by Nicholas van der Waard

To be an owl, soaring through the night,

Or a breeze that blows through the raven

Hair of a woman, a lady in a silk chemise

Who reclines on a soft feather bed and dreams

Of love.

“The night is young but Saturn old smiles sagely.

Moon dreams, sickle slashing sleep sings, to me sweetly songs of sagely

Wisdom and love. What has been and what will be

Come mingle like dancers in the mind

Of a hopeless dreamer dreaming drifting

Lightly on a tide.”

Pleasant, content, artistic bluebell blossom feelings

Rivers run ruthless across the page. A field of

Roses—verily a sage! Killer of mine rage

Ink spills across the frame. The tiger in me

Timid, ere growling made sudden tame.

“The arrows of unbuffering consequence

Bounce forlorn from my skin,

Rain over my feet. Harmless blades

Of feathered grass. It now a fence

Around me to protect

Mine tender heart.

Earthen eyes eager scan the horizon

Surmise love’s next surprise.

Hurt’s hell, the fading knell,

Distant peal of oft-promised joy

Rings the siren another bell.

And I think, and I dwell.

Sleep and dreams.

Touch tomorrow toy-like streams

Happiness moon beams, sorrow seems

To fade.”

How like a fallen soldier I felt, defeated, my goodwill utterly

Depleted. My unrequited love seated deep inside me, so blindly!

When through happy chance I beheld two ladies fair who fixed

Unto me a coupled stare. In them I saw what with her in love I had

Fallen. No baggage nor pain. Just two happy faces. Sparkling

eyes smiling stars twinkling cheerfully in the lonely dark. To me

Only they were glad to see. Their dawn is your dusk, my rebel;

And the sickle of a thin, shy moon in my heart rises cautiously to

Await the arrival of another brilliant sunrise.

Sad sighs, I shut mine eyes. She told me they were green.

All I want is to hear her voice, if not here, perchance a dream?

Nightmares plague me, I rise uneasy. Was that her I’d seen?

Away from me she went, no matter how I tried.

To catch and hold her one last time, the purpose of this rhyme.

Here are words she may not read. Yet, to hope I cling:

I knew the risks and so did she. We took our chances.

Perhaps we’ll meet again, my love. I just pray under happier

Circumstances.

Anger, rage, lament reason

Lost, sophomore, dim-witted sage

The voice of reason, drowned out

by the din of a fit of the season.

Alas! Fury, encompass me it doth

Such as it is, loth! Despair

Hated’s broth, the taste bitter

None doth compare.

Sad beautiful bell, beligerent beam

Smiles sad seem such lonely dreams how

Tired against the beam. One spent can

Lean.

But the music plays on.

Nightmares are the hellish, black, vile hounds that nip at my heels, chasing me into the day where I dream awake, exhausted and spent and left wanting.

Life’s lofty love so fleeting flies,

Seeping passion, it deeply buried lies

The raven of my graveyard heart,

Spreads her glorious wings, sadly she sings

Soars, takes flight, joyful and free, into the glorious

And long beautiful Night.

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