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Friday, November 17, 2006

Remeant Souvenires Labyrinth

Voices arise and stem, some lipped, heard and acknowledged, some heard but overlooked, some unheard, and some undelivered or repressed within; few such voices over the ages enfeeble, recede and snuff out, and a few others reminisced and retrospected. Those lipped and heard are sweet, but those tacit's, sweeter...

From the aging arid areas, out of the clear blue sky few such voices reprise; reprise, relish and rage, and in the rummage of such voices, to remeant such intonations, to rejuvenate the senescent songs, searching once more for somethings, things that are far from the eyes, yet breathing within, yes the heart says its those souvenires again, souvenires again, and me to my heart not again.

To reman such revenant voices, I plan to write, to indite the same old story, the yarns of yore, the frail facts and facades of the former, the indomitable dreams of the departed, the unyeilding relentless moments, the inscrutable thoughts, the intangible feelings, and for all those moth-eaten mementos, deploring the self, while exploring the endless world and imploring the providence of its quiescence.


Ranting -Against- My -Yearns- Anew.....

With the heedless heart and meandering mind
incog, yet, more renowned as a rambling rye
for once, blessed with the serendipity to find
thine, the paradisical godsend; caught my eye

Thou spake, and broke the silence, n reticence for aye
Thou heard, not an otic act, but by thine heart and eye
listening to the fullness of quiet melodious chime
weren't we blessed with the flawless idyllic time?

For the frail flowers in the parching sun
were thy redolent heart the pastoral isle
for the faithful friar in the endless run
were thy angelic arms the final tabernacle

Far-off from all the satyrs, the true loves' heaven
Thine were the eyes, that became my new haven,
and the two blessed hearts singing rhyme to rhyme
a song; less personified as the rhapsodic venus hymn

Times renewed, and so did the visions
leading in the paths that assured wonder!
In our own devoir, we paced and horizons
widened, widended to thrust us asunder

Here again I speak, but none to hear
yet again I eye, where art thou dear?
Nothing to sing now, not even the monody,
besides, no one to concord, where are thee?

The world's tumbled to silence; me
a ravine stranger to my own name
searching for life, searching for thee
searching blind in the purblind game

Affected with the disgrace of an unknown fiend
in the ebbs edge, to find myself in a double bind
bereft is the redolent love in the scorched realm
searching for thy arms, that hath the endless calm

Digressing in the paths of ceaseless strife
Forlorn now, missing you to life;
cursing and confuting the lifeblood's rife
yet, living with twists of the knife

Every minute scruples and the memories dismay
aging in your thoughts, passeth one more day
lost to this world and lost to the self, hither I lay
counting the days, counting on the doom to defray.