The Cleopatra Tales 1: Divine Union – Hieros Gamos

The Cleopatra Tales 1: Divine Union – Hieros Gamos

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Unfolding mysteries spin

Unfolding mysteries spin

11 July 2016

 

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Three fingers

Woven in the skin

Define me

Pink contours

The flash seen without detours

As the heat rises

 

Still glances

As the ship glides on

The icebergs

Illusion

Above and below now bound

The law of fusion

 

Hot and cold

Term me dynamics

Balance point

Zero stance

Two heads one bodied soul joint

As the wizards dance

 

Dead freedom

Measures of the sleep

Company

False we keep

Lulling us into the fields

Where orphans will weep

 

Writhing frames

The wilting will slain

Our bodies

Fallen stars

Mummies preserved where we’d lain

Tucked into the folds

 

Death akin

To ecstasies’ flames

Subtle grounds

My mind hounds

Unfolding mysteries spin

A blue heart to win

 

Reading of the poem: 

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Uloin – Tenhi

Näkin Laulu (1997 version) – Tenhi

Haaksi – Tenhi

 

Spirit me the Light

Spirit me the Light

2 July 2016

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Expunging

Sleep comes to an end

Followed trend

Breaking down

The depths of Earth retrieving

Jewels of the Crown

 

We are One

Realisation

Like the sun

Now dawning

Upon latecomers yawning

As they stretch out slow

 

We surpass

The high and the low

Battlefields

Abandoned

The will guided by the Heart

New cycle to start

 

The waters

Flooding the wastelands

Cover hues

Of rainbows

They sparkle through morrows’ dues

Paid through the brainwaves

 

Freed the slaves

Their chains dissolving

Heated pit

Raging fires

The burning flames of desires

Prometheus lit

 

The mother

Divine feminine

She calls sweet

Three to meet

The wings carry us in flight

Spirit me the Light

 

Reading of the poem: 

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Gates of Morpheus – Amethystium

Break of Dawn – Amethystium

Silken Twine- Amethystium

 

Come play Hyde and see

Come play Hyde and see

22 April 2016

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Do you sleep

Within waking Times

Unknown bliss

Slithering

Away from your withered hands

The shy bloom destroyed

 

Do you sleep

Between walking ghosts

They speak night

Bleak darkness

On the other side of light

They draw black patterns

 

Do you yawn

Waking up tedium

Tight eyelids

Ignorance

Sewn against the remembrance

For what the soul yearns

 

Do you yawn

Your emblem boredom

As world skids

Out of reach

Reality’s dead fragrance

Reeks morals you preach

 

Do you know

Pulling the carpet

Unsettles

Your kingdom

The smoke loses its high fires

Seeking a new Gray

 

Do you know

You see then forget

Amnesia

Forever

Your mind’s chosen Sisyphus

Come play Hyde and see

 

Reading of the poem: 

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Truman Sleeps – Philip Glass

Gone – Philip Glass

The Hours – Philip Glass

The Kiss – Philip Glass

The Light – Philip Glass

The Illusionist Suite – Philip Glass

 

De silence gouffre béant faire de moi endormie / From silence gaping chasm to make me a sleeper

De silence gouffre béant faire de moi endormie

(occitan sonnet. Translation into a free sonnet in English below the French version and here)

12 March 2016

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Les paroles vainement dites sont les sceaux des tombeaux

Où lys et pissenlits reposent doux face à face

Gloires et splendeur dédites orientent mes oripeaux

Cœur ouvert de délits ne connaît point disgrâce

 

Contez-moi les mérites d’arborer les lambeaux

Je vous froisserai les plis de vérités d’une race

Servitudes émérites les portant en flambeaux

Pour des ventres bien remplis sous des cœurs de rapace

 

Je n’ai eu de seigneur que la douceur des prés

Bleu de vastes océans abritant mes douces nuits

Je nais, hue ! on saigne heure en sang rouge des cyprès

 

Voyez en mon céans les battements de bleue vie

Il bat en mon cœur fleur violette qu’on tait exprès

De silence gouffre béant faire de moi endormie

 

Lecture du poème: 

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From silence gaping chasm to make me a sleeper

(sonnet in English translated from an Occitan sonnet written originally in French above this English version or here)

12 March 2016

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The words said in vain are the seals of tombs

Where lilies and dandelions lay soft face to face

Glory and splendor denied orient my tatters

Open heart of offenses knows never the disgrace

 

Tell me about the merits of brandishing shreds

I will crease for you the folds of the truths of a race

Distinguished slaveries, carrying them like torches

For well-filled bellies under raptor hearts

 

I had no other master than the gentle meadows

Blue of vast oceans sheltering my sweet nights

I am born, boo! They bleed the hour in red blood of cypresses

 

Look hither within me the beating of blue life

In my heart beats a flower violet that they silence willfully

From silence gaping chasm to make me a sleeper

 

Reading of the poem: 

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“Tristes apprêts, pâles flambeaux” (Rameau) Véronique Gens

Lieux funestes – Rameau/Dardanus (Paul Agnew)

Peuples heureux, Act 2 – Rameau (Les Festes de Polymnie)

‘Je cours flechir un dieu severe’ – Rameau (Les Boreades with Paul Agnew)

The Art of saving a Life – Behind the Scenes (Alexia Sinclair)

Kissed by the Moon – Alexia Sinclair

Whispers in the Woods – Alexia Sinclair

 

Blood in the moonlight

Blood in the moonlight

12 December 2015

 

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The dark rasping sounds

Heaving darkness closing in

Respite in sleep’s loss

 

The night spoke whispers

Into the Heart of sorrow

Laying in dungeons

 

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Irresolute paths

Between truths and concealments

Roads to perdition

 

Sleeveless in winter

For Heart to wear but in cloak

Through blistering storms

 

Crystal clear ripples

She forged a way in waters

Through liquid portals

 

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Doors closed tight across

Waning memories that lurched

From bowels to throat

 

Shutting out the screams

Hell’s kitchen let out oozing

Blood in the moonlight

 

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Love’s Way – Human Drama

I Bleed For You – Human Drama

A Million Years- Human Drama

Oh My Love – Human Drama

 

 

 

It will rain

It will rain

12 December 2015

 

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She looked at his face, a picture of an angel. His hands against the teddy bear she had put next to him. It always made her catch her breath when she saw him so serene and peaceful in his sleep.

He was almost always such a naughty boy when he was awake and she had to scold him often, too often perhaps.

She kneeled down and grazed his cheek with her lips. It did not feel quite right. She stared at him. Something welled inside her as her friends propped her up.

She looked down at him, the teddy bear almost his size squeezed into the carving out of the pine tree she had chosen. She thought it should have been her, more white hairs on her head and many more wrinkles to her face lying in a larger sized coffin with him a young man looking down at her, happy she had lived such a full life though sad to let her go.

It was not meant to be this way. Her throat was still parched, all throughout her an aching fire moved but the tears would not come, not yet.

Tomorrow or someday, sometime it will rain but today there was only the fire and the desolation

 

 

It will rain – Bruno Mars

 

FRIDAY FICTION with RONOVAN WRITES Prompt Challenge #5

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