A Reflection on Conversing Mirrors
Intangible glass in tangible glass. They stand And talk of love which we only touch The beginning of, and of such We cannot hope to see the end. Inbetween, the doppelgangers Grace their crystal-set creators, Each as real as next, each Farther off, smaller Than that before, Until there is none. I dreamt last night I almost touched The end, but I ~~~~~
Ou La Mort
I was told to, bar what they sing, Squeeze my longings to a point That pins the edge. Of nothing I speak of; of nothing I take Everything that is left to behold. Such is taken by eyes that cease To shun the dead horizon, The curve that mocks sanity In its (im)purest form: God of the civil razor, he laughs Before the dawn, his daily draw Of red stench, common and quick, Laced with the cheers of men And children, dying to see Life pass a terrific door and flee.
My name is on a program. Everything exploded: my longings, My lungs against the zeal of men Who urged me (in a sense) to be With and one of theirs. They cry, Liberté, égalité, fraternité!, and I Bellow out of mind, but sane, Ou la mort!, and die. ~~~~~
Omega is Lovely ~“I am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last.”
Omega! The grand and glorious End of beginnings and end of ends– Behold! It stands victorious; Grinning from Alpha to self, it bends Little sis Omicron in dashing form And carries Pi by infinite grace! Omega whittles Iota to whit And balances Delta to stunning lukewarm! The soul of Psi is wholly lit And buried is Theta, by lethal embrace Of self (not Omega; Omega is lovely And endlessly fair), and golden is Phi– And yet, I should honestly doubt as to whether Omega is endless or ends altogether.
~~~~~
Garden Study of the Vickers Children ~John Singer Sargent
Stem-tall, pretty in white And black, they take hold Of green. Things that fill eyes Of earth, ever heaven-inclined, Reach softly throughout The eyes that hold them, Still growing. They look about To other lovely things, or down, Enraptured. Beneath, Life spans boundlessly. ~~~~~~~
Brief Bio: My name is Neil Hester. I like poetry. I wear briefs, but not bios. Well, boxer briefs. Though I am “bio”logical. And “brief”logical, come to think of it. Anyhow..
Visit Neil's blog at http://laevanesce.blogspot.com/
Your Talkback on this Story