~Esplanade~

By WordWulf, 29th Jan 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/a7iy09-t/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

~ Dead poets speak through their silence~they whisper “Return never more”~A child looks in the mirror~wonders, ‘Why in hell was I born’~

~Esplanade~

There’s an angry carpenter building
a table without any legs
a mother teaching her children
to fetch, sit up, and beg
The dogs of night make a prayer
for the lady without any hands
as she applauds the one-legged preacher
who left his parts in old Viet Nam
The little drug angel darlings
stare into the guns of the raid
and the children under the table,
bless their hearts... Esplanade

You will never know where I’m going
until your feet taste paths I have been
a tear and a cup overflowing,
sins of the lost captain’s men
I wonder if I might find purchase,
a brick or a ring in the wall
a coffin to hang on forever,
to hear the great sparrow’s call
There’s a chorus of blind singing patriots
flying a song without wings
They may lose their direction;
they will never forget how to sing
She is an opening flower,
a path for the living parade
Lay down in her soft bed of roses
and bleed... ah, sweet Esplanade

May be the Gods do not see them;
may be the Gods’ eyes are blind
There is no end to their praying
for surely the Gods must be kind
And they hide away from the madman
who tells them they are betrayed
He waits for the full moon to take him,
then he howls, howls... Esplanade

Dead poets speak through their silence;
they whisper “Return never more”
A child looks in the mirror,
wonders, ‘Why in hell was I born’
Some one has slain all its warriors,
tortured the king of its soul
Mother and father are preying
in the bar room for pots of its gold
Life is the constant reminder;
death, the warrior who waits
Fate owns the face in the mirror,
the key to the lock on its gate
So have you noticed her freedom,
the laughter behind all her lies
where chaos and order go dancing
and only chaos survives
I walked the shores of her oceans,
soft and cold and afraid
followed the paths of her creatures
cross her vast expanse... Esplanade

I have tasted the breath of her seasons,
her bitter root and sweet wine
and though I know she is wounded,
I seek her like something divine
As I approach her wound I am kissing
the blood drops her suffering made
my feet caressing her footsteps;
my lips whisper... “Sweet Esplanade”

She lays her pain out before me,
the soft ragged edge of her truth
I lick the scent of her fire
with the misguided tongue of my youth
The scars are written upon me
from sleeping too close to the wound
Skin so easily broken
on this eggshell side of the moon
And the tides are breaking forever
on a sweet violin never played
Where only warriors are dancers
on the last grass... Esplanade

I’m breaking bread with the serpent,
making love with the mice
There’s a game I play with the devil,
betting against loaded dice
And I die at the end of my prayer;
my face breaks the earth unafraid
Your heavy stones on my body,
I whisper... “Sweet Esplanade”

I have drunk myself into stupid,
sung her praises through my whiskey breath
for the tender peace of her body,
the long-suffering pain of her death
I keep a piece of her soul in my pocket
and I sleep with her every night
I hear the wind through the willows
and kiss her lips when we fight
But a beggar has set her on fire
for a ransom that will not be paid
A thief has stolen her jewels;
she suffers it well... Esplanade

There is a ghost haunting my castle;
she cries, I think I know why
Her heart is ten thousand times broken;
she tries, they won’t let her die
So she crawls in my bed of an evening,
struggles to keep me awake
I find myself reaching for her,
hungry for the love we could make
Courage lies under the blanket;
the windows are dirty inside
You cannot see through a mirror,
just going along for the ride
She is all, she is all that exists,
make myself naked and wade
Follow her down ‘til eternity passes;
she is all, she is all... Esplanade

All tangled up in my covers,
afraid of the dark and the day
I wait ‘til she comes to hold me
and chase my darkness away
Then I lay at her breast like an infant,
suckled and cozily warm
She covers my seed with the earth of her body
to shelter me from the storm
I drink her milk and I bite her,
feeding upon her the same
I call her triangular mother
and know her by no other name
With her blood and milk on my muzzle,
I cry in the mess I have made
She wraps me in flowers and powders my ass;
she is all, she is all... Esplanade

I live in a box in the attic;
measure my space two by two
drag myself out for holiday weekends
and photograph pictures with you
Maybe I’ll take you there with me,
touch with my hands in the dark
Which one is which, I get so damned confused,
like a child playing with cards
The best of the time I am rolling
in fields of flowers and shade
watching the children as they start their journey
into her heart... Esplanade

Tom (WordWulf) Sterner

Meet the author

WordWulf
Tom Sterner lives in Redding, California and Arvada, Colorado with wife Kathy. He has been published in numerous magazines and on the internet, including Howling Dog Press/Omega, Skyline Literary Review, The Storyteller, and Flashquake. His interne...(more)

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Comments

Mark Gordon Brown
29th Jan 2011 (#)

Another great poem.
I dont know if you read the notes I send - but your other Sexy article was great, although it had too many unrelated tags.
Unrelated tags are somewhat okay on a poem, although scattered tags certainly bring down the SEO value, but they are totally unacceptable on an article.
If you EDIT to fix the tags it will be fine.

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WordWulf
29th Jan 2011 (#)

Thanks Mark. I do read the notes and did edit the tags. I'll go back and check it again.
Best,
Tom

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Artur Victoria
30th Jan 2011 (#)