The Marschallin: ‘Sometimes, in the small hours…’

Your ear like a shell, cream-coloured

And tinged with a flush

Around the smooth edges,

Almost transparent

In the early sun.


Your skin like finest sands

With the dawn upon them.

A curling lock of your dark hair,

Lank on your forehead,

Moist with the night.


Your neck proudly arched,

Like a harp’s harmonic curve,

Strings echoing a chiming clock.

And when I rest my head on

Your youthful breast

I hear the faint sound of passing time…



Published in: on April 22, 2013 at 2:16 am  Comments (2)  
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Triad: Three Messengers

Ambition to acquire knowledge.

Contemplation to gain understanding.

A fool’s wit to keep reality under construction.


Published in: on April 13, 2013 at 1:37 am  Comments (2)  
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