Of Night and Times

Of Night and Times

And Orion watched in wonder

As Shelley kissed the breast.

Of city lights and moonbeams,

The crescent, furtive quest.

An Bláth Beag

An Bláth Beag

There is a warmth

In the wind swept west.

 A candled corner,

Couched in the light

Of reflected braids,

Flaxen and youthful.

And joy at the solitude

Amidst the throng.

Of memories and not,

Noise and music.

The dancing brews

And waltzing meads.

And dreams.

Those daring hemlines

Of imagination.

Lifting and satin.

Life’s metaphors

Caressed in the self.

Sabrina

Sabrina

 

Light, solstice.

The poems of windmills turning.

Sedated sails,

Whispering through a frosted sun.

Or sunrise,

On midnight braids. Exalting,

Yawning wings.

Dancing in a dew drenched dawn.

Or music. Or rivers.

Or fields of sunflowers chorus.

Forests deep,

With pine and scented paths.

All in vain.

The hopeless yearn of parity.

Of all the stellar

There is no reflection of you.