Orpheus

It is late

and I await my Orpheus.

The night is heavy in silence.

Darkness overwhelms.

In despair I imagine

your lyre calling to me.

 

I am ashamed.

Who am I to be rescued?

Here I stand

Jasmine in my garden,

wine fills my glass

and yet I thirst.

 

I have forgotten the Spring

and the gold of the sky

ablaze with clandestine desire.

 

I cannot recall the blue shadow of morning

nor the scent of burning fire

the whispered breaths of poetry.

 

My emptiness is vast.

I have lost the soft touch of your kiss.

Through the closing door,

I see the last slivers of light.

 

It is late.

I lay trembling

desperate for your song.

Reviews

[Mr. Deft Diction]

Just to let you know....RILKE is one of my favorite poets, EVER!!! Beautifully done....classic and just.

Definitely made my day when I saw this.

Peace

[lost girl]

completion in desperation is always the part of the night I dread...the waiting....the neediness....so vulnerable...so open...so seductive that it makes paleness blush. ...looking into that mirror ...feeling the fingertips from the other side:}

[Tim McGovern]

Beautiful imagery. Tender, vulnerable, bare.
" In despair I imagine your lyre calling to me"
I keep looking for a way to make this read as though you would believe lies to have the past back, or that it was all lies back then and you'd gladly have them again.
It may just be me, but that word lyre/ liar keeps prodding my brain.

A wonderful glimpse of the woman inside the poetry

Thank you
Namaste'
Tim