Roswila's Dream & Poetry Realm

SEE ALSO: TRYING TO HOLD A BOX OF LIGHT (photos, realistic to abstract)

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

BREATH OF MIDNIGHT (photomorph) & A MYTH-MOVIE-DREAM (re-post of old free verse poem) by Roswila


Night after night he has summoned her
to his dark forest kingdom,
to quake before the cold throne
of his love.

Silent and brooding, he dips
his horned head in a massive
swoop of entreaty.

One taloned hand grips a stone arm
of his throne, the other trembles
vaguely toward her.

The pale wraith of her soul
flutters before him.

"Why do you call me here," she cries,
"night after night, stealing my soul
from the sleeping flesh of my body.
You know I will never love you."

Her small face waivers faintly
alabaster beneath the stars.

"Yes, this I know, this I know."
He shakes his head sadly
and boulders leagues away tumble.
He shifts his goat thighs, and mice
and owls and lions flee for cover.

"Yes, this I know. I have called you
one last time ... to set you free."

She burns briefly brighter, a pale
pink rose, under a sere moonwind.

He spreads his black wings, utterly
blocking stars, moon and sky
from her sight.

Then folds them around himself again
with a sound like a universe
of crumpling leaves.

"You are free. And I ask only one thing
of you." He reaches toward her again,
opening his dark palm.

There in its center glows a small pearl,
black and glimmering.

Compelled, she steps toward him.

"Accept this pearl from my heart.
When memory of me rises like the dark
of moon, and it will, this I know,
it will, hold this pearl of my pain
to your heart and think of me.
And no matter where I am, what worlds
or abysses I traverse, I will know
that I am not forgotten."

His huge hand trembles, almost closing
around his offering, but opens
at her touch, like a wilting flower.

She lifts the pearl in her insubstantial
fingers, then cradles it unsurely
in her palm, as a wind rises
like a long sigh.

When it stops, she is gone.

He raises his long face to the stars.

The only sound in the stark night grove,
a thin howling.

[*re-post of old poem, written sometime before I moved here to CA in Feb. 2008, based on a movie character/myth, Calibos, and a subsequent dream I had. When first written and posted, it came from Calibos's point of view for me. On this re-reading and posting, I'm deeply connected to my own frustrated yearning to be set free from an unwanted and haunting attachment, as the "she" character (Andromeda, in the movie) ultimately is. Photomorph "Breath of Midnight" (4-08a-15 027v2) by Roswila]

PLEASE NOTE: in most browsers you can click on the above image for a larger version. Also, the photo accompanying a post is not necessarily meant to illustrate it, but to reflect some small, even slant aspect of the verse, similar to Japanese haiga (illustrated haiku).

There are many other sorts of posts on this blog. I indicate which are about or influenced by dreams. Some non dream focused posts are book reviews, "regular" poems (some by other writers), scifaiku, writing exercises, Tarot haiku, photos, haiga, and so on. However, most of those are in much older posts. There's a listing by month going back to early 2006, at the end of the sidebar.

* * * *
until next time, keep dreaming,

[a/k/a Patricia Kelly]
**** If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”). Roswila's other blog (dedicated to her photos only, i.e. no poetry or other writing; daily post)


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