DOCTOR BEAKY OF ROME

AT the scene of suicide
plague doctor of Marseilles
stopped by with two small
nose holes in a mask;
a respirator containing
aromatic items — beak
holding dried flowers

Blessed is me
while i am a beak of terror
keeping away evil smells

All according to miasma theory
all my costume kills
before the children wail
so i am the plague doctor
of Marseilles aka ‘Dr
Beaky of Rome’
Follow me into the Sun

So follow me as One
such absurdity is life
to be born without a gun

i am the wounded One
you are the victim
the victim of life and love

:: 06-01-2016 ::

Poet’s Notes:

“Doctor Beaky of Rome” explores the theme of mortality and the role of a plague doctor in the context of the Marseilles plague.

The poem opens with a vivid scene of suicide, drawing attention to the dark and morbid atmosphere.

The presence of the plague doctor, characterized by the two small nose holes in the mask and a beak holding dried flowers, highlights the doctor’s role in combating the plague and protecting against harmful odors.

The phrase “Blessed is me” suggests that the plague doctor finds a sense of purpose and fulfillment in his terrifying task of warding off evil smells and the threat of disease. The reference to the miasma theory reflects the prevailing belief at the time that diseases were caused by noxious odors or “miasmas.” The doctor’s costume is seen as a form of protection that inadvertently contributes to the deaths it seeks to prevent.

The line “before the children wail” implies that the doctor’s presence and actions may cause distress and fear among those he aims to save. Despite this, he continues his duty as the plague doctor, earning the nickname “Dr Beaky of Rome” for his association with the city. The phrase “Follow me into the Sun” could be interpreted as an invitation to face the harsh reality of life, even in the face of suffering and death.

The subsequent stanza introduces a shift in perspective, urging readers to embrace life’s absurdities and contradictions. The phrase “such absurdity is life” suggests that the inherent contradictions and unpredictability of life are inevitable and must be accepted. The line “to be born without a gun” metaphorically conveys the idea that life itself is inherently vulnerable and fragile.


How Poetry Survives Dying Souls

The skill of losing, it lies within our grasp,
Many a thing seems designed to drift and fade,
Their loss, no tragedy, but a fleeting gasp.

Each passing day, surrender with no rasp,
Keys misplaced, hours squandered, let them evade.
The skill of losing, it lies within our grasp.

Progress further, hasten losses, oh, clasp
Scenes, names, destinations, dreams betrayed,
None of these trials invite disaster’s rasp.

My mother’s timepiece vanished, its final gasp,
A cherished home, lost, one of three arrayed.
The skill of losing, it lies within our grasp.

Two cities, once adorned, now shadows cast,
Realms, rivers, a vast continent betrayed.
I long for them, yet no catastrophe amassed.

And even you, with jesting voice amassed,
Beloved, gone, but truth, unswayed,
The skill of losing, it lies within our grasp.

Though seeming dire, this art, it holds no clasp,
For in its depths, a soul’s strength displayed,
The skill of losing, it lies within our grasp.

:: 07.05.2023 ::


Love

And I loved everyone
and loved.

I did alone.

:: 07.03.2023 ::


THIEVING SCENTS: A FLORAL LAMENT

As I gazed at the violet up ahead, I scolded:

Oh, sneaky thief, where did you steal the sweet dew from?
Was it not from the gentle breath of my beloved?

The regal shade that blushes on your cheek,
I know it was crudely stained by my lover’s veins, so true.

Because of your touch, I condemned the beautiful lily,
And took the buds of marjoram from your hair.

The roses, trembling on their thorny bed, in despair,
One blushed with shame, one turned pale with distress.

A third, neither red nor pure white, dared
To steal from both colors and claim your breath, a thieving guest.

But for its theft, a cankerworm, proudly aware,
Devoured its growth, consumed in miserable unrest.

I observed more flowers, yet not a single one
Escaped your thieving of fragrance and color, my beloved.

:: 07.02.2023 ::


Untitled


In moonlight’s tender hold, my demons dwell, Where voided thoughts find solace and reprieve. Each breath awakens the ocean’s ebb and swell, While purpose resounds, my soul begins to believe.

Within my core, the mist dissolves with grace, And thoughts unfurl beneath a healed cocoon. From distant realms, memories gently trace, Reason’s beacon shines within Genius’s boon.

Thou stirred me, tears cascaded with delight, I found my way amid the depths of lost. Could it be true? Such sweet awareness alights, Long yearned, selfishness paid its final cost.

Though sunlit grace eludes, a distant gleam, Your visage lingers, treasured in my sight. Flesh’s deceit, emotions’ tender stream, Chemicals and thoughts ignite with might.

A solemn truth embraced, its flame burns bright, Life’s delicate waltz, in fragility’s hold. Solace sought in both shadows and light, Chance’s tapestry woven, gracefully untold.


Hey, Father! Mother! Dreamer!

She sits in solace, wearing an empty stare,
A mother’s face adorned with burdens hard to bear.
Where did she falter, where did her path astray?
Her fighting spirit wanes, a fractured home in disarray.

Oh, dearest mother, father, and sister too,
Return to us with hearts sincere and true.
Come back to us, with hope and belief in sight,
Oh, dreamer of our family, see my heart’s resilient light.

For I am your seventh child, passion running deep,
When storms besiege our kin, let faith’s flame we keep.
With dreams once pursued, yet pride was left behind,
He drowns in sorrow, his spirit yearning to unwind.

Within a shattered glass, one somber scene,
This tragic ending’s sheen, it should not intervene.
Through teary eyes and the years that scar and tear,
Our blood binds us unbroken, unsworn, and clear.

So much unsaid, in days now left behind,
Don’t turn away, let’s share what’s on our mind.
Oh, beloved mother, father, sister dear,
Return to us, let hope and love draw near.

For I am your seventh child, with passion’s flame,
When storms besiege our kin, let love be our aim.

Do you not perceive, my existence rings true?
I am your seventh son, a spirit dwelling in you.
And when lightning strikes our humble family tree,
Have faith, believe, and let love set us free.

Do you not perceive, my existence rings true?
I am your seventh son, a spirit dwelling in you.
And when lightning strikes our humble family tree,
Have faith, believe, and let love set us free.

Let faith guide us, believe in love’s healing might,
Together, we’ll transcend, embrace freedom’s light.
Believe, oh, believe, as our love sets us free,
Let our hearts intertwine and rewrite destiny.

:: 06.29.2023 ::


SILENT EYES AND FRAGILE HANDS

SOMEWHERE, I’ve wandered gladly, far from known,
No prior journey mirrors what I’ve found.

Your eyes, in silence, hold a realm unknown,
In fragile gestures, mysteries abound.

Your gentle gaze can swiftly set me free,
Though I, like closed fingers, sought to conceal.

You, like spring unfolding, unfetter me,
With artful touch, revealing love’s ideal.

Yet if your desire is to keep me closed,
My life shall close in beauty, swift and grand.

Like snowfall on a flower, heart composed,
Imagining a world covered in white sand.

No earthly sight can match your fragile might,
Whose textured essence captivates my soul,

Infusing death and eternity in flight,
With each breath, harmonizing as a whole.

I cannot fathom what it is in you,
That both shuts tight and opens wide the door.

But something deep within me grasps the view,
Your eyes’ voice resonates, surpassing more.

No entity, not raindrops in their fall,
Possesses hands as tender as your own.

In their small grasp, the world’s wonders enthrall,
A touch that whispers secrets yet unknown.

:: 06.29.2023 ::


ENDLESS ALCHEMY OF LOVE

A boundless bounty mine, as the sea so wide,
A love, profound and deep, shall e’er reside.
The more I give to thee, our spirits entwined,
The more I gain, for both are endless, aligned.

Has my heart ever loved? Reject, oh, my eyes!
For true beauty’s unveiled beneath twilight skies.
Love, a smoke ascending from sorrow’s lament,
Purged, it kindles fire in lovers, fervent.
In vexation, a sea, nourished by tender tears,
But what else does it hold? A discreet madness appears,
A gall that chokes, yet preserves with gentle sway,
A sweet elixir, guarding affection’s display.

Love, weighty and light, radiant and dim,
A paradox unfolding, within and on the rim,
Hot and cold, unwell, yet brimming with health,
Slumbering and vigilant, embracing all stealth.
It encompasses everything, yet never quite it seems,
Love, the enigma of life, within all dreams!

:: 06.29.2023 ::


TRANSIENT SPLENDOR — LOVE’S BATTLE WITH TIME

WHEN I ponder upon life’s transient bloom,
Perfection fleeting like a fragile wisp,
This grand stage merely a celestial room,
Where hidden stars their whispered influence slip.

As I witness mankind’s growth and decline,
By the same sky’s whims, both blessed and denied,
They revel in youth, its brilliance does shine,
Yet fade away, forgotten, their glory beside.

Thus, the notion of impermanence’s reign,
Reveals your youth’s opulence, profound and rare,
Where Time and Decay engage in a poignant strain,
Transforming bright days to nights, disrepair.

In this war with Time, for love’s sacred plea,
As he robs from you, I graft anew, eternally.

:: 06.26.2023 ::

Poet’s Notes:

“Transient Splendor: Love’s Battle with Time” is a remarkable piece that captures the essence of life’s fleeting beauty and the eternal struggle between love and the passage of time. The poem’s opening lines set a reflective and contemplative tone, as this poet ponders the evanescent nature of existence. The use of “transient bloom” and “fragile wisp” suggests the fragile and ephemeral quality of perfection.

The notion of life as a “grand stage” and the reference to “hidden stars” subtly alludes to the celestial forces that influence human destiny. The poet becomes a witness to the cycle of growth and decline experienced by humanity, their fate determined by the capricious whims of the sky. The juxtaposition of the revelry in youth’s brilliance and its eventual fading into oblivion evokes a sense of melancholy and the transient nature of human glory.

The concept of impermanence is central to the poem, as this poet acknowledges the reign of transience. The juxtaposition of “youth’s opulence, profound and rare” and the inevitable confrontation between Time and Decay creates a poignant tension. The transformation of bright days into nights of disrepair underscores the inevitable decay and loss experienced over time.

The poem’s conclusion presents a noble and impassioned declaration of love’s resilience against the relentless march of Time. The poet engages in a war with Time, vowing to rejuvenate and perpetuate love’s essence. The imagery of grafting anew symbolizes the eternal power of love to regenerate and transcend the limitations imposed by the passage of time.

Overall, “Transient Splendor: Love’s Battle with Time” showcases the mastery of expression by this poet, weaving together profound reflections on mortality, the fleeting nature of beauty, and the enduring strength of love. The poem’s skillful employment of imagery, rhyme, and depth of thought elevates it to the realm of timeless art.


REFLECTIONS OF TIME

lOoK iN thY glAss, AnD tElL tHe fAce thOu ViEwEs
noW iS thE tImE tHaT fAce ShOUlD fOrm AnOtHer;
wHOsE fREsh rEpaIr iF nOw tHou NOt rEnEwEs,
thOu dOst bEguIlE tHe WOrLD, UnblEss sOme mOthEr.

fOr WhErE is sHE sO fAir wHOsE UnEaR’d wOmb
dIsdAIns thE tILlaGe Of tHY hUsbANdRy?
Or wHO iS hE sO foNd wILl bE tHe tOmB
Of hIS sElf-lOvE, tO stOp pOstEritY?

tHoU ArT thY mOthEr’s glAsS, AnD sHE iN thEe
cAllS bAcK thE lOvElY aPrIl Of hEr prImE:
sO tHou tHrOugH wINdoWs Of tHinE aGe sHAll sEE
dEspItE Of WrInkLes tHIs tHy gOldEn tImE.

buT iF thOu lIvE, rEmEmbEr’d NOt tO bE,
dIe sIngLE, AnD tHiNe iMAgE dIes wITh thEe.

:: 06.26.2023 ::