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Meta
Tag Archives: love
Awe
To walk in fields of blue lightning, to see with a child’s snow-driven eyes, is to receive awe and grace; the tasseled forks of God’s split tongues and blonde fuzzies coercing you to savor.
Hermit
Hermit, of singed tassels, have you raised hell quietly deeply within, to better discern and negotiate the holy seethe of flames? Have your voices, and their cold blue chains, grown numinous through years of patient greening? Hermit, how wonderful that … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged acceptance, compassion, devotion, golden silence, Heaven, hell, Hermit, John Biscello, love, poem, Poetry, serenity, silence, singed, solitary, solitude, spirit, tassel
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Perigee
Exultant, by virtue of perigee, fools and moons forever dance and flirt on the candied rim of eternity.
Scorpion
Scorpion, who fears thy immortal symmetry imprinted upon a lidless void? Who dares tread upon your inky black trail of shelled pearls and amative resin? You, Sex, You, Death, You, primordial sleep and whipped wake of Pan’s ancient cloven song– … Continue reading
Crayfish
Crayfish, obsidian, antennaed, slick with frothy scum as you crawl up from the brackish rim of a forgotten pond, my heart recalls you as an ancient mystic, an oracle of medicine, who needs not license nor recognition to exact vital … Continue reading
Orphans
In all the children’s mouths, so many screamless nights amounting to timelocked dreams, adopting a feverish hue and deep freeze all at once, the birth of orphans who wander in fugues, haunting their own lives, seeking blessed reunion with who … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged cave, cave-ins, creativity, dreams, exiles, faith, John Biscello, love, mercy, orphans, pain, poem, Poetry, rebirth, screamless, transcendence
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Supple
By exacting standards, I have held myself aloft, bated, the invocation to surrender, in bald tatters, now tags me to move, in rapport with grace, into suppler imaginings.
Wisp
Cherish, the tenuous fibers of stray leavings, angels lean on felled hearts to consecrate the wisps of ephemera.
Rare
This is how I grieve– words, pearlescent to glean, and bare, poured, like so much light, on petals bruised by touch and Beauty rare.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Beauty, flower, grief, John Biscello, love, pearlescent, petals, poem, Poetry, sadness, sorrow, tears, touch, weeping, words, writing
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Shudder
By commonest savor, our tongues, twinned, have plunged brightly into moist nameless bits; our small histories rapt in lidless shudder.
John Biscello 