Yesterday I lost my Rackham Fairy locks and left the hairdresser feeling more like Sensuous Goddess Rock Chick with a return to my deep chocolate red wispiness and even some bangs. Today, I’m writing poetry. Ah me. Such are the vagaries of my existence on the earthly plane.
Moonbeams – Peter Mardon
Never To Be
Ah Muse, elusive drug of my desire
intoxicate
frustrate
cast your sensuous spell
Tease me, let me taste but then
coldly withdraw
just out of fingertips reach
And I …
finally …
come to know this …
“Never to be”.
Once I was a Hope
but now a mere side trip
on ramp/off ramp
you smile blithely “nice to meet you
but I now have newer faces better places to be
can we remain friends?”
But your lips aren’t moving.
Visitor to my soul
You left your rare illumined touch
embossed
in the depths of my being
as none have done before.
And oh how I grieve.
Never to be
My gates are closed to other fickle tourists
They will rust and gather dust and yet
I will drift forevermore
catch glimpses of me
within moonbeams
wisps of dreams and whispers of sound
if you but care to seek
I am there to be found
in the infinite astral
forever solitary
eternal melancholy.
In this life …
mere wraith to you
transient ephemeral
de peu d’régard
and yet I dare to Muse with wistful wish
Will you seek me in another existence?
Or will I remain in your disdain unworthy?
Never to be.
désolé
copyright 2007