In absentia clariae

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In absentia clariae

Postby Saturn » Fri Jul 20, 2007 9:52 pm

In absentia clariae

In absentia clariae, in absence of light -
Deprived of warmth I begin to grow pale:
Melatonin starved and vampire-hued.

Summer's lease is all but spent
And yet no sun thaws that ice
Packed tight; Antarctic- thickness.

This feverish, febrile mind
Gambols with every sense:
Divers cruel pranks plays
On such a fragile heart.

My eyes ever deceive, and every face
On every single street seems like yours.
Retina-implanted, yet blind to all but you.

Often I catch an eye, a face I see,
That seems a familiar picture but
They're only forgeries, pale copies.

No master could paint, no genius
Create another like to your smile
Or frame in art those bright eyes.

A host of spirits surround me
Ghosts of happy recollection
Are haunting my every step.

Your head lying still and peaceful
As a tired child on my shoulder;
The warmth of your hand's press.

Will I never behold and touch
That bright honey-yellow hair
Such even Midas would envy?

Must our mutual embrace
Be a phantom of memory
And fade with the morning?

I don't trust the embroidery
Of the mind's old archives
Give me surety of tomorrow.
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Last edited by Saturn on Mon Jun 16, 2008 8:53 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Postby dks » Sat Jul 21, 2007 3:58 am

I love the language you employ here in this one, Stephen...it's gorgeous, and compliments your devices...like these lines:

Your head lying still and peaceful
As a tired child on my shoulder;
The warmth of your hand's press...


I love the short i's and the smoothness of 'shoulder' and 'warmth'.

...and the tender agony supplanted in the ending stanzas:

Will I never behold and touch
That bright honey-yellow hair
Such even Midas would envy?

Must our mutual embrace
Be a phantom of memory
And fade with the morning?

I don't trust the embroidery
Of the mind's old archives
Give me surety of tomorrow.



That stanza with the Midas image is a mouthful of sweet word choices...'Midas', 'morning', 'embroidery', 'mind', and 'tomorrow'--they taste so rich together...but for freaks like me these stanzas put into my mouth apple pie, mashed potatoes, corn flakes with sugar in cold milk, chopped steak, and maple syrup all in a few short minutes while reading it... delicious work, Stephen... :!:

:oops: :oops: I realize I just rendered myself strange with this critique...sorry...my syn is a bit overboard at times...
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the Truth of Imagination."
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Postby Saturn » Sat Jul 21, 2007 10:57 am

You are too kind as ever Denise :oops:
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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