
By those who know not the value of virtues!
Her treasure, is her heart, of purity afforded,
Like none I hath known, in many centuries…
As: no royalty couldst so envision in splendor.
Her skin, is not the porcelain of a pale doll…
It is richer, more gentle, more real and pure,
Because it is her own, and so thus I do extol:
The perfection of her as the Goddess’s own!
I told her this when last we spoke, that I saw,
In her, such divine beauty as herein is shown.
To me she is an angel, and such is her glow…
That I close mine eyes, seeing her as vividly,
As any visions of glory sent by gods on high.
I am happy she chose as part of her destiny,
The love I do bear her, enough to make sigh:
The fair folk of the worlds beyond this Earth,
Who sing all their days of glories long past…
Knowing nothing of glory, or glory’s worth!
Oh how they must sigh, all who eternally last:
Cherubs on clouds, who must smile on her…
That beautiful flower like unto not any other!
What other, couldst such loving verses stir?
I would needs must, mine eyes to so cover,
Were, I to behold greater beauty than she…
But there is no need to seek after any such.
I am so happy with my angel, so blessedly!
And so I pen in her honor, and thus touch,
The face of my angel in my mind’s eye thus:
Gently, softly, tenderly and with reverence!
No bard couldst do other, and so I must…
Sing here of my muse, in all of her radiance.
I am inspired, and in my inspiration I pen…
I pen with fire, with glory, and with all zeal!
She is, my contemplation; she: is my Zen…
Only far better, for she is divinity made real.
Oh angel, never think that thou art lesser…
Than those, whom society calls beauteous!
More splendid art thy black raven feathers,
Than the white of the angels called glorious.
They hold not a candle to thee, never shall,
And if thou art a fallen angel, as I am also…
Then let us fly together, even if we two fall!
Better thy company, than Heaven’s woe…
For Heaven to me is not paradise without,
Thee at my side, to share in pleasant times!
So smile, sweet one, and so do not pout…
For just as I honor thee here in my rhymes,
We shall walk together, soon, so laughing!
So singing, that people will think us mad…
As in happy times we will both be basking.
So smile my sweet one, and never feel sad!
Soon thou wilt see the rain and the trees…
Of thy dreams, and thy hand clasping mine,
Will be warm even in the winter’s breeze!
It shall not be so long, sweet angel sublime.
No more, the heat and the fellness of cities,
Nor the malice of others who hounded ye!
Soon will come the day for thee to seize…
And, at my loving side, thou shall fly free.
We will fly, together!
Two angels: of black feather.
To a garden containing two flowers!
Mine, a black rose of night’s own powers,
The other blooming like the sun, brilliantly…
A flower just for thee: for my sweetest ivy!
Published 23rd Nov 2014
| Edited 3rd Jun 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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23rd Nov 2014 10:44am
Such love for your muse dear Jessica. That it inspires you so much in this poem.:)
Yes indeed! I wrote this one for my lovely Zoey, whom I sometimes call Ivy. She's been one of my constant inspirations of late. She told me that she adores this tribute to her very much, which does my heart good to see. My love for her is every bit as beautiful as this poem sings of it being! :)
Anonymous
23rd Nov 2014 4:09pm
Lovely and tears in my eyes. Oh dear Jess, I love love love your poems! They are always a glee to read! The poem as I kept reading on and on tears begin to tingle in my eyes you and I suited so beautifully in this poem. This is second of my very top favorites. Its pure and a work of art, dearest Mother of my Soul you done wonderfully! Blessed be, my dear Mother Jess ^^
I am so happy to see how much absolute joy this tribute to Zoey has brought you to read, dearest daughter of my heart and soul! I too was rather more than a bit teary-eyed when I penned these verses, so it makes me feel very joyful when I see how much the finished poem means to you. A work of art indeed, is how I view any such work I create where love is the force that drives it and one so dear as Zoey is the inspiration! I am glad it is on your list of top favorites, sweetie. Thank you for so much high praise of it! Blessed be, beloved Tiger Lilly! :D
23rd Nov 2014 6:07pm
I love the idea of "a black rose of night's own powers." Beautifully written poem.
23rd Nov 2014 10:49pm
That was quite the powerful line, wasn't it? Deep, dark, Gothic and romantic... yet so simply put too! I tried to create one single line relating to one single flower that would best sum up my heart and soul and the whole of my being, and then I was reminded of that line from classic poetry "She walks in beauty, like the night." and that inspired me, because it sums me up so well. Then it hit me! A black rose of night's own powers. Because I do indeed strive to walk in beauty like unto the night itself. So that line stuck and it turned out perfectly and led into the next segment flawlessly, especially with the flow and rhythm of the whole rhyming scheme I had going on here. So happy you liked the poem, my friend! :D
