Thursday, July 5, 2012

NEW: Poem (Unwelcome Season)






Unwelcomed Season

You left the door
Ajar, in a half-hearted hug
To welcome
The sauntering
Chill of winter
Inside the dorm,
Consecrated by a former
Inferno,
Inside where I lay
Reminded of the year-long
Lengths
Within each and
Every day,

You left the door,
Ajar, in a manner most
Appropriate
Of those deemed
Imbecilic by our class
Whose actions
We fail
By strict attention
To our own regard
Of one another
And the accord
With the poems
Inscribed
Onto the
Gleaming
Sword,

You left the chill
To ice
The heat
Once circled
About our reclined postures
And our upward feet,
Freezing over
The exchange
Of words
Most gentle to the ear,
The songs willed to hear,
Played by the bands
Of union
Not about our fingers;
But invisibly roped
Around our bodies
Tighter than
The clasp
Of motherhood
To a son sent forth
To manhood,
Or the emotion
Within an empty
Cup after
Having granted
Thirst
To its last,
And only pair
Of lips chapped
By conditions
Most surreal and unknown,

You my love, had left
The door open
Inside my infernal dorm
Where all had been kept warm;
Even the memories
And the items upon the walls,
Just like me
Had unusually
Assumed some peculiar form,
Unexplainable even
By the word
Given in utter declaration
By the obscured mirror,

My love let the heat
Remain about my feet
While I accompany my comfort
Seated upon this chair
With orbs floating about my hair,
Keep your presence in
The testimony of that mild inferno
So that the cold remains
Stranger to all the beauty
In the this world
We know,
And
The shooting stars
At our luck-dependent glows
So suddenly through the night, hurled
To the moon and back,

Not as you
Have now,
From spite
Inserted before your grin
 A glare I had never
Yet clinked my glass of gin
To,
For now
This is that sin
Growing at your face,
Causing the cold to
Land death bites upon my neck
And occult marks along my back,

Shy of our romance
The cold is your pretence;
Leaving the door
Ajar
To let it in
As you would
A guest of foreign descent
Arriving by horse and cart,
The murky hands of winter
To freeze my emotion,

Perhaps of the idea
That I may
Dance to the cavalier
After the
Fury of cold’s entire day,
But I assure you
From the part of me,
Most known to your eye
Such an act,
Would be the reason
I mysteriously die,

And in the wake of night,
Wrapped in the arms of desolation,
Seeking closure
Shaking about as a clown on edge,
The question why,
Would leave you demented
Upon a precarious hedge, until
You too wish to close your inquisitive eye
Fold your arms, and die.

-Raeez Jacobs

©Raeez Jacobs. 2012. All Rights Reserved



No comments:

Post a Comment