Modern Romanticism

The aspect of romance, divided between the heartening and the thoughtful.

Poem – “The Flesh that now Guards Me” – Romance

August 7, 2019
romanticindeed

When upon the time in a distant romance,
When love once guarded her form,
When a frame had guarded a painting,
When my arms had guarded truth,
I knew for once in my life,
That my home is not this home;
It is the space in her heart,
And upon a face, where quivers an aching smile,
I would die to know her, again,
And make beauty remember me for the while.

Death has shaped her space,
A black heart has now formed tendrils,
Corruption has made its presence,
Am I still in love, or have I made death?
When modesty once placed itself about her,
As the love I made to guard her,
It was always a remembrance,
It was always a field of achievement,
It held a texture alike to those cheeks,
The ones I kissed adoringly.

My beauty, make we weep,
Beneath the moon of the evening melting
Of its silver coloring, in where I repeat,
“Make we weep! Beloved, make me weep.”

I breathe dust now over your shoulders,
And find merriment only among petals,
Where your tresses caught the air.

Flesh now guards my skeleton, and I’ve grown old,
Like the robes loose about the monk,
Like the hair loose about a woman,
Like the tears loose about the eyes,
Like the serpent coiling about the lie.

Love, with a breast I cup in one hand,
And your face in the other,
Would you rise if I kissed the mouth,
That said we weren’t worth the long road?

Poem – “As I Drown within Thee” – Romance

August 5, 2019
romanticindeed

Petals have fallen, over a naked leaf,
The soil has been where I found thee laying,
Frozen and dead, with a mark upon thy forehead,
The mark of terror. The mark of a beast.
The mark from a man,
Who knew your heart, taken to keep.

Beloved, with thy tranquil eyes,
That I still see, beneath this frail temple,
You have hair alike the moss,
That has grown over your mausoleum.
Beauty made luminescent,
By a face now dead, as I imagine all.

Beloved, there is nothing so alive to see,
Than my delusion being real.
My hands tremble when they extend,
For the face gone from this world,
For the life gone from this world.
Wherever thou be, thou is gone.

Denial has been my labor,
Intensive, in its strain.
My mind, is now once more,
Weary and heavy.
Corruption has drawn out tendrils,
And through them, I speak words:

“Where was love in its blackness,
Where was love in its light,
To it, now bare in darkness,
To it, now bare in sight.”

Poem – “A Face, and a Hollow Form” – Romance

August 1, 2019
romanticindeed

My sweet, kiss my bitter lips.
My love, how shall we dine on my guilt?
My beauty, with everything sweet to see,
My bitterness, is yet exquisite.

Under moon and star,
Under faces apart,
In love and lust in fire,
Far, we walk, under the endless fog,
To find a memory that was once pleasant.
Dream with me, dear woman.

Your black hair comes in long strands,
Down to where it reaches your toes.
Your lashes, your eyes, and your fingers,
All have curves to see, alike the earth,
And its curvature.
See me as former, never as latter.

Rawest pain and purest shame,
Has encompassed me in highest notes.
There is memory in my mind,
Tears in my eyes,
Each one, dropping upon soil at my feet,
Feel this with me, dear woman.

Is there Hell to separate us?
Is there Heaven to unite us?
Is there family to be made,
When we die tonight on the frozen rocks?

Poem – “A September Storm” – First Ten Stanzas – 7/29/2019

July 29, 2019
romanticindeed

Beauty has marked my way,
By dismembered flesh.
This is a tale of remembrance,
To one loss, that pined my heart.
One that left me aching,
One that left me wanting.

Oh, father. When shall you return?
Grief has left me with stains
Of the countless struggles beneath swaying grass,
And petals that fall to my hands,
Leave me to count the steps, if you may.
Leave me, for you’ve felt not the need to stay.

No blame, upon not even the sickness,
I am only in mere longing, from your absence,
Your guidance, a shelter that was so aware,
To the shadows I cast from myself.
To the faces that seem to forget,
I hold upon my throne a note that I’ve kept:

One note that reads,
“There is much challenge to overcome,
Much to see, and much not to believe,
There is much wisdom to know,
And much more not to show,
Nor to share, nor to care.”

I had believed until now, that the world deserves promise,
I had believed that the many smiles were true,
And until I grew to know, that there’s deceit,
Among faces swollen with pride,
Among hearts said to be alive.
And, among the rest, there we have infant apples.

Few would dare to show themselves,
In a world so unkind, as kind.
Few would dare to realize the waking tension
That bellows the flames around their mark,
Into the forests or meadows
Of either Heaven or Hell.

We live, as we are, under skies gray and barren,
With a wilderness as our hearts,
Solid and strewn in the world’s deceit.
And I have lost the guidance.
I’ve become among it, the deceit and the swelling tension;
Fires and waters, making the earth spark and shimmer.

Go well with it, we have faced kingdoms and death.
Of grief and pangs of anger, of emperors beheaded.
Of despair, confusion, and the overcoming
Of a manufactured fame.
We were never the ones to earn the world’s trust,
As like anyone, whose purpose is it.

We were organic in our compelling,
And makeshift in our failings.
As humans, we felt the urge to bereave
Over that which we hold close
To bosoms and hearts,
When the latter may never start.

It is winter, and upon this season,
Cold compels me to draw close
The numbness.
The havoc winter brings, to others,
Shall bring comfort, upon me.
And never will I find beauty to be a cause.

Poem – “The Weight upon my Palms” – Romance

July 29, 2019
romanticindeed

You surround yourself in an ebony shield,
An ebony garb, made by your loathing.
It feels to me like a weight upon my palms,
For I am the one who holds it close,
Like a man without the groping tension
Of one perpetual shame.

Disease and wine swim well with the other,
How famous we are, when in love,
But never so graceful as when we are drowning
In a current of pain and denial.

Have we love to behold?
Have we the moment captured?
Oh, beauty. Among you, there are flowers to rain
The petals and their thorns, on the soil
At my feet.

There’s much that is missing,
From your stagnant heart, that does not beat.
There’s much that is needed,
Beneath this moon that is full of color
Belonging to glaciers from the North,
And sorrow from a mother.

Find our way to love, we will do,
Of daylight and nighttime, as both become
The celestial landscape, upon plains of ivory, now.
Love, with your eyes under lashes,
And a pair of nostrils that breathe the fragrance
Of death and its eternal playground.
I shall come to love, and love, for eternity.

Poem – “Lose this Hold” – Romance

July 25, 2019
romanticindeed

Love, I’ll not ever lose this hold,
Among your hair, there are scoops of debris,
And among your cheeks, there are flowers agleam,
While among your lips, there are words stilled and silent,
As your chin was dipped in ashes,
And beholds a pale hue for myself to see.

Start weeping, and I will lose myself,
Your form is rotted and stilled,
And still do I see the colors that surround,
Your naked self,
When I had dipped my feet in your honey.
Oh, beauty! You have such a worldly complexion!

I ache, and I break, when the world takes us both.
Love finally crashes its own waves on the shoreline,
As I lean down to kiss you,
For but a moment in utter bliss.
Complete me, my torment and my woe,
My dream, my sky. My endless goodbye.

Poem – “Dreadful Longing upon a Rock” – Mythological

July 13, 2019
romanticindeed

She was the wind,
She is now the sea,
Calling out, for sailors to breathe
Their last, upon their own thirst.
While gulls transport, from water to scrap.
While faces of Heaven see downwards to her,
They call no strength to her longing,
Her suffering,
Is for a hopeless muse.
It is an ocean that brims darkness.

A fever, she once caused,
For the sake of amusement.
She now sings for the sake of relief,
She now hearkens to her voice,
Nested atop forlorn waters,
Upon a rock,
With nary a voice else to be heard,
Lest from her,
Whose longing curves rivers to the sea.
And beauty suffers endlessly.

Death, and its silvery essence,
Of white faces and burned-out flesh,
Of amorous curves from a helpless woman,
Of the harlot with her child,
Deprive her, the longing one, of her filthy pain.

Lose the denial,
For the meager while,
Name her sake to exist,
And place each pain on a list,
Scrawled by poets who are martyrs.
And translated,
By scribes from the Vatican.
Nuns and their habits,
Form faces of worry,
As all Hell falls between a woman’s memory.

Once a virgin, now a woman,
Now a creator of alarm,
In want for whatever else serves,
She sings the lone pain,
Deprived of any love, a futile love.

Make her famous, for Heaven’s kiss,
For God’s angelic mercy.
Make her the most wanted being,
Of sculpted flesh, of hanging breast.
Oh, God!
Oh, Christ!
Her putrid form is an encasing,
Over that which all have longed,
In the stagnant misery.
Oh, there is youth so gone!

By her wicked feathery wings,
Black as night, and her lips
That are drenched in her tears and blood;
By her desires, of everyone’s shame,
And her thirsty groin,
Two breasts as two apples,
And a mind of no one’s kind;
She is unloved, and so am I.
She’s lost the beauty she’ll ever be,
For a lover was never, her sanctuary.

Poem – “Face Me, Twisted and Broken” – Grief

July 13, 2019
romanticindeed

Face me, where you stand,
As your face shines the warmth,
Upon my disastrous form.
My body is heavy
With the pain of illness.
Disease has struck me,
Like the stick upon the drum,
Like the madness upon the mind.

My eyes are seen in yours,
As they too, swim in a lake of tears.
Do not be so idle,
When faces look upon yours,
To cast pity in your direction.
They are only in the attempt,
To be kind,
For they wish to offer a heart.

Take in yourself,
The solidness of a new morning.
My beloved,
Your face is so very wet,
With the tears.
But, I implore you!
Do not blame
Yourself, for yourself is too new.

There is much sickness in me.
Embrace me once more
Upon this rotten bed.
Let the tears be sweet,
And the kisses deep.
Show me not this pain.
But, make me a blessing,
For your heart.

Poem – “My Face is White as Death” – Grief

July 11, 2019
romanticindeed

As you stand when I lay
And die over me.
Tresses so bleak and heavy,
As the newborn moon,
As tears rain from a face,
To see my face barren and white.

As white as death,
As crude as this soil.
I am wrapped in a box,
For your weeping.

I was in pain,
And now, I see your pain.
Tears fall like the universe,
Should it ever collapse.

Oh, love! Deign yourself not to cry,
Over my ending.
It is torment that you endure,
Is it not?
My love, with so many tears that drop,
Become selfish for once, and step back.

Your empathy is so high,
And I am so still.
Cold and dead,
In soil, I call a bed.
Death has not been kind to you,
Though, has been kind to me.

I feel no pain,
No sorrow, but I am the witness,
To how you weep,
To how you seep,
Those tears, from between your fingers.

I am the soil,
To which you drop your rain.
The death,
To which you let fall your pain,
Upon me, the dead man,
Who has left you, the deadened woman.

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