Poetry 033: Live!

“Let us make man in our own image
and in our likeness form him.”

Perfected yet dead; still he lay
void, recent from the deep.
No thoughts emerged nor receded
None pleaded for victory, none defeated,
And none rebelled: He was balanced,
inanimate, formed but still,
alive but perfectly dead.

Then breath, hovering over the deep;
the same that churned him from the mound,
approached from steep heaven
and un-barrened sea to seep
Awakening earth from death to sleep.

Inhaling, he embraced life – the gift;
drifting into the breath that once crept
into the crypt – fleshy heart at the mercy
of fleshed earth – made first animate.

Before him he saw his naked arms,
with naked eyes saw naked feet,
felt naked air be drafted in
and blown on naked skin.
Untamed wind within,
unchained wind without,
both whispering “Live!”

© Denis Adide 2012

 

Poetry 024: Snowdon

Today the sun shines
And I can see the roof
Of our solitary mount.

I kiss its merry heights,
Pivots for our memories
And joints for our delights.

I see the snow that
Like fresh water-lilies
Speaks of our love

The hillside meadows
Peppered with sheep
Like spots of time,

And in a daydream,
leap from the cliffs
And soar.

For that brief moment,
Heaven bows,
And I am not alone

The wind whispers in
Scents fresh, almost old,
Never forgotten,

And the little droplets
Ferried by the breeze
Soft upon my naked skin

Feel like a touch
Faint and free, almost cold,
Not forgotten

It’s like your warmth floats
With me, over the downs
Toward the open sea

From whose horizon
The assailing clouds rise
Barring me from the sunset.

When for night again,
You away, and I –
To silence – return

From the invisible hills,
With curtains drawn to sleep,
Missing you.

© Denis Adide 2010