Your Face Under the Aspen Trees

Persephone Walking Away or Your Face Under the Aspen Trees
Feb. 19, 2010

Mangan's photo of Glacier Gorge, RMNP

As I walk in the sea of orange and red,
All I remember was kissing you goodbye in bed,
In the forehead wet and longing,
Tried not to wake you; every moment prolonging.
As I write these under the aspens,
All I can think about is you and my heart hastens,
To be with you by your side,
This yearning from all I must hide.
Instead I gaze at the splendor of the trees dying,
Oh how beautiful death could be; mournful crying
As they turn the mountains into wonders in their final sighs
Their rosy slumber are like our goodbyes
No beauty or grace can more be found,
Yet in sadness and sorrow woefully abound.

The First Light

The First Light or Sunshine
Aug. 13, 2010

Volegov's Malta Waterfront

Turn thy head sweetest,
So I may see them
As they bounce off your hair, your flowing locks.
And they animate every strand, every curl.

Smile for me my dearest,
So I may enjoy the moment.
The shimmer on your shoulders, sharp curves and angles.
The contrast of shadow against your supple skin; light bouncing to mine eyes.

My sight, don’t fail me now.
Lend me your grace once more.
As the sun draws her to me, like a painting on an easel.
Let me remember as she basks on sunshine.

The Morning Sparrow

The Morning Sparrow or Silly Little Games
Dec. 29, 2009

 Bouguereau's Humuer Nocturne/Evening Mood

On the small hours when you rise,
When the sun’s rays first lighten the skies,
I woke with you as you rose from the bed,
Feeling slightly lonely as your side laid emptiness instead,
As you take your night gown off; slowly undress,
I pretend to sleep, you wouldn’t guess
As you glide your beautiful body to bathe,
Small pretty legs walking with grace as if through warm water wade
I watch you from behind the soft sheets of our covers,
Stealing glances from a goddess, much akin to how lovers first discovers
When you came out, fresh and sweet, hair wet and towel soaked,
In my heart an extra skip evoked,
That soft Chinese lullaby you sang, with the classical music it brings
A hidden smile, under the blankets spring
As you put your clothes with graces full,
I moved amidst the sheets feigning lull,
There in that soft chair you took a pose
I saw your face through mirror, oh how it glowed
Sweet beauty that the shadows line
With make up painted, none such divine
As you leave, by our cradle you lowered you head
Pull the blankets off, my guise was shed
You kissed me on my forehead, wet and sweet,
On early mornings no better greet,
“I’ll see you at lunch, you silly boy!”
With musical voice you toyed
I fought the smile from my face to accrue
But I can’t be guile, you already knew
I pretend to sleep as I smelled your perfume,
Though you’ve parted your presence loomed
This little game we play every morn’,
My days with happiness adorn.

The First of October

The First
Mar. 7, 2010

Vettriano's Altar of Memory

It has been years and I almost forgot,
The days roll off my calendar, but today I’ve been caught
I’m sitting here reminiscing of your scent
Oh these damn memories, the feelings they bring I resent
When I look at the mirror I see your face
It almost looked real, I was dazed
When I open the door, all I see was your silly pirouette
Remember that dance you made that summer night?
They play over and over in my head like a broken cassette
I brush against my blankets and I remember your touch
You soft smooth skin, I miss them so much
Its half past three and I can’t sleep
Me and the mutt sitting on the balcony, we’re reminiscing your voice,
Oh how the times weep
I should forget this day, cross it off my life
Its useless now in my calendar; foolish memories cut like a knife
I wonder sometimes if I ever cross your mind
Because you do in mine always; wondering if you do in kind
How’s he treating you? Hopefully much more than the happiness I could give
All I have are these memories, the cold, and the alcohol that give me reprieve.

---

Samson's Prayer

Samson’s Prayer
Feb. 7, 2010

Bloch's Samson at the Treadmill

Remember O Lord, Your greatness
With the strength that I threw my enemies into the abyss
The thousands of foes I flayed
The boundless obstacles to waste I laid
When evil cringed at my mighty hands
In thunderous droves I fought till I was last to stand
Yet with little humility I took it as nothing divine
The virtues You’ve gifted; I boasted as mine
But now as I lay bald and blind
As the whips rack, with these stones I grind
Mine enemies laugh at my demise
With body broken and hands tied; I cannot reprise
Yet I look up to You, as I swallow my tears
Give me mercy, undo my fears
This final prayer I ask of You
To Your ungrateful servant please be true
“O Lord God, remember me, I pray thee…this once”
Give me just a little, avenge me from their arrogance
I forget Lord the thousand hills I ran,
This last barricade is all I ask; let it be the most glorious of my hands,
Lest I die wretched, please reprieve me from my affliction,
Hear these cries, award me my last conviction.

The Great Pretender

The Great Pretender
Jan. 31, 2010

Magritte's A La Rencontre du Plaisir

Charades and masquerades:
Games for my talents of hiding shades.
If feigning happiness is an art,
Then I’m its master at heart.
Watching you walk away with a smile on my face,
No hesitance, no regret doeth trace
Yet every second I’m wallowing in my own disgrace.
Because my love, I’ve always been the liar,
I’m the great Pretender, the best nature did sire.
I’ll never feel lonely; I’ll never miss you, not once,
If you knew how I really felt; like a wretched dunce.
But you’d never know, you’ll never see,
The sacrifices of my craft did to me.
To see you love another and say I’m happy for thee,
With a gleeful demeanor none could the heavens decree.
But when shadows could craft no more guile,
My heart is dead; O it’s the end of my trials.
I’ve won the test, the crown is mine.
Yet I cannot tell if it’s worth it, without the love of thine.

Selene

Selene or Lonesome is the Night
Apr. 30, 2010

Bannister's untitled work/Full Moon Over Harbor

Lonesome is the night
When the moon is full and the clouds are dark
Blinding rays stain the murky haze
Like paint grazed by brush, a wild painter’s abandon daubed
Yet nary a star dot thy skies
The howling winds that freeze the skin and rattle the bones
Retreating vengeance of winters’ twilight
The deep pools that are my eyes
Saddened by the beauty upon its gaze
Oh piteous sight, sorrowful and void
Through my window you wallow, calling forth my curtains dry thy gloomy face
The splendor that is you, O Moon
Reminds me of my own melancholy
For the fates that gave thee your glory
Are the same that imprisoned you to the cold solitary dark.
To dance and shine only with thy virtue alone; forever and always.

The Beauty of Walking Alone

The Beauty of Walking Alone
Mar. 8, 2010

 Hopper's Nighthawks

As I walked through the sea of flowers under a setting sun,
I couldn’t help but to pity my lonely feet; my life undone
On a path that the leaves and the flowers had mantled
The rustling of the trees as the soft breeze come, musical harmony when they rattle
These old familiar places that my mind recall,
Full of laughter and joy; now quiet and lull
Green grass where we tumbled and fell,
A slight throb in my chest from the reminiscent spell,
The cold shadows cast by the parting day,
The darkness it impart, that’s where my sadness stays,
But as I look down on my lonely feet once more,
That’s when the man in me implore,
Perhaps loneliness is an art all of its own,
In appreciating the good things in life; that’s the beauty of walking alone.

Always A Rifle on My Shoulder

Always A Rifle on My Shoulder
Nov. 28, 2009

Teter's Vietnam Reflections

’Tis a song of heart contrite,
Of fearless men, young and bright.
Innocent boys of their generation,
Poor bastards of creation.
Bald headed and dirty faced,
With scrawny arms and skinny waists.
Rugged regulars and rusty guns,
Heaving and dying on heavy runs.
Infantile jokes of girlfriends past,
Little treasures happily recast.
Brothers few in earthen holes,
Rain or snow, they are happy souls.
A photograph of home far away,
Hide their tears, courage portray.
Amidst the enemies, death, and dearth they smile to,
Youthful innocence sacrificed; these for their country do.
But at dawn when they fall to hostile foes,
In a little box their body goes.
At homecoming no glory greet,
No parade or high honors, oh bittersweet.
His only friends remember him,
In trenches and firefights they sing his hymn.
In mud, blood and beer they give a toast,
For no braver a soldier can they ever boast.

Remembering

Remembering
Jan. 17, 2010

Sickert's The Blind Sea Captain
 
I run my hand through your face,
Mapping every soft curve; your beauty trace.
I try to remember the details: every line, every crease.
I’ll take all the time the clocks would lease.
For when I’m old and gray,
When my memories nary stay,
Even then I want to remember how you looked,
God forgive me for all the moments I forsook,
Because when I’m old and gray,
When my own eyesight betray,
I want your face, sweet and bright,
To be the only thing my remembrances of this world recite.

Mother of Mine

Mother of Mine
May 9, 2010

Langley's Daydream

Mother of mine, how far have I been?
From the womb of yours to oceans deep,
From your loving arms to the hostile desert sands,
To the farthest corners I ran, never looking back from whence I came
Yet every step I took, you missed me still.

Mother of mine, tell me how hard has it been?
From the moment you found out I was going to be around, your dreams cut short
To the moment I arrived in your arms, burden on your every walk
The heavier I grew; the toll motherhood took on you
Yet every pain responsibility gave you, you loved me still.

Mother of mine, how many tears have you shed?
From my heaviest breathing to deathly convulsions' embrace
From the news of war to all my shameful failures
Despite my mortality that became your sorrow
With all the worrying I gave, you were proud of me still.

Mother of mine, were you scared then?
You were just nineteen, and the world was so big
I took your youthful beauty away and put those wrinkles on you
You had to wrap those ambitions and took a gray hair or two
You know I could never pay but you’ve never asked for anything still.

Mother of mine, would you change it all?
No more sleepless nights or the choice to put the food in mine instead of yours
You didn’t have to lie and plead to my teachers in detention that I was really a good little boy
Nor smile proudly of my diplomas, because you could have been with yours
Yet if you were given an option, I know you’d always pick to go hungry than see me so.

Mother of mine, remember how you use to tower over me?
Now these three little boys ain’t so little any more.
So busy with our ambitions, we forget to even call.
We waste our time with revelry and women; we’ve forgotten you’re the best of them all.
Though you’ve always remembered me, Mother sadly I can’t say the same for you.

Mother of mine, I hope you could hear these words
Your undeserving son, just want you to hear.
Mother of mine I’ll make it up someday
They’ll know I’m your son and the things you did for me.
When you’re old and weak, and the world has forgotten you,
Then, even then like you did Mother of mine, I will love you still.

My Love Affair with Sunday Mornings

Fleeting or My Love Affair with Sunday Mornings
Apr. 24, 2010

Rosetti's Beata Beatrix

I watched thee from afar
With strain in my breast and water in these eyes
The soft bounce of your hair burned kohl black
And the air that fluttered your soft drape
Opened forth the gates of Eden in me
That lifted the core and tinted its skies

I longed for thee from a distance
With yearning in my thoughts and fire on my skin
The soft shadow of an immaculate face grace the day with happiness' gift
The glow of your brown eyes lay unknown
The joy which turned into the pallor of grief
Knowing they shan’t turn to me

But I still loved thee from my post
Though with pain in my heart and sorrow in my mind
I waited for the beauty that glimmered ever on each Sun’s Day, that begot its fervor from thee.
The excitement of the heavens with thy soft skin that played with its angelic rays
Evermore to see you walk down on those mortal steps
And to those arms' clasps forever be kept; to another that gave thee thy smile.

How Aurora Lost Her Beauty

This Bed or How Aurora Lost Her Beauty
Apr. 3, 2010

Draper's The Gates of Dawn

The morning due hits the ground
As the morning bird’s first chirp sounds
I looked at the new day's dawn as it broke the sky
Tired eyes wondering why
‘Tis so lonesome on this bed
Warmth where it used to be; cold lay in your stead
Dawn's clouds tinged orange and blue
Yet the beauty could not imbue
The way it did with the happiness
When we use to watch it together, oh how it looked so blameless!
How our feet embraced and the light drew your face;
As it played with your smile and glistened off your eyes
For all the moments that I remiss
This most make me reminisce
Oh how beautiful the world when spring comes
Yet so shallow and cold; hollow and numb.

My Darling Before the Ball

Your Chinese Smile or My Darling before the Ball
Dec. 13 2009

Asencio's Scarlet Beauty

Curled black tresses glimmered against the light,
Black threads like sparrow’s plumage in flight.
It draped on skin, delicate and white.
Porcelain beauty in gleaming sprite.
Beauty in black dress, red lipstick and pink stilettos.
Blushed cheeks with dimples hallowed.
Your thin lips curled as they smile.
Simple beauty that made this night worthwhile.
On times I cannot find meaning to mine life,
Just your smile is enough to make it right.

The Little Death

The Little Death or Sweetest Ten Pence from Heaven
Feb. 12, 2010

Podkowinski's Frenzy of Exultations

The bumps on your skin that made me smile,
I traced them slowly, your moan erupted; none in guile
Lower lip is bit and red
Sucking air through teeth, the earth is shaking on this tiny bed
Thrusting and heaving, our sweat is pouring
Touching and caressing, our voices flailing
Slow and deliberate your head held back
Fast and savage your screams, they rack
As our muscles weaken the moments gets rosier
Like opening all of heaven’s doors, breaking spiritual barrier
The tingly feeling of our little deaths,
The moment of honesty, only of two lover’s breadth
Smoldering bodies of steamy excitement
Apex of life itself, then comes abatement
No such blessing could the Creator bestow
Than when your body and mine lay in this plateau
Your beauty is fulfilled; oh how divine
The euphoria when our bodies combine.

Imperfections

Imperfections
Feb. 15, 2010

 Dali's Galatea of the Spheres

The scar on your back,
The long legs you lack,
Your narrow shoulders,
The creases on you face that make you look older,
I love them all because they make you,
You think I’d trade them for another with blemish few?
Those hips you hate,
The skinny arms you berate,
Your tiny nose,
Your dried fingers and stubby toes,
I worship all though you may dislike them,
Your flaws make you perfect; my beautiful, my precious gem.
All the money in the world will never suffice,
Twice the offer to change them, I would not be enticed,
None more beautiful or complete,
No better happiness in me replete.

Rolling with the Punches

Rolling with the Punches
Feb. 7, 2010

"The fight is won or lost far away from witnesses--behind the lines, in the gym, and out there on the road, long before I dance under those lights." M. Ali

Ali vs. Norton, 1973

When the skies are cloudy, gray light of day
When the tracks are muddy, to your shoes’ dismay
You learn to suck it, through yea or nay
You’ll trudge through it night or day.

When your nose is bloodied, your ego is bruised
When your hands are buried, your soul abused
That’s when you pull everything, though your body is used
No glory more when spirit and body fuse.

When the punches are hard, and you want to surrender
That’s when the inner lion roars, beastly courage render
Because you know in your heart you can’t be the second contender
It’s not only through victory, but the greatness of the attempt, lays the splendor.

Empire of Dirt

Empire of Dirt or You and I, Against the World
Feb. 6, 2010

Millet's The Angelus

This little hovel with its busted sink
The rugged counter stained with your paints and ink.
The antique curtains, the peeling wallflowers,
Though the carpet is musty, we call it ‘ours’.
My bank account said zero, your car won’t start,
Yet we’ll change the world, I in politics and you with art.
These books I swore someday I’ll make millions,
With you, nothing is impossible in my aspirations.
When it’s cold outside and I got little hope,
It’s your warmth and smile, ‘tis how I cope.
Someday this nothing will make you proud,
You in my life are the silver linings in the clouds.

Poem on the Last Afternoon Up North

Saying Goodbye and Never Looking Back or Poem on the Last Afternoon Up North
Dec. 29, 2009

Afremov's Contemplation

I’m sitting here at the old square where we met,
Fought against all the urges of regret,
For all the things I did not say, for things I did not do,
For things I thought I knew, and the things I put you through,
The old pine trees where we laughed,
The bench where we wrote our names on our love’s behalf,
These are just little pebbles in our memories now,
Like the little moments we once avowed.
So I got up and walked away took one last look at my youth,
Best lesson in life is learning to accept the truth.

Sa Karikitan Siya Lumakad

Sa Karikitan Siya Lumakad
 Ni Lord Byron



Sa kagandahan siya’y lumalakad, gaya ng pag-lubog ng araw
Ng mga panahong walang ulap at langit na maybituin;
Lahat na sakdal sa liwanag at dilim
Tagpuan sa kanyang mukha at mata
Kaayaaya sa linaw na mabini
Tanging pinagkait ng langit sa matinag na araw.

Isang anino pa sana, isang sinag kuhanin,
Ang nagtago sa walang ngalang gilas,
Umaalon sa madilim na buhok,
Sa kanyang anyo ay nagalalaro;
Lahat ng diwa ito’y ipinalalaan
Anong puri, o anong irog nitong pinagmulan.

Sa pisngi at kanyang kilay,
Ang pagkaamo, ang pagkagiliw, lakip lamang ng pagkasigasig
Sa ngiting bumubuo, at kulay na umaalab;
Sabihin gaano sa ganda itong lumipas
Ang isip na ganap sa lahat,
Ang pusong wagas ang puri.

*my translation of Byron's poem.

Sunset at Kahalu'u

Sunset at Kahalu’u

Wait for me on the black rocks

As the timid waters lap against the silent shores

As cold foam washes the sands off your feet

Into the longing waters of the weary lagoon

There under the orange tint of fleeting light

And the veil of the whispering Pacific breeze

That flutters the leaves on the white church’s roof

And your black sun kissed hair against those lonely shoulders

Worlds away I’ll be there with you

As we share our feet in the same ocean; staring at the same retreating sun.

Painting

Painting
April 3 2011

Dali's My Wife

Painting

I loved you from the day the sunlight bounced off you

And into mine eyes, burning your picture into my mind.

The crystalline shimmer of your eyes glittering down the curvature of your nose,

Tracing the lines of your smile formed by the soft pink of your lips.

I longed for you when we were together, in the embrace of our youthful love,

And during the times when you were far, I imagined your voice next mine.

Remember when I closed my eyes and trace your face with my hands?

You asked me why and I said ‘twas to remember you even when I’m blind.

And I regretted ever remembering your face, with mine eyes and with my hands.

For I can still smell you, hear you, taste you, and feel you in my mind.

For I tried to forget you when you walked away as I pleaded you back.

Erase the sound of your cold voice when you said goodbye miles away one the last time.

It was foolish and hopeless to make you part of me,

For if I can make your real in my mind, who can erase it as I see you in those arms?

If I had done wrong it was to love; if a mistake t’was to love you most.

For even if I erase my mind black and void, the picture I painted would still be there.

The long black streaks for your hair and the sliver that line the shimmer of those tresses.

The darkened brown of your circled pupils, and the soft yellow of your perfect skin.

For if there was one great thing that I’ve created, one masterpiece I had made.

It was the image of light had made for me, here to stay till my memories are gone.

Jean Grey

Jean Grey

Feb. 2011

 Godward's The Delphic Oracle

Prepositions and nouns,

If yes, then you knew how you erased my frown.

Adjectives and verbs,

If not, then at least why the creases of my smile you made with art and verve.

You finish my sentences without saying a word.

Had I any means to say them, they would have been slurred.

You’re the subject, and shine is the predicate of my sentences.

My life is the object and I make no sense in your absence.