THE HOLLY DANCE
Sophia grew the first step of the holly dance
around the ringlets of butterflies in pupa
molten membranes of beauty
swaying like balls under each leaf
the seven daughters of solstice laughed free
the webs of hair boney and wild
like tropics of hope and despair
every lift and fall of foot to the tune of ukuleles
to comas and whistles
with bellowing echoes of wind
rusting the lichen to coarse painted brick
the maidens wilted lilies with kisses bled from swollen lips
lads of all ages galloped to the meadow
the mere promise of musk in the rye fields
raising aloft their passion's hilt
to transpire the ill soil
drew dead harvest
and slew naked hummus,
slaked with peaty silt furrows of blossomed skin
fresh from the vicarage walks
across the weaver's barren haven
spruced
ghost-like
with the promise
of deciduous fairies
enchanted by poison and petunia bracelets
necklets and anklets
rooted in primordial sorrow
bequeathed in earth they pray
sodden with the worms
with the witches
and the craw of the land drawn albatross
so too were born the moths of spring
gestated until season's pass to Autumn
lonesome Sophia stepped then
the final step of the holly dance
Sophia grew the first step of the holly dance
around the ringlets of butterflies in pupa
molten membranes of beauty
swaying like balls under each leaf
the seven daughters of solstice laughed free
the webs of hair boney and wild
like tropics of hope and despair
every lift and fall of foot to the tune of ukuleles
to comas and whistles
with bellowing echoes of wind
rusting the lichen to coarse painted brick
the maidens wilted lilies with kisses bled from swollen lips
lads of all ages galloped to the meadow
the mere promise of musk in the rye fields
raising aloft their passion's hilt
to transpire the ill soil
drew dead harvest
and slew naked hummus,
slaked with peaty silt furrows of blossomed skin
fresh from the vicarage walks
across the weaver's barren haven
spruced
ghost-like
with the promise
of deciduous fairies
enchanted by poison and petunia bracelets
necklets and anklets
rooted in primordial sorrow
bequeathed in earth they pray
sodden with the worms
with the witches
and the craw of the land drawn albatross
so too were born the moths of spring
gestated until season's pass to Autumn
lonesome Sophia stepped then
the final step of the holly dance
This is good. Just came from the cafe, and listening to L. Subramaniam at the same time.
What a nice surprise.
Sending you a f-request.
A Former Life
LONG since, I lived beneath vast porticoes,
By many ocean-sunsets tinged and fired,
Where mighty pillars, in majestic rows,
Seemed like basaltic caves when day expired.
The rolling surge that mirrored all the skies
Mingled its music, turbulent and rich,
Solemn and mystic, with the colours which
The setting sun reflected in my eyes.
And there I lived amid voluptuous calms,
In splendours of blue sky and wandering wave,
Tended by many a naked, perfumed slave,
Who fanned my languid brow with waving palms.
They were my slaves--the only care they had
To know what secret grief had made me sad.
(One of many English translations of a Baudelaire number)