An Old Journal Entry: Lost in Poetry

December 14, 1999

I have been reading from the collected works of Edgar Allen Poe.  He uses great language–like remarking upon the virtues of a lady whose singular countenance imbues none other than radiance and charm.  He tells wonderful stories, describing at length the fancies that play upon the mind with as much vivacity as the actual events which gave them rise.  I enjoy his poetry as well.  His poem, For Annie, rolls off the tongue fluidly enough that it deserves to be read aloud.  I feel such sweet serenity as he reclines in her arms:

My tantalized spirit
Here blandly reposes,
Forgetting, or never
Regretting, its roses—
Its old agitations
Of myrtles and roses:

For now, while so quietly
Lying, it fancies
A holier odor
About it, of pansies—
A rosemary odor,
Commingled with pansies—
With rue and the beautiful
Puritan pansies.

And so it lies happily,
Bathing in many
A dream of the truth
And the beauty of Annie—
Drowned in a bath
Of the tresses of Annie.

She tenderly kissed me,
She fondly caressed,
And then I fell gently
To sleep on her breast—
Deeply to sleep
From the heaven of her breast.

But my heart it is brighter
Than all of the many
Stars in the sky,
For it sparkles with Annie—
It glows with the light
Of the love of my Annie—
With the thought of the light
Of the eyes of my Annie.

I have, on several cherished occasions
Lain in the arms of the one I love
Holding her sweetly, and nestling my face
Into her nape and the tresses that gracefully
Drape about its smooth, alabaster curve.

Time has not the briefest hold upon my thoughts
As I inhale deeply the faint scent of her locks
Brushing ever so lightly upon her cheekbone
With my trembling lips and tip of my nose.

O, sweet and heavenly moments are these
When time releases its tenacious grip on me
And I submit myself completely to the warm, soft,
Feminine radiance flooding my senses.

I take serene pleasure in taking her hand
The smooth neatness of line and form
So unlike mine, whose bold knuckles and veins
Protrude in aggressive topography.

Her butterfly kisses alight upon my eyelids
And slowly flutter across my cheek
I close my eyes, her presence is so absorbing
And I can no longer distinguish between
The variety of her touch, her breath,
Or even her loving gaze upon my visage.

I am consumed by lightness of thought.
A quieted mind, tenderly eased into repose.
I am still.  All is quiet, save light shifts of weight
And the brush of the clothing separating our skin
Clothing which, in its restrained tension
Provides us both with a layer of security
And freedom from expectation and scripted action.

The moment is unbroken as the buttons stay fastened
But the parts exposed to air–ears, wrists, foreheads–
Become transformed from the realm of the ordinary
To a bed of wildflowers,
A view overlooking a panoramic landscape,
A tray of fresh strawberries.

The warmth of another living soul so near!
We have willfully chosen to release the barriers
Separating love from acquainted touch,
Desire from friendly gesture,
Mutuality from loneliness.

The radiating heat tingles on my skin
I feel flush with contentment and safety
Nothing interrupts our silent closeness,
Patience is a shared virtue.

No thought to separate–or continue–crosses our minds.
Time is abolished and we are acutely alive in its arrest.
Soon, very soon, it will overcome our wills once again.

But now is still all we can perceive
For this blessed, pure moment…
So again I lower my head and bathe
In the beauty of her tresses.

Advertisements

About zyll9

Here are some topics that have recently interested me: ♥ The Enigma Machine ♦ Morse Code ♣ Fluorescent minerals ♠ The Long scale and the word milliard ♥ The 21 Spanish Missions of California and El Camino Real ♦ 3D Printing and browsing items on Thingiverse.com ♣ Le Mans and the 1955 winner, a Jaguar D-Type ♠ My huge King James Version Bible, which was printed at least before 1893 ♥ Hyperinflation paper money ♦ Silver certificates vs. United States Notes vs. Federal Reserve Notes ♣ Old Stereoscopic photographs and anaglyphs ♠ Pyramids, such as those at Giza in Egypt and at Teotihuacan in Mexico ♥ The special characters produced using ALT-Codes (ie., Alt 14 makes this: ♫) ♦ Old-style numerals written above and below the line by using Text Figures ♣ The long-s which looks like an "f" and went extinct around 1810. like "Congreß" ♠ How to play chess better, because I really suck at it ♥ Animated gifs of funny movie clips ♦ Archaeoastronomy ♣ Hiking the John Muir Trail ♠ Sighting comets ♥ My DIY Musicbox
This entry was posted in Old Journals 1997-2002 and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s