Wednesday, 6 November 2013

'cause two out of three ain't bad

The waves have played a graceful tune that beg and that beseech,
That harmonise a lonesome tune upon Cottesloe beach;
While singing praise to juxtapose the orange, setting sun,
Their shadows twizzling pirouettes for all and everyone;
How could I not to have hoped to love for something so pristine?
Your weathered winds from star-lit skies that flit with sparkling sheen,
But most of all, what's seen by none beneath your swelling waves - 
A silent corybantic din like eerie haunted caves.

Oh, save this once, at least for now, while pelter does the rain,
I'd dance with you a final tune - dance even in my pain.

As slow as winter morning's come with smell of gum and dew,
A veil of brume coats twenty-eights that praise the day anew;
But 'fore a child has risen from her warm and comfy bed,
Let her 'nother hour's rest that she may fill her head,
With fanciful and vivid dreams of spotted, rainbow snails,
Of chocolate-covered unicorns, iridescent narwhals;
But mind you let her wandered mind not take itself away,
That she may come to sing with birds and love the coming day.

Oh, save this once, and once again, while the morn is yet cold,
I'd ask you dance a final tune - dance before I am old.

Sometimes while in summer's stead, a drizzle takes abode,
Where oft the sun shan't make his claim upon the song of toads;
And nary a neglected day has been before it's done,
There's much to do for everyone even with lack of sun;
To this I must implore to all, "your own is yours to find,
The limits of a person's thrill is but of his own mind,"
For one it may that books are 'nough to reverie and trance,
Mayhap another game of chess or if you will, a dance?

Oh, save this once, and do not fret, or flutter heart with fear,
I'd wait for your one final tune - wait even for a year.

That grandiose, unfettered moon whose bleached ivory stare,
Is without recompense from purloined rays of the sun's flare;
But whencefrom comes the humbling pitch, that darkness from afar?
Which blights the cloudless summer nights and halts bedazzling stars?
Ever if you've made a wish upon celestial beings,
For luck, for love, for carte blanche or, for gold and diamond rings;
Perhaps you've misconstrued somewhat of sidereal truth,
To ask of petty, simple things makes one seem but uncouth.

Oh, save this once, I do implore, that reap should what I've sown,
I'd ask you save me from this dance, whose folly is my own.

But, hark! What sordid ennui have we becked upon ourselves?
A miner bores a languished gash - into the earth he delves…
And for what wanting does he bring, the steel we sorely need?
Or is it that we feed our own - what comes to pass as greed.
I hope, though that, not all is bleak and dreary from such crime;
As surely as red Uluru has stood the test of time,
So does my want to reconcile, repent and live contrite,
Do unto you how you deserve and make my own wrongs right.

Oh, save this once, if only once, for posterity's view,
That all may see I saved this dance, for one and only - you.

But eventide - his lease is short and before him dawns none,
To bow with such subservience and loyalty to one;
I cannot say this heart does not yearn for Death's sweet release,
If only to have partook from the night's unspoken feast;
That serves the milk, ambrosia, and honey void of heat,
With lingered taste to reminisce of sickly, sorrow'd sweet;
Yet who could ask for opal lips and sapphire-tinted eyes,
Not while there's so much left to learn, yet still we're at goodbyes.

Oh, save this once, upon your cheek, that I may beg for bliss,
To dance with you this gloaming tune, and seal it with a kiss.