Amaryllis

How can you be so tense and serious,
Dear Amaryllis; don’t you know the only way to bloom
Is not with shoulders up, hands balled, arms trussed,
But through two far-flung arms like sunlight’s starry plumes?

Just as a flower may reveal its face
And spreads its light into a soul-lit place,
It opens in a field of blackened space
To wrap it all into a bright embrace–

All but the bud. No light can reach inside
A fist of folded arms and face cast into stone
And overcast with shade, as if to hide
The very thing that should be shown and should have shone–

Oh Amaryllis! much have you abused:
Aurora’s gift of beauty never used,
Prometheus’ sacrifice refused,
Apollo abandoned–you stand accused

Of killing off the very thing you are,
Like weeds that choke the life from their own sprouting seeds;
Some suicide, self-fratricide, bizarre
Oblivion, the price of which is paid by me,

The one who wished to witness that beauty,
The one who always dreamed what it would be,
The one who only just wanted to see
Your flower blooming, petals light and free.

~Michael Danger Caskey

Advertisements

That Missing Song

That Missing Song

I came from the lip of the waning moon,
That snipped the night of starless, dark, and free,
And dipped me down through glowing white pontoons:
Reflections on the waves of troubled seas.

I went to where the cracks of sunbeams stray
Through seams of tree-lined dusk and dawn,
To cast their strings and play those golden rays,
But found it quiet: that old song had gone.

I came before the steadfast face of time,
That showed more rocky wrinkles than before;
I asked him when the missing sun would shine,
But that old man’s not speaking anymore.

I looked up, longing for the backlit moon,
But there was Venus–and her glowing tune.

~Michael Danger Caskey

Published in: on September 9, 2012 at 9:34 am  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , , , , , , , ,