Bardic Cup of Joe, poetry written by Nivedita Roy at Spillwords.com
Florencia Viadana

Bardic Cup of Joe

Bardic Cup of Joe

written by: Nivedita Roy

@Roynivi3

 

Of heavens and hues, of bewitching blues
Withering obsoletes, enticing news
I wrote all along; to settle this soul
Stuck within this bardo; scrattling and battling
To bring-in that immortally long-dead muse.
Green trees turning in pink
Sanguine cheeks ailing to sink
Darkened colossus where my eyes still blink
I acknowledged a bard on Avon’s brink.
“thy arrived to love, afore those arrows and wings;
my shrivelling verse has long been minging
to your bardic soul and methodical mind;
who mayst enter, wouldst inevitably resign”
Loosing hope with vanishing breath I sighed
remembrance of lovers lest amnesty
I longed and cried and cried and cried.
Left many on racecourse and some I had lied
for love that followed, I leaped in hastening strides.
My senile life was passing by
when again a bard sung, thudding death’s might
“love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged cupid painted blind.”
Sprung a light of faith, danced astern a Shakespeare’s show
Eyes scintillating against grim of angst and hollows.
Dazzling cheeks, tears left, to let my scars glow
How come a muse, I searched in heavens
was served in this bardo?
Shall I live or die now, to think is inviting ado
this ineffable but occurrence will resonate if I grow.
Startled to astonishment as I opened to this blow
of a summer field, to the music of birds and cracks of crows
Ran across my lover
with water in a hand, clock ticking 11o’
Heart raced, my bosom braced
I peeped through his eyes, relieved exodus; he sobbed yet though
To love was my muse, and my muse was him
I gasped lying there, lacing fingers to his cold in woe
‘Theseus’ my catharsis
‘A midsummer night’s dream’ was my rescue in deepest lows
for this love is a juncture to what’s virtual but true
Lest embracing our pens to outflow
Let’s leave for eternity, the race behind real men and women
Let’s live ab aeterno to this literature, nature’s gifted escrow
Relieving forever; for this is our bardic cup of joe.

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