Dream Note No. 13 – Chopin

An arrival at a lodging by the sea,
like a piece from Aivazovsky;
with a party under the old pine bridge,
the trial sets our afflictions free.

The impending waves our comrades flank,
yet in peace and grace advances our rank;
on the rocky islet our senses embrace,
the scent of roses from a whitened bank.

Under the staircase the catacombs call,
at my retreat under the noble floor;
I chance upon your slumbering notes,
in a dark gallery by a marble door.

From nowhere chants a nocturnal plea,
as buried ghosts cling to their creed;
though the earthy waves their mirrors purge,
in ashes the familiar shadows they see.

Published in: on 04/11/2019 at 10:21 PM  Leave a Comment  
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Dream Note No. 12 – The Lark

Empty handed on an empty stage,
fingers frozen in a distant past;
forgotten melodies on an empty page,
forgotten friends in a wooden cast.

Which notes recount the summer days,
when dreams of winter imbue my heart?
Which, songs would autumn praise,
no more, he hears of the youthful lark.

For whom, the rainbow? They ride a gale,
riding along an unmarked road;
defiled by his vulgar flail,
redeemed by his Opheliac abode.

Cherished in his bloodstained hand,
memories to their gazes chained;
before the homely gates they stand,
that began with the windows stained.

By the balcony the lovebirds part,
with sweet murmurs of delicate love;
as she falls toward the lavish pines,
as marble before a labyrinth he stands.

The silent intruder the libraries hail,
in arias from his nightly ghost;
down he spirals on a silvery trail,
what courage he finds in this abyssal host.

Still the larks are in peace asleep,
as he steps onto the reminiscent rug;
urgency calls for a unexamined sweep,
for the night too shall return to sleep.

Yet reveries stun his capricious mind,
as old age returns with a blissful light;
as the silvery trail become diamond steps,
from his cello the lark takes flight.

Published in: on 12/09/2019 at 4:54 PM  Leave a Comment  
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