Post by ladylinda on Jun 4, 2015 17:26:16 GMT -5
Mountaineering
1)
I mount
the mountain,
surmounting
my morning of mourning,
instead I count
the steps I cut in the ice,
the frozen crystal fountain,
stoppered by cold, amounting
to a stern warning
which I of course ignore,
bent on scaling the peak
to reach the distant shore,
however bleak
2)
battered, shattered,
glaciers carving graffiti on your bones,
torn and tattered,
winds through clefts echoing your moans,
your cold lips pressing
(without the suspicion of blessing)
upon my own,
yearning to find my home
3)
only a heartbeat away from heaven,
in this thin air I climb, I clamber
in search of the spirit's eternal leaven
to sweep away the accumulated lumber
that lies, dessicated, heavy on my soul,
weighing me down with its burden of memory,
your crags beckon me on like a sail
wafting me up to a distant granary
4)
Olympus, Sinai, Horeb, Parnassus,
towering symbols of perfection,
the night I spent at Cader Idris -
scorning the lure of putrefaction -
made me a poet. Your ravines shelter and hug
my coldness with your frosty overcoat,
till I am warm and snug,
prophetic songs rising within my throat
5)
only a large hill,
a mound of earth, measurable in fact,
yet I am sensible
that on a mountain all seems bigger; smacked
by your boisterous kisses, I ascend,
longing for heart's desire at journey's end
6)
the passion of your resistance!
for all your wilful ways
I win my path upwards towards your summit.
it isn't sheer persistence
leads me on to see the sun's pallid blaze
from your peaks, makes me risk the threat I might plummet
for all the crampons, ice-picks, all the years
I've fought with mountains, blinking back the tears
when the snow blinds you, knowing my endeavour
like you, to stand outside illusory time,
bid farewell to the shadow puppet's mime
and be at one with the true, the pure, forever
1)
I mount
the mountain,
surmounting
my morning of mourning,
instead I count
the steps I cut in the ice,
the frozen crystal fountain,
stoppered by cold, amounting
to a stern warning
which I of course ignore,
bent on scaling the peak
to reach the distant shore,
however bleak
2)
battered, shattered,
glaciers carving graffiti on your bones,
torn and tattered,
winds through clefts echoing your moans,
your cold lips pressing
(without the suspicion of blessing)
upon my own,
yearning to find my home
3)
only a heartbeat away from heaven,
in this thin air I climb, I clamber
in search of the spirit's eternal leaven
to sweep away the accumulated lumber
that lies, dessicated, heavy on my soul,
weighing me down with its burden of memory,
your crags beckon me on like a sail
wafting me up to a distant granary
4)
Olympus, Sinai, Horeb, Parnassus,
towering symbols of perfection,
the night I spent at Cader Idris -
scorning the lure of putrefaction -
made me a poet. Your ravines shelter and hug
my coldness with your frosty overcoat,
till I am warm and snug,
prophetic songs rising within my throat
5)
only a large hill,
a mound of earth, measurable in fact,
yet I am sensible
that on a mountain all seems bigger; smacked
by your boisterous kisses, I ascend,
longing for heart's desire at journey's end
6)
the passion of your resistance!
for all your wilful ways
I win my path upwards towards your summit.
it isn't sheer persistence
leads me on to see the sun's pallid blaze
from your peaks, makes me risk the threat I might plummet
for all the crampons, ice-picks, all the years
I've fought with mountains, blinking back the tears
when the snow blinds you, knowing my endeavour
like you, to stand outside illusory time,
bid farewell to the shadow puppet's mime
and be at one with the true, the pure, forever