POEMS OF PASSION
Adrian Sturgess
Copyright Adrian Sturgess 2012
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Cover Art: Consuelo Parra
Brief Technical Note
If possible, I suggest that you select a font size small enough to allow poetry lines to sit properly on the page. Otherwise they may double up and become messy.
Through Shimmering Woodland Light
Through shimmering woodland light,
In Autumn,
I walked with you in a dream.
And the evening light
Dripped from the trees
And bathed your skin
In a golden hue.
Our hands were clasped,
Our hearts were one
And the beauty around us
Shone in your eyes.
In the cool still air,
I could hear you breathing
And I felt you were there.
I squeezed your hand,
But it was gone
And my head was spinning.
I woke to a cold and empty room.
And, in the milky light
Of the autumn moon,
I remembered the sound
Of your breathing.
(C.1993)
Once I Loved…
The fruit of passion, once plucked,
Full ripe and golden,
From the orchards of Aphrodite,
Trades celibate immortality
And the serene purity,
Of a cloister high under the eye of the gods,
For a journey full in the face of the storm.
The agony and the ecstasy.
The perfumed rose and the cruellest thorn.
Once, I loved so much
That, as a clenched iron fist,
My passion reached,
To caress my belovéd with a silken touch.
And, as I pulled her close for a kiss of amour,
The beating of her heart was as an icy sea,
Pounding like thunder on a distant shore.
Cruelty lies where love can touch so deep,
To leave a never-healing wound.
For the fruit of passion, though plucked at leisure,
Once plucked, must be consumed.
(C.1978)
Like a Child
I walked through Eden
And I loved the peace.
But, the walls were ancient
And I knew they would never last.
When they finally crumbled,
I ran like the wind,
Left my sanctuary,
Watched it devoured.
Felt the tears stream
Down
My
Cheeks.
I screamed into the fury
Of the oncoming tide.
But,
It never slowed, and
Still, I ran,
Still, I cried.
Back;
In some forgotten century,
I’m sure that I loved you,
Cherished the mystery,
Lifted the veil of your beauty,
Peered inside at the softer charm,
Wondered at the lofty passions,
Revealed.
Then, like a child,
Retreated to easier pastures.
To the border-calm.
And,
As the climbing rose may cling and obscure.
The cloaking weeds of time,
(Age old friend),
Render your memory
No more.
(C. 1978)
How Cruel is Time?
How cruel is time?
How cruel time is.
My inner floodgates open up
And the soft summer rains of long ago
Fall, gently against my soul.
Through the portal of time
I stare at you,
And I stare at me.
I watch us walking arm in arm
(It always seemed to be summer then).
I remember, once we lay right here,
My love for you as keen
As a needle through my heart.
And the moon was a witness to our purest love.
Well, the moon seems to shine paler now
And the sunrise was long ago.
As I sit here, peering dimly
Through the twilight,
At the girls, so young,
With their summer frocks
And summer lovers.
I feel the first chill winds of winter.
Time is cruel,
But only now,
Do I have an emotion inside of me
To match every colour,
In that beautiful,
Hypnotic,
Beckoning,
Final sunset.
(C. 1981)
The Other Day, I Saw Your Face Quite Clearly
The other day, I saw your face quite clearly.
For just one moment, nothing else was there.
I lifted my hand, as if to touch your cheek,
And as your lips began to part,
To speak, who knows what
Silent truths or lies?
The mirage slipped and for a moment,
Your sweet visage mocked
My tender soul.
Coldness squeezed my heart
And, with a gasp, I left my cosy world,
Spinning to a glacier place,
Where, wind whipped white
Frosted my moistened cheeks
And chewed at my flesh,
Until I stood, gnarled and stiff,
And the only warmth was pain,
And memory, from deep inside
My deadened husk.
From the summer garden which resides
In each of our hearts,
Flew a bird filled with boundless joy
And with its loving beak it worked,
Sculpting, with a strength beyond it’s tiny frame,
Until, exhausted, it dropped at my feet
And gave it’s body heat to the icy storm.
You Pushed Your Hand Inside My Pounding Chest
You pushed your hand
Inside my pounding chest.
I watched, transfixed and helpless,
As the dragon-light flared in your eyes,
And you plucked my living, bleeding heart,
From my raptured body.
You drew it reverently to your lips.
You sipped the warmth,
Caressed it with your icy hands
And then, with a howl,
Like a midnight wolf,
You plunged your naked Fangs
To its core,
And my eyes clouded over,
As I rolled into darkness.
First Lateral Love Poem
Tremendous, to lie under a sky of blue,
Feasting on fevered July sun,
Chirping insects and softly swishing leaves,
Wondering,
Do I?
Could I?
Can I, really love you?
A distant, whirring aeroplane
And soft music, from a radio, compete
Then blend, whilst I bask and meditate
beneath the unwavering blanket of heat
And wander lazily through my mind.
Have I ever (even briefly), loved one of my own kind?
And if so then when and where?
Well, that’s vague…
…And from the cle
arest blue sky, descends
A swirling, deadening mist,
Suffocating and refreshing.
Eyes tight shut, against the solar glare,
I relish the cool tendrils of oblivion, as they
First caress,
And then wash right over me.
Parting Kiss
The tide turns…
And, as it washes back towards the deeps,
From whence it came,
It scrabbles at a pretty pebble, lying on the shore.
But, the pebble defies all Neptune’s might,
To drag it down to the ocean floor.
And;
Far back,
In the inky black,
Through the shrouding mists
And the cloaking spray.
The rocks of fate await,
Our wooden vessel,
Of fragile hope.
(C. 1980)
When First I Saw You
When first I saw you,
Standing, framed against the moonlit night,
My past contracted, to a primal egg,
loaded, with the uncontrollable passion
lying trapped inside my shell.
It shuddered and then burst,
Into a million glittering fragments, which sailed
Towards far horizons.
I could hear the tolling of a distant bell,
Signalling the end of my twilight years.
And, as I took my first faltering steps
Through the quicksands that led to your feet,
I began to sink, for I could not believe,
That the shimmering mirage could ever be reached.
But, your radiant smile, conjuring up a breeze,
Lifted me like an autumn leaf,
And I floated into your outstretched arms.
(C. 1978)
An Angel Must Have Kissed Your Lips
When you were born,
An angel must have kissed your lips
And caused your face to take the angel’s form.
Such beauty cannot be described,
Just felt inside.
How can bones that form a face,
Be so exquisitely placed, that one
May see and love,
And yet never understand,
Wherefrom comes such beauty?
Henceforth, I cannot turn
My eyes to any other face,
Without the thought,
How plain; how commonplace.
Kate
Each minute,
Each second,
Each tiny grain of sand of time,
My thoughts, like timeless stars
Stand fixed,
My eyes
Transfixed upon the vision of your face,
Where beauty lies
And your soul lies buried in your eyes.
You are touched with an angels grace
And a child’s charm
And the pain you hide inside your breast,
Transmutes to love
And endless giving,
Of yourself.
You are blessed with inner beauty
And it stains you through,
Like a seeping dye
That creeps to your skin,
And the outer you
Is a silken screen,
Through which is seen,
The pain and compassion
Which lie within.
And, through unending time I drift,
My soul in lazy orbit
About your radiant soul.
A greater love than I have for you,
My humble heart couldn’t hold.
(C.1998)
To Kate
Other Fiction By This Author
If you enjoyed these poems, please consider leaving a favourable rating on the download website. You may also like to check out my other writings:
Metamorphine & Other Poems
Twenty two poems on a range of subjects, including: The dreams of a cat; the passing of dragons; an extraordinarily beautiful and empathic young girl; an insane artistic genius, to name but a few.
The Jester and Other Stories
(A Collection of Short Stories)
Twelve enchanting stories…
…By degrees, he became aware of the plight of a frail looking old lady, whom he perceived to be engaged in a life and death struggle with her umbrella. The wind was gusting viciously, driving great waves of sleet from one end of the square to the other. His attention was riveted to the old lady’s plight, for she was being buffeted and spun in all directions and appeared completely helpless in the face of the relentless onslaught…
Home Sweet Home
(A Novelette)
A young family falls in love with a beautiful house at the edge of a picturesque village.The house is being sold by an adorable elderly couple and the family could not be happier. But, even before the moving-in day arrives, the children discover that the house has a much darker side than they could ever have imagined.
Tread Softly In My Head
(A Novel)
A woman has gone missing and the police have a suspect. They call on the services of Dr Catherine Paradine, a young psychologist, to question him. She has the singular virtue of being a telepath with a native ability to read and project emotion. It seems, therefore, that obtaining the information the police require should be fairly simple. Presumably?
(Due for release, March 2017)