The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #70058 Message #1205493
Posted By: beardedbruce
11-Jun-04 - 07:10 PM
Thread Name: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest
Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest
Amos, Who made you capable of that decision? either post poetry, or shut up.
A Dark Corona
What vision can I hold, when dreams are dark And chill creeps into soul? How can I see If future offers reason, or might be Enough to some image of hope lend spark? Yet, shall I think that past would not leave mark Upon a weary soul? Will darkness hide The scars of heart that to dead dreams are tied? Can any shroud cover a wound so stark? My soul in silence dwells: I hear no muse To offer song, nor to receive my heart. What passions might I hold, when heart is bound In cold and silent tomb? Can hope refuse To fade, when all is grim? How can dream start When only shadows in the night are found?
When only shadows in the night are found To fill my dreams, how can I hope to know A reason to go on? Desire might show Image to heart, but silence has heart bound To dark despair: All of delight is ground Into the dust. Yet, should I try to light My dreams, when hope brings me such pain? How right To think of muse, when no replies resound? Should I care for the past? It matters more Than I might say: My muse remains a part Of soul. I cannot longing for muse end. I do not dare forget her, or ignore All that was never said: Dream offered art Far more than I might in my verses send.
Far more than I might in my verses send, I give concern. I worry still, but fear Heart cannot hope to hold past muse as dear As I desire: Regrets darken hope's end. I wake to find no dawn; Pale stars pretend To light cold night, but vision cannot tell Between gray thought, and black. Will my mind dwell On loss, or hope to future hopes defend? I care, but cannot alter fact: My dreams Have little value to my muse. I seek What will not be, that desires might not fade. It matters not: The desire I held seems Beyond all thought. I cannot make muse speak: No power I control can passions aid.
No power I control can passions aid. To hold to muse: Heart seeks for voice in vain Without bright dreams. How can I hope obtain From silence? Yet, can my desire be made To change, or bend? Shall I think that heart paid Such price for transience? I cannot bear That it is for illusion that I care: How can I heart's desire for phantoms trade? Ghosts fill the darkness: Memories now dead, But free to roam my dreams. I do not fear What was: Future alone frightens heart's night. I cannot forget what past words I've said, Nor regret one concern, or wish, or tear: Why can I not find muse to bring dream light?
Why can I not find muse to bring dream light And end this silence? Do I ask for more Than might be wise? Did I some god ignore, That Heaven withholds what could make heart right? What crime condemns me, that I cared? How might I earn reprieve, or pardon? I regret Only those words unsaid, that I have let All hope depart, by not holding muse tight. All passions pass, but I do not seek grave For my desires: I prize even the tears The memory of smile recalls to mind. Yet, memory alone does not dream save From bitter night. Should I look to spend years Waiting for end, with all my visions blind?
Waiting for end with all my visions blind, Echoes remain, to fill the empty hours With illusion of life. Does past hold powers To control dreams and thought, or with hope bind Dark night to all desires? Can I not find Some path for future muse to alter fate? What might my heart resolve, that hope would wait In silence? Do echoes of muse remind? The chill seeps in my bones: I ache, to try To move my heart from past. Nothing remains, But I am loathe to leave this tear-filled grave. When shall I forsake dreams, and know hopes die? How can heart binding burst? Let these tear stains Be all that I recall, and all dreams save.
Be all that I recall, and all dreams save From dark concern: I cannot ask for less, Nor more. I can only concern confess, That muse matters to heart. Is silence brave, To keep me blind? Had muse one reason gave I'd accept fate, but in silence I hear Only the absence: Hope does not appear, And all attempts to know have left me knave. I wish muse only well, but wish she'd say Some word of what transpired: Must I believe That all past conversations were but lark? I cannot forget past, nor future sway, But present gives me only cause to grieve: What vision can I hold, when dreams are dark?