A Song of Songs Into Olding
Intense clangor—the joyous movement
of rod and belle
of the brash and the subtle
caroled with rubied passion,
they ring with joy their supple skin.
Fertile in consummation, in oneness
these two-to-one
jewel their future
days with melodic movement.
Appealing with rings that couple gold,
One circle--
unending,
endless,
eternal,
They spangle their handed time with madrigals.
The chiming lyric of the sapphire
adorns their sensuous
moments.
Embellishments of gemmed time
lay close
jeweled bare on their skin,
on circular strands
Down
the
years
Turning irritants, trials, and struggles
Into pure spheres
of visioned music,
Shimmering pearls of perseverance
(Unlike the coldness
of the bland flatness,
the flaked shale
of many a marriage's mediocrity).
He and she chime in their aging,
wrinkled skin, touched creases,
caressed emeralds of cherishing,
lasting into the soft opalness
of Olding, their souls flow
warm with mellifluous serenity.
Precious
the seasoned-round
romancing,
the ringing, rubied
Song of songs.
—Daniel Wilcox
First pub. in Word Catalyst Magazine
--
The Essence of Software
Why is the metal-cased T.V.
fine, structurally sound,
but my loving wife of 60 years
Slowly...
dies?
What repair man can I call
to have her tinkered with
so her inside will remain vibrant and joyous--
that we might share another year together
in our odyssey
through this hard land?
Why isn't there a warranty for her?
"Guaranteed, Call 1-700, Zenith Lasts!"
Already I picture the scene,
the day coming soon like a tsunami
that will roar through our lives
and
drown us all.
I will stand
Lone
without
an umbrella
in the soft, vicious rain
and stare
down
at the immaculate metal coffin
that will endure for centuries—stainless steel, you know—while
my wife
's corny word play
(like the time she pretended
a hot dog was a cigar)
will be gone.
How obscene...the coffin will gleam with color--
the little blue angels
in the panels and the chrome handles—long lasting like the T.V.
But
my wife will not
endure,
not even appear in syndication.
And the only reruns
will be in my head
until my own show
is cancelled.
The T.V. will remain--
Well, maybe not...
It too will wear out
and be dumped
into some landfill
to corrode and rust
to oblivion.
Is there Netflix for humans?
--Daniel Wilcox
First pub. in La Fenetre, France
--
Their Beekeeper's Moon
Their beekeeper’s moon lasted only several phases
of love’s eternal sphere;
too quickly the warm honey of fired passion,
the illumined glow...
—all those amorous-vesseled words
emptied,
no wined days
or champagne-giddy nights
only
pain-flask-jarring
loss;
then
broken with dishearten
their lacerated lives
scattered into
loose shards,
glass-chasmed
and w i d e n e d---
a barren landfill
of middle years,
their debris-ed evenings...
his wandering looks,
her sidetracked eyes,
their mangled conversation
meant
seemingly
no keeper's hope remained. No communion...
However
graciously in elder-oaked age,
old scars healed and new buds came,
a fresh phase of shine
shone in their faces,
the nectared honey of freely choosing
chosen love
—their lasting
passion.
--Daniel Wilcox
First pub. in the The Greensilk Journal
--
Ever After
Waking up close to you,
Your ‘presence’ covered in our morning’s lips caress
Like the shimmering, luminous night's seal to a sleeping princess,
We’re warm, luscious honeycombed lovers,
Deeply treasured in life-long mellifluous romance
Truly our cherished delicious passion,
Chorus
And the moonlight on the water,
Moon shimmering on the lake
And the stars shine in our room
Through time to time to time
Cherishing
Our heart-welling felt vow
Spectrumed rainbow of our arrowed heart,
Protecting our intertwined soul and body
Not tempted, nor wayward
But delivered from every
Disloyal fragmented moment.
For an eternal now choosing
True love so royal streamed
From time to time to time,
Through the first falling sky-up
On mount passion's verdant peak
High above the desert of briefness,
We begin newly blessed, giving life;
Chorus
And the moonlight on the water,
Moon shimmering on the lake,
And the stars shine in our room
From time to time to time
With the snapping of the corked top
And the delicious splash
Of champagne on a sun-covered table,
And the burgundy bottle never empties
And our two communing glasses shine,
In the shimmering, luminous union
And the moon lights our room
And the stars’ shine on the lake
On our wedding night over and over and over,
You all in white lace
Warm in my embrace
And ever after.
By Daniel Wilcox
First pub., different form
in The Shine Journal,
and in selah river
In the Light of commitment, kiss your true love,
Daniel Wilcox
Posted by Daniel Wilcox at 7:25 AM
Labels: caring, close, commitment, covenant, death, emeralds, eternal, gold, joy, Love, marriage, mediocrity, old age, passion, perseverance, romance, sensuous, song of songs, struggles
Intense clangor—the joyous movement
of rod and belle
of the brash and the subtle
caroled with rubied passion,
they ring with joy their supple skin.
Fertile in consummation, in oneness
these two-to-one
jewel their future
days with melodic movement.
Appealing with rings that couple gold,
One circle--
unending,
endless,
eternal,
They spangle their handed time with madrigals.
The chiming lyric of the sapphire
adorns their sensuous
moments.
Embellishments of gemmed time
lay close
jeweled bare on their skin,
on circular strands
Down
the
years
Turning irritants, trials, and struggles
Into pure spheres
of visioned music,
Shimmering pearls of perseverance
(Unlike the coldness
of the bland flatness,
the flaked shale
of many a marriage's mediocrity).
He and she chime in their aging,
wrinkled skin, touched creases,
caressed emeralds of cherishing,
lasting into the soft opalness
of Olding, their souls flow
warm with mellifluous serenity.
Precious
the seasoned-round
romancing,
the ringing, rubied
Song of songs.
—Daniel Wilcox
First pub. in Word Catalyst Magazine
--
The Essence of Software
Why is the metal-cased T.V.
fine, structurally sound,
but my loving wife of 60 years
Slowly...
dies?
What repair man can I call
to have her tinkered with
so her inside will remain vibrant and joyous--
that we might share another year together
in our odyssey
through this hard land?
Why isn't there a warranty for her?
"Guaranteed, Call 1-700, Zenith Lasts!"
Already I picture the scene,
the day coming soon like a tsunami
that will roar through our lives
and
drown us all.
I will stand
Lone
without
an umbrella
in the soft, vicious rain
and stare
down
at the immaculate metal coffin
that will endure for centuries—stainless steel, you know—while
my wife
's corny word play
(like the time she pretended
a hot dog was a cigar)
will be gone.
How obscene...the coffin will gleam with color--
the little blue angels
in the panels and the chrome handles—long lasting like the T.V.
But
my wife will not
endure,
not even appear in syndication.
And the only reruns
will be in my head
until my own show
is cancelled.
The T.V. will remain--
Well, maybe not...
It too will wear out
and be dumped
into some landfill
to corrode and rust
to oblivion.
Is there Netflix for humans?
--Daniel Wilcox
First pub. in La Fenetre, France
--
Their Beekeeper's Moon
Their beekeeper’s moon lasted only several phases
of love’s eternal sphere;
too quickly the warm honey of fired passion,
the illumined glow...
—all those amorous-vesseled words
emptied,
no wined days
or champagne-giddy nights
only
pain-flask-jarring
loss;
then
broken with dishearten
their lacerated lives
scattered into
loose shards,
glass-chasmed
and w i d e n e d---
a barren landfill
of middle years,
their debris-ed evenings...
his wandering looks,
her sidetracked eyes,
their mangled conversation
meant
seemingly
no keeper's hope remained. No communion...
However
graciously in elder-oaked age,
old scars healed and new buds came,
a fresh phase of shine
shone in their faces,
the nectared honey of freely choosing
chosen love
—their lasting
passion.
--Daniel Wilcox
First pub. in the The Greensilk Journal
--
Ever After
Waking up close to you,
Your ‘presence’ covered in our morning’s lips caress
Like the shimmering, luminous night's seal to a sleeping princess,
We’re warm, luscious honeycombed lovers,
Deeply treasured in life-long mellifluous romance
Truly our cherished delicious passion,
Chorus
And the moonlight on the water,
Moon shimmering on the lake
And the stars shine in our room
Through time to time to time
Cherishing
Our heart-welling felt vow
Spectrumed rainbow of our arrowed heart,
Protecting our intertwined soul and body
Not tempted, nor wayward
But delivered from every
Disloyal fragmented moment.
For an eternal now choosing
True love so royal streamed
From time to time to time,
Through the first falling sky-up
On mount passion's verdant peak
High above the desert of briefness,
We begin newly blessed, giving life;
Chorus
And the moonlight on the water,
Moon shimmering on the lake,
And the stars shine in our room
From time to time to time
With the snapping of the corked top
And the delicious splash
Of champagne on a sun-covered table,
And the burgundy bottle never empties
And our two communing glasses shine,
In the shimmering, luminous union
And the moon lights our room
And the stars’ shine on the lake
On our wedding night over and over and over,
You all in white lace
Warm in my embrace
And ever after.
By Daniel Wilcox
First pub., different form
in The Shine Journal,
and in selah river
In the Light of commitment, kiss your true love,
Daniel Wilcox
Posted by Daniel Wilcox at 7:25 AM
Labels: caring, close, commitment, covenant, death, emeralds, eternal, gold, joy, Love, marriage, mediocrity, old age, passion, perseverance, romance, sensuous, song of songs, struggles
