you, the heavens

not a day goes by when I
in keeping with habit formed
or more formal need succeed
in keeping to a gentle slumber

Lugh himself cannot outdo
my pace, lacing lingering droplets
of sun one to another to blanket
the sky with his burning dawn

there is alluring much to adore
in the heavenly shores that seed
the sky with shimmering stars
at night and ply the morning’s glow

yet in laying my head at last
to rest nested in the softest cushions
or in rising to begin another day
to play this needed role or that

it is neither Lugh’s brilliance
nor even the Night Queen Rhiannon
herself, whose illumined curves
admittedly I do longing admire

but you, beloved, who in innocence
enchant me, enthralling my heart
and spirit rising to sigh and sing
your name again and again and again

it is in sight of your glowing eyes
that Lugh’s morning hues are deepened,
it is with thoughts of your beauty
that Rhiannon’s majesty is restored

Salt Lake City 23 July 2022

Image by kordula vahle from Pixabay

her lips

the sun seems to set
more slowly this day
reluctant to go
unwilling to stay

the course it traces
enlivens the sky
with tremulous tones
though evening is nigh

why wanders the moon
the dome of the night
chanting this love song
so needful and bright:

“how can you adore
so distant a maid—
in shadows you dwell
your life cold and staid

“the ocean knows more
of the stars above
than you, petty man,
understand of love”

“not true,” i insist
and fitfully rise,
“i know more of love
than mere studied sighs

“my soul hears the waves
of time’s eager flow,
my heart fills the space
of trees as they grow

“the heavens themselves
immaculate gaze
on my beloved,
whom they long to praise

“only her tender
heart can ‘hope’ define,
yet i will persist
‘til her lips are mine.”

salt lake city 10 may 2022

her smile

There is a tenderness about the night
a gentleness of the heart and hearth,
a craving for home and a warmth
that belies the still and willful winter air.

The moon knows this, and dipping
drowsily down around each
eagerly lifting fairy sweetly blesses
with lessening sorrows this simple man.

Night was when I first spied the spryly
playful image of her, a smile both
sumptuous and serene as keenly
I cast my glance about most beauteous she.

Had I time enough this exquisite maiden
to describe, still my words could not suffice,
for in her eyes I glimpsed more than
sweetness, but the tones of eternity itself.

I stared and stared and still my spirit
could not find respite from this need,
this pleading ponderous rooted being
that grows so to-ing and fro-ing within.

For have I not sought this delicious truth
for so many years, tearfully laughingly
dancing through a life that was at best
incomplete … until this soulful she

with teasing crimson curling locks
and a smile that sang of hearth and heart
and hope drew me passionately forth,
for in the night is a gentleness I shall never forget

and a voice that beckons me home.

Salt Lake City 09 February 2022

beneath the moon

The last time I saw her,
she was dancing with the moon
brilliantly bending, tending
most tenderly each fleeting
fairy that fairly reflected
the light of dearest Luna.
And that she could do this
at all, however smally sensual
she in contrast to the immensely
glowing orb so high above—
that she could so enthrall me,
being far too zealously adoring
of my fair heavenly love
who has no never, not once,
failed to please me—that she
I say could dancing deftly
fill my vision with grandeur
beyond compare—that alone
was enough to ensure my lasting
love, my eternal adoration,
for although she is gone now,
so very far from me, she will
always remain close, enshrined
within this heart, my shining one
my artist beyond compare,
staring at the falling snow
as she danced beneath the moon.

İstanbul 24 December 2021

lunatic

She has only ever inspired me,
conspiring with such passion within me,
imbuing every inch of this flesh
with the keenest and cruelest desires.

And I, poor needful soul that I am,
have only ever clinging adored her,
imploring my baleful beloved Luna
for one night more in her arms.

Yet now, she peaks at me disdainfully
behind these distant dreamy clouds
allowing me nothing more than
the memories of her I desparately treasure.

Oh my dearest soul, mournfully
do I invoke you on bended knee,
bowing graciously, gravefully,
come to me, for you have made of me

truly a lunatic, completely unhinged,
ready to leap from this terrible height
if only for the impossible chance
of touching you one last time.

strands

there are strands of time
that are effortless to follow
as they wrap themselves gently
meaningfully around my heart
tugging teasing me forward
to discover in the midst of all
that is common around me
that which is truly majestic

those moments now bid me pause
and wonder at the pleasure
of far more than a memory
but an enduring vision of sensual
you in summer enchanted,
like the kiss of a sunlit day
blessed by the barest glimpse
of the eager adoring moon

a moon aflame

It is only now when I craving
close my eyes, sighing for
this brightly burning need of you,

my muse, my ever urgently
infusing illumination waxing
gloriously by the light of Serene,

presaging dark before dawn caressing,
plying your hands across my need,
pleading with me for pleasures more,

as probing moonbeams descend
from, my quiet, quivering love, you
exciting eddies over the waters

that warmly pulsing flow through me
from the very deepest source of most
sweetly trembling teasing you,

who, so insightfully imparting
deliciously these whispered moans
of moistly possessing passion,

draws from the dark a light
in me that seethes with desire
and fire and a moon ever aflame.


[Of moonbeams and the dark before dawn.]

My Moon Resplendent

Brightly lithesome she dances across the sky
my joyful lunar maid, my all
her winsome ways ever appalling the jealous sun
so somber and staid, and she
unwilling to stay his commanded course
playfully japes with a rhyme.

How haughtily he cringes, wincing at her smiles
her lips teasing in mirth
birthing yet another game to play, a song to sing
my jocund jesting one
testing the stodgy sun with each twirling reel
feeling fully alive and sublime.

“Do you know,” I ask, as she passes again
barely glancing down,
“how much I adore you, mo gealach àillidh
my fair fae one on high?”
“Then rise,” she says, treading the night
“and know the truth of time.”

congregation of toads

o, sweet mad steve
on a hallowed eve
bright bonnie blesses
wee toads in dresses
of red and sumptuous silk

with father’s fiddle
in hand he diddles
grand at croaking flocks
in laced slimy frocks
splashing in bowls of milk

“leap and croon”
he summons the moon
“now bow your head
to these toads in red”
says this priest less than wise

yet even he
as gleeful can be
has enough sense
to get him hence
ere the cruel sun should arise