Poems III
Peter Rehard
Poems III
Peter Rehard
Copyright Peter Rehard 2011
smashwords edition
Song of the Night
Elle
What my eyes long to see
To the broken Hearted
To a Woman
Song of the Sun
The Finding of Truth
Reflections on a still night
Song of the Earth
Realizations of mistake
Sinking
Song of Hell
A Pastoral scene
Song of the Night
Blackness born from chaos bred
In silence, sung while man in bed
Dreams of peace and love and cheer,
To raise his heart from pits of fear;
Hides in blankets lest he cries
Towards heaven his teary eyes
Gaze at her poison and ills;
The furies are not at her will.
Though dark the light through her goes;
By her shade its effluence grows,
Then pays homage to the Gods
Before it falls on earthen bogs.
********
Elle
Sweet Elle, all eyes befalling her adore,
Like foul Helen, praying on Grecian shores.
Told by the Gods I know not which to tell:
Her innocent youth, or how the girl fell.
Men say the web of the Fates only holds
What Clio and thundering Zeus have told;
Yet now leave all Gods on their thrones in rest,
By their bidding my voice and lips are blest
To sing of things true and untrue alike.
Keep watch for dead things do not appear white
Always, but at times red, green, blue and black.
Believing lies brings society back
To a dark age where no light can be seen,
There men think shadows shine brightly and gleam.
Elle, standing in the budding age between
Fair youth and life hardened maturity,
Still held the jewel that virtue had placed;
Tight skin, wide eyes, thing shape and glowing face;
Seemed an angel wandering earthly plains,
Bereft of heartache, grief and human pain.
Each morning she awoke and took a rose
From thorn bushes around her house in rows;
One line for each year she had been alive:
Four bordered her home on every side;
Yet only one flower a day would bloom,
Like one truly healthy babe from the womb.
Never did she a season full recall
Where flowers dotted each green prickly wall;
Yet during night the compassionate Moon
Pities the garden and one flower blooms.
Elle, ever cautious hold her rose as life,
Caries it with her and sleeps throughout night,
Holding the stem and its thorns do not smart,
Nor stub one who is truly pure at heart.
One glistening morning when the wind plays
Pleasant music and the sun points its rays,
Down on mankind and no shadows are seen
Behind or in front, only when their feet
Are picked up, yet no man to them looks
While such beauty on the horizon brooks.
On such a day Elle, went down into town
To gather food, clueless of her renown,
Does not see every eye on her alight,
From envious dame and man within sight;
All craving a semblance of her form:
Alikened to perfection, from God born.
Innocently she goes into shops,
Buys milk, bread, and eggs. Men’s faces soon drop,
Glancing away from her eyes that invoke,
With contact truth and self hatred provoke.
On her way towards home by chance a man:
Virile and strong with large muscular hands,
Stands in her way and flattering when she nears,
Doubles her joys and agrees with her fears;
As men who say all things right to appease;
Subversively their possessions bereave;
Did cater to Elle’s every delight,
Surrounded her completely as dark night
Holds onto Earth, though she fears will give in;
So mixed inside: comforted and frightened.
The man used much charm and a favor asked,
To have her rose and in its meaning bask.
Saying, “None of my friends such flowers hold,
Nor have delved into the petals and folds.
If I to them with such a prize return
Double are my joys for it inward burns.
I desire that flower above all
Things towards the Heavens rise and Earth fall.”
Yet homeward she continued and him passed,
Slipping from his rock hard, enchanting grasp.
Further on she met a glamorous man
Displaying fine fabrics and jeweled bands,
Rich in odor and attire conveyed
A vast contrast to such a simple maid.
Seeing her he spoke with fervor in voice,
“Madam, you conduct yourself with such poise,
Made greater by that bit of herbidry,
In your hands nature sings maternity;
On my lapel or in my hat would make
Chief example of my hierarchal state.
Men spying me with that flower in greed
Would supplicate, I would rise in great speed.”
Speaking as a man whom by others grows;
Exploits and destroys but always is low
For his soul never rises to the seat
Of kings as he aspires, but in the streets
Looks rich but is worse than the noble fools
Mocking themselves, babbling as they drool.
Again past the courtesceant she withdrew.
His self praise at her no trusting imbues.
But still one more man on the road awaits
For gentle Elle, and her precious rose take.
His frail face in its demeanor was hurt,
As those men whom sloth imprisons from birth;
Slow in motion and speech; never begins
To do, or stand, or walk before life’s din;
Yet, seeing Elle with her rose became light,
Rising to his feet, explaining his plight.
“No joy in me has ever resided.
Always for my actions am I chided,
By those who know me but do not love me,
Caring not if I die, or if my soul flees,
Like the nightly stars fading before dawn;
The next day nobody notices gone.
That flower to me new happiness brings,
And hope for the first time in my heart sings.”
Yet neither did that man her rose obtain.
For the time being he in sloth remains.
Finally home ,in thought, fair Elle renews
Contact with the three her rose wanted use.
Now to tell whole stories the Gods despise
Far more than poets love crafting lies;
Better to leave the future in its place,
And not move the marble stones of past states;
Yet, know no woman with such a prize does
Wait always for the one who deserves love.
********
What my Eyes long to See
Sun, rising as a jewel God has placed,
Glows, casting light upon the human race;
By it on Earth all things live and are seen
Like shimmering stones beneath water gleam.
Only one who sits above the water,
Cautious and his movements never falter
Stirring the surface, views and truly knows;
Yet all things are distorted bellow;
Sets passing near the horizon and courts
Deceit but for a period to short,
Giving way to night, whom blackness holds,
Hides objects and lastly our mind’s eye grows cold.
Until as a beacon of our small hope
Sun breaks the horizon or mountain slope,
Coming in its magnificence to aid
Man in a region where lies, truth allays.
********
To the Broken Hearted
Women, numerous as the grains of sand
Which God could hold in his infinite hands:
Grasping the universe and life comforts,
Bends light, creates dimensions, space distorts;
Coat the Earth like wheat stalks upon a field.
Its crop during harvest only chaff yields.
Self pity cast off when relations break
And the heart alone misery creates,
Knowing the body is mastered by mind.
All things fade and alleviate in time.
A good kernel by its name can not be.
Only its removed image do we see.
********
To a Women
Men lust always after the softer breed,
Hoping to molest soft inverted lips,
Lying bellow a belt or gown unseen.
Using all tactics under clothes he slips,
One intruding hand, her innocence cleaves,
Or with rough tools her virginity rips;
Boasting about neither repents nor grieves,
But to his friends with a smile quips,
“Friends you think soft a lady’s garment sleeve.
Nervousness through your limbs chilling, drifts
As you caressing her begin to breathe
Hurried and frantic. Your desire lifts,
But how much more soothing her warmer parts,
Lending a cure to your burning bodies,
Settling the fires within your heart
By the glorious gift in her body,
Or as you spreading her two legs apart
Loins and sweetness in loving pangs ravish.”
A lady’s essence to the nose smells tart
But man by its odor becomes famished,
Drawing his soul to a region so dark
Only truth can prevent the souls vanish,
Exposing all sin to a goodly spark,
Uncovering a path hard to manage;
As when Apollo his chariot brings,
Gold and glittering through the darkness thick.
Ending the nightly rule of dim Selene;
All before his raiment light bends and flicks
At the corners of blackness, night soon leaves;
So does truth iniquity mar and dint.
Will he take consciousness of the bereaved:
Once a glowing star, now removed its glint,
Burnt out like a candle behind a screen.
Gone is her picture neither rock or flint
Can kindle the image of her lost scene.
Why defile the lips one longs to kiss;
Sodomy makes loving relations weak,
Palling the shade of once boiling bliss,
Turning the beloved colder and meek.
The lover becomes bored and soon will wish
Upon a different dame, on her reek
Filthy fantasies in the mind rich,
So foul not even the doer can speak,
But to her as his voice quaking in pitch,
Begs his mind not those inner demons breach.
Spoiling one, the other can but slip
Good stature: never, only whoredom see;
As those women whom men bring upon ships,
Using their bodies until the first mate
Alerts the captain and bad luck expels,
Brings her tattered form to the railing gate
And pushes her into an ocean’s swell.
Such women on earth will always degrade
Until being brought to the depths of hell;
On earth to a holy monastery;
Yet the latter will not hear golden bells,
But brazen tones of her lost chastity,
For all her time continually knells,
Marking a lifetime of true misery,
And constant reminder of how she fell.
For no just man marries a woman torn,
Despite fair beauty, leaves her in the street
To be broken further and forlorn.
Thus women of all ages, men, please retreat
Until he earns the privilege of your form
By much affection and proven entreats.
Never will he abandon you to scorn,
Despite imperfections always complete:
Resolving to better himself; does mourn
Short comings, understanding them, succeed;
Promises to be as the moving stones
Changing, and not at all in rain and weeds.
Once married unlock the treasures you hold,
Yet not before, no common man resists
Temptations so strong unless he be bold,
As a monk: all acts of lust he desists.
Such actions bring good men unto the fold
Where the tempted and tempter same persists;
Yet, pity above all the men who did,
Through life immorality and love twist:
A winter garland above their head cold;
Dead its leaves and stems always transfixed,
To infidelity their bodies sold:
It perverse, corrupted, a sinful mix.
Through many deceits and forcefulness gained
Entrance to love’s chamber without a band;
Not one paltry care on her body laid;
Breaking old laws the God Eros demands;
No mastering of the body displayed
Or weaving of the soul’s dangling strands,
No honor to any virtue is paid;
His only thought is of lustful man.
Once dead he for his crimes will be arainghed
And pay a penalty for each women.
Chastity and pureness he threw away.
Blind to many faults: what worse punishment?
Be cautious of all men who courting come.
Riches do not display his inner traits.
Jewels are cold, so is the body numb,
Impoverished within though fine clothes displays.
Seeming a king but worse then city scum,
Rotting in gutters with disease soon taints
Young children that unknowingly succum
By innocence inspecting its remains;
Arrayed gallantly but much like the bums
Who daily earn unwarranted disdain.
Bad seeming good; and good bad is not one
Man, but numerous as gold chutes of grain,
Grown from the earth by our life giving sun,
Rising abundant on Earths fruitful plains.
As is their nature by title undone,
Cautious always of appearance will lay
Much abuse upon the girl whom they won.
In private conversation to her say
“Now girl in public your hair should be spun
With thick curls falling past your shoulder blades.
Your face powdered but never should it run,
Lest seeming a sweaty fool in a play,
Cause me embarrassment and misfortune,
And all hard work that spectacle allay!”
Fear men who in display cover their faults,
Yet too men with no qualities to show,
Coming to you bare equipped with a heart,
As if that alone a family grows.
You need not a princely coffer to vaunt,
Bathing in its copious golden glow;
But a strong man not prone to bouts of sloth,
Lying in bed as all you possess goes;
Toil in fields; nay, rather sleep as moths
Watching the sun kiss the horizon slow.
At night search for light, their spirit is roth.
Self hatred and pity through their veins flows.
Such men are babes that maternity seeks
To nourish their bodies back to good health,
Preparing them food and by soothing speech,
Placing hope onto their dreams saying wealth.
Your tongue will urge on him necessity;
Yet not by overtness or sideways stealth
With his thoughts turn towards prosperity.
Some mothers, furious their children pelt;
Only by maturity do faults flee;
Vain are your fist’s blows, its meaning not felt.
He will not grow up, or depression leave.
Only bring you deep into his dark well.
All young girls and mature virgin dames
Fall not before men whom think you pretty,
Nor those who possess riches and high fame,
Or men calling your motherly instinct .
They bring only heartache and jeering shame.
Dwell always in virtue’s truthful district:
Temperance and holiness’ domain.
There you will find a lover so perfect.
In him passion is released from constraints
Being fearless of God’s righteous verdict;
Earthly torments and husbandry complaints;
Loving you as Jesus on the Cross did.
Now know the poet speaks not from his loins,
Nor what brings his body fleeing joys;
But allows his soul and mind to speak free;
Understands those parts care not for such things.
Each day his body aches, itches, and burns
And always after a woman longs and yearns.
*********
Song of the Sun
Hyperion, Hyperion,
God of light where have you gone;
To what do men sing out in joy;
Omens ring by hands employed
To search out where the god has went;
High heaven their courses bent,
But see not his raiment gleaming
In starry heaven, streaming.
Above the Earth they take their paths,
Fly, until they come at last;
His palace, gold, at which men gaze.
Perish in a fiery haze.
********
The finding of truth
In the sky flashed a set of seven orbs,
Hovering bellow the dull opaque moon.
Hidden to us was the truth of their forms,
For we could neither hear nor see
As they clipped the peaks of the trees.
Alighting in the expanse of a field,
Where the grass arose to our shaking knees;
Saw the ships drop their electrical shields,
That singed and sent smoke through the grass;
We could not draw a breath to gasp.
We were amazed by their technology,
Seeming to stem from a distant planet;
Making no sense of our theology,
Unsure if they were foreign gods,
Or if they a deity brought.
Because the advanced ships a symbol bore,
Not a cross; two equal lines crossed through mid,
And it made us think of the Christian lord;
But fear soon put our thoughts to ease,
As figures through the hull broke free.
We saw them step through a billowing cloud,
Rolling from the ship and some people ran.
As they neared towards us across the ground,
Hidden was the shape of their face,
By fog and smoke filling that place.
Then as if Selene drew away her veil
The thick fog and rolling smoke disappeared,
Leaving only the clean evening air;
But all men and women had fled
And I alone the party met.
When first I saw their faces, thought insane
Myself or diluted in fantasy,
Fell asleep or wild in the fields ranged,
As a beast, seer, or hectic
Caught in a vision: prophetic.
They outstretched to me a real human hand;
Jovial and kind spoke a greeting,
Yet, their words I could barely understand;
Grasping each hand shaking lightly
And was countered so humanly.
Then I asked for what they searched or demand,
Since I was not a leader on earth;
But those men simply drew me by the hand.
Onto their ships I was taken,
And felt in always protected.
Once on board I was strapped into a seat;
And could find no difference between us.
Restrained, swallowed a pill, doped into sleep;
Unconscious until arrival.
Then of their planet I marveled.
All of the travelers marshaled in trains,
Moving through a metropolis city.
From the pill my eyes held miniscule pain,
But still they could produce vision;
Strange were the things I envisioned.
I saw people and animals as Earth’s:
Trees, plants, rocks, building, vehicles, and roads.
It was similar right down to the dirt;
As in language, music, and art.
Our world seemed made of the same parts.
As we went their higher intelligence
Shown in their creations as far advanced;
But that remained the only difference,
As if our age was one before
And wanting of higher thought more.
I went with the trains through their whole city,
Seeing their parks, museums, galleries,
Schools, factories, buildings, technologies;
Viewing the whole like area
Feeling under delirium.
I was brought before their just seeming king,
Into his high court surrounded by chairs,
Filled with members of a parliamentary;
Cheered me joy, begged me ask questions;
Praised ideas’ identity.
Then on a fleet ship, sent me back to earth.
A short story with a journey far to long.
From them I obtained what is of most worth.
Secretly returned to my home,
Never did word or sign I show.
********
Reflections on a Still Night
Why can I not be like the moth,
Perched on the branch of a safe tree,
Throughout the empty night that spot
Cling fast and never the light need,
No matter how vibrantly sparks,
The flame which my desire feeds—
Or perhaps it is just a leaf.
********
Song of the Earth
Glory, the life giving Goddess,
Her bodice holds us as blest
Offspring of the Gods, though we breathe
Air, not the Hesperedes’
Breezes that waft through the groves
Of Hera, the white armed, blow
About her orchards, and then on
The golden apples. Hope anon!
We will not know their sweetest taste,
Only what the Earth for us placed
As victual; her hair is grass,
Beds, long as the fields and vast.
********
Realization of Mistake
A girl winked at me. How temptation brings
By an open eye sin’s remembrance;
Like swords into a woman’s flesh of sin sting,
As hot rods on the skin marks of crime brand,
When lust as love, like armor covers man.
How many have I forsaken by fraud,
Turning love into lust before it grew;
Drawing upon my bones the wrath of god,
Chided so, those errors never saw
And suffering worse being blind to flaw.
Until like a flood from the river spreads
Reproach, fueled by rain, coats man’s crops and fields.
Leaving both fruits and weeds bloated and dead,
As if that great soul broke a holy seal;
At once the error of action I feel.
No longer can a woman my hands touch,
Nor make amends by being celibate;
As a prisoner of the past now clutch
Towards the ideas heaven contains;
Yet every instant my body pains.
*********
The Sinking
Waves, rough waves on the hull like steel blades rip
Gashes In our ship,
Tearing the black tar and plugs from her planks;
It flooded and sank.
Many men died and many more did mourn
There losses forlorn.
In mind seeing our bodies beneath sand,
Reaching out white hands,
Paler than the moon’s fading opaque hue:
Casts white, colors blue;
Towards holy God for their salvation
In desperation.
********
Song of Hell
Do you see me on this river.
Running from eternal sleep.
Acheron, cold bloody water.
How dark are the tears I weep;
But I trek along this river
To the darkest city Dis.
All my body seems to quiver
at the thought of life in Dis.
Far removed from pleasant weather
Warm abodes and fair maidens;
In Hades’ home is no shelter
Only time to make amends.
********
A Pastoral Scene
In the countries wild grasses and bowers,
Spotted with sunlight and growing flowers,
Many colored they rise towards the sky;
Where man first in wilderness did abide,
Beside the red rock of nature: drew the cup;
As the Israelites unfaithful drunk,
Where Adam shaded his weariness from
The healthy exercise and lesser sun,
Near graceful Eve, weaker in mind and breed:
She drew on sin to clothe humanity!
There stands a temple all men seek,
Yet forsake themselves from the city streets.
Muses of glorious metropolis
Breathe not ether, but sharp point on me,
For to speak is plain, but not to relate;
Aid: bring down in unbroken strain the tale
In morning sun and evening moon pale,
Before the seats of men in his temples:
Barrooms, brothels, hotels and homeless shelters;
All theatres of casting images,
Writ by the poets of imagination.
In the country once great families lived
Seeming of pastoral teaching and bliss:
A hard day’s work quiets wandering minds;
Poverty stilled by a callous hand’s rind;
Excess slowly turns into vanity;
But stay the toil to enjoy what is reaped;
This learned by all simple folk and believed:
Life made honest without philosophy.
In the hills and vales the children yell,
Pause, falter, start, run, jump, fight, cry and yell.
With much joy they commence to bring the moon
Down, during the day ebbing ocean’s boon,
While escorting the sun across the line:
Lying horizontal, it slowly wind,
Like Oceanus in majesty set,
Upon a coral throne in constant rest.
Once their daily toil finished and done
To their respective homes quickly run.
Genial women perfume the country air.
Rustic scents rise from the meals they prepare;
Odors wild: boiling herbs and parsnips,
Carrots, potatoes, and yellow turnips.
Chilled are freshly poured pots of foaming ale.
Fathers drink thankful, to merriment hale.
Sun set, families take their respective seats,
Pray to God, giving thanks before they eat;
Lavishing meat with sauce and gravy thick,
In front the table and flicking candle wick;
Congenial, partake of harvested goods:
Sweeter the flavor of their own farm’s food.
Once filled like black bears engorged and surfeit,
Fathers enjoy a smoke pipe in the street,
And the environ of darkest god Night:
Shadowed vanguard of Hyperion: light;
Taking her evening throne in the sky,
As familiar men salute passer byes.
Ladies pile upon the sink the wreck:
Dishes, cups, saucers, knives, forks, spoons, and let
Water and time absolve them of most work.
The house cleaned and swept, the children choose a book
For the paternal teacher to read out,
Down before the crackling fire out loud;
Regaling tales, crafted around virtue
Or cathartic stories of our tortue.
After reading all fly off to slumber;
Have sweet dreams bereft of Satan’s murmur,
Which floated in the ears of lovely Eve,
Full of his own evil conspiracy;
Aided by his disfigured Death and Sin:
Dearest children born and torn from within;
No! marvelous dreams reflecting constant
Peace in their lives, perpetual, distant
From murder, destruction; only old age
Put cracks upon man or woman’s visage.
There I fell in love with a young lady
Whose pure brightness shone marveling the sun.
Her face, it glowed in red cheeked horizons;
The pastures from its warm light rise and bloom.
Dainty flowers towards her body moved,
When she walked in the fields; the petals hands,
Swayed to her motions as she graceful danced,
Tossing her long skirt; bouncing dark brown hair:
Braided with red ribbon so soft and fair.
Her body slender; thin coquettish frame,
With a slight emergence from girl to dame!
The village boys were familiar and knew
Her voice humming gently and how it grew
To bursting song of love and chastity;
Her eyes filled with the human charity.
********