The Tide of a New Dawn

Author’s Note: The first narrative poem I have written. I have not written for a while, and this was the result.

i

I still remember holding you

As we fell from fresh summers’ skies,

Wishing for nothing but a solitude;

A rest in peaceful retaliations,

I can still remember the sparkling orbs

That glistened as you sang a song

To the sparrows and chirps we met along –

You were golden, with a silver rimmed edge,

And in one moment of liveliness, I was sent forward,

To guide you to your ultimate fly,

To see you through the hours till dawn,

And I could still taste the heroic blur of a half – lid bare,

A glare in circumstance was spinning toward the blue blares,

Not letting them yet enter,

And as the winds of heave drew aghast, I wondered around

The candle – lit stairs.

ii

Absurd was a query,

As the light of a new May found was here,

And yet the fire was still alight in dawn,

As the moon moved downward,

Leaving space for the goblet and beads of glass

Awaiting the god of all life;

The yellow pale was opened at last,

Letting out the splitting particles of dusty perfection,

And leaving no room for the star of a new destiny,

For once the moon has gone, the stars will follow

In a shadow whisper tight,

And to be seen in the remembrance of a duly played ocean,

Now taking rest from the harsh just of knots –

It had been trodden on in the bleakness,

Only now to be plastered with anew year,

Annulled was the wash – wish of the tides,

Knighting with jolly pride in her country

And into the rosy blushes soft,

Letting the little faces wave

To the known faery locked up in a tower,

Let un - trodden mystery left with her dawn. Her

Locks of gold were cherished by her neighbours,

Knotted into a mat of candlelight dear,

And the rosy bosom was never polished –

Brandied white in a mass of new redness,

Yet never leaving her body of silver

In a masterpiece of art, for the art

Of a body was the particle, glistened and plush,

Ruby blooms in a million bushes and tress

Singing to her melody, providing harmony

For the orbs of blissful blue awakened with duly awareness;

iii

The knight had once noted her glut –

And had returned the dawn to its rightful place –

Her stair, with the plum plush curtains blemished with peach,

And the plumy rose tainted nostrils now could odour,

But not without the sweet cherry a memory to the fire;

The chamber held as polished as a sweet new mystery,

Kept alive with the God of all beads in transient,

The swell of tides in purple contrast to the blue silver lay,

And not yet had he tasted the bomb of syrupy candy.

iv

But he knew that as before his yearly praise,

One must light the candle,

For the beginning of all life blew in shards of dust

Cherished by the all – mighty flame,

And that if ruby redness was to cease, then

Nothing must come between his glass and straw –

The harrow unseen was back again,

This time with the new summer’s dawn in his tow,

Chuckling it along with a spastic cackle,

And the bottomless box grunted in desire.

v

She awaited her dawn in a chamber of yearning,

The daisies had told her verse in forms of colour

In the early tide of habit, yet this did not yule her power,

It had severly bosomed her pride in the lovely present,

A knight in tale as folk had gathered to watch

The light and candle bright come together

In a token glass, complete with spins of light,

And as the rosy blush was once to be seen,

A master in waiting was harrowing his hags

Into a pile of dust, forgetting the manican

In favour of maidens not lost to the magician –

A plume of destiny in fate’s good hand.

vi

She was lost in waiting now,

Her pleasure etched in her ruby gloom;

She had not waited for her toffee run

Before singing praises to her chirpy, sugary

Sweet now before her in a trace of morning dew,

The new rimmed bottle of insolent juices

Melancholy with desire,

Waiting to be sipped from the bonbon numb –

She would bite the toffee in one spy, and cherish the

Golden ring of hope eliminated from this one touch,

vii

And as she was on her last mind, the chamber was interrupted

By the face of a knight in white maiden banished –

He was in a Porphyro madness, waiting for his

Madeline new, giving light to the candle sat waiting,

And absorbed in his plume now in – dating.

She was feathers in his touch, he left her in darling

Justness to prize the rosy blooms of cheeks unfrosted,

And a maiden now lost was the bride of misfortune –

She had lost her mountain soon of dear water and

Bounty, floundered was her baton of tide and swell –

But now she need not fret to the horse’s pride,

For she had her rose bud madness serene in her palm,

She had her pale knight in waiting to honour her tide.

He would see to her senses, match her swell and flow,

They would melt the candle together, watch the

Particles become one, under the fiery waters,

Would they split their wave.