William Butler Yeats- When You Are Old

When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
 

Poetic Reverie

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Poetic Reverie

Her heart strums, like the quiver of a violin bow,
Words escaping her lips with ease.
Warmth enfolds, spreading across cheeks aglow.
His delightfully torturous words tease,
Inundating her with the play of imagery
Dancing across the imagination, set free
To thrill and inspire.

He always captures her in his poetic scripts
Placing her in gardens of metaphorical rhyme,
With the scent of roses, and poesy on her lips.
Drunken with sweet wine of memories penned, sublime.
Epodic reflections take her on journeys to distant places,
Enchanting seascapes and exotic faces,
The hint of love forever in her mind.

Immersing herself in streams of verse
Wandering through paths divined by his muse,
Left breathless, reeling, senses coerce.
Her spellbound heart quickens, as his words suffuse,
The spell is only broken, by the sound of a clock
Ticking slowly, tick…tock…tick…tock
Her heart remembers to slow.

 

Dreary Bliss

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Dreary Bliss

A lackluster, granite ocean of mist
Engulfs the expansive skyline.
Somber, unstirring ashen seas persist
As mental faculties decline.
Despondency looms.

The drab-thickened air cries sullen tears,
Its apparent depression matches mine.
Gray-infested weeks resemble years,
As constant as Ponderosa needled pines.
Disheartenment blooms.

Powder-blue cracks begin to form,
Taunting with shallow peeks of azure bliss.
The precious respite calms the inner storm,
As mazarine waves wash away the cloudy abyss.
Dreariness no longer dooms.

 

Child’s Play

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Child’s Play

Ascending into Heaven’s arms
Shadows bend and darkness never harms
The void, where nothingness is bliss
Dominant mind ceases to exist

Riding upon the primordial planes
Silence constrains and awareness reigns
Rebirth of the transcendent soul
No longer under ego’s control

Dissolving into supernal happiness
No sin to confess, no law to transgress
Comfort in this skin, nothing to adjust
Surrendering Self to absolute trust

Absorbing love in recesses of heart
The place where passion starts and will depart
Submit will, give entirety of existence away
Bliss is found in child’s play

 

Happy World Poetry Day!

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Poetry is not only dream and vision; it is the skeleton architecture of our lives. It lays the foundations for a future of change, a bridge across our fears of what has never been before.

~Audre Lorde