samielloome

[samielloome]

Fornever

I never bought you flowers I am as sure Of this as I am sure that the buds Of the flowers I never gave you Bloom still in their fields Towards the sun that is always rolling And the earth that watched As I came empty handed to your door Every time And I never saved you I know What it is like not to know what it is like Not to share in your pain And transmute those stitches into a love Always arriving and always initiate And never master and never slave Of the things that force people To kill flowers for a love that is Always dying I never asked you to dance I imagine It was because I imagined you did not like to Or that it was easier for me to hide I couldn’t Just like I couldn’t swim to you When you most needed me in that ocean That is ever dreadful and hopeless and dark And which robbed your heart of all hope And all love I never became anything worth hoping for I loved As much as I could love even in my obtuse Struggles to overcome a fear so powerful And so invisible and so self-made it smelled of me Who was always empty-handed and who could not dance Or swim or breathe underwater when you most Needed me to be that sailor I once sung about Forever in past tense

-- Samiel Loome, from “All the Lives I Lost with Erato” (2019)

[samielloome]

If you ever wonder...

If you ever wonder  By the self-same flesh of what Once was kindled from a simple dress Unhooked, perplexed, hard-headed To exist undone  At your request, Yes. Yes, between that moment and this one, Despite the years, only seconds passed, As time ran only when it ran between us, And through us, And scared of being blown out of existence By the gravity of our breaths, Yes. Yes, you and the stars colliding; Yes all the illogical distance of dead dust Traveling for eyes that no longer waste their time Searching for home. Yes. Yes, then and now, but no longer. Yes, because denying there was once  A dance between our spirits would be false; Our bodies danced aware and unaware, Torn from their habitual places like flowers from the wild; I saw in you my summer, And left you with the snow. You did the same, Yes. If you ever wonder, By the self-same flesh that broke When you inhaled your sorrows From another’s smoke - Yes. --Samiel Loome, from “All the Nights I Dreamt with Erato”

#lost love #poem #poetry #love #loving #unrequitted #poesy #samiel loome #samiel #loome #past love #past #love poetry #love poems #sex #erotic #eros #amor #amore #amour #english

[samielloome]

At dawn, bees and flowers...

At dawn, bees and flowers Sang against the wind, separate; By morning, they met with joy, As with a flight of infancy. Noon, it is noon, and now, Bees and flowers have danced For long enough - Petals and pollen have fallen and mixed; Hybrids have emerged and merged; And the sun smiles on them all. So do I sit by a tree, under its shade, Existent only to myself, who is observing. I watch the bees come and go, unthinking And flowers lend their life To other flowers, unthought; And I sit here, alone, Pensive against the sun and time, And the solitude of loves forgotten.

--Samiel Loome, from Notes from a Sanded Drawer

#poem #love #life #passage of time #time passing #time #living #clocks #sun #day #relationships #ideals #forgotten love #beloved #poetry #poesy #samiel loome #poems

[samielloome]

Night

I am in Love with Silence And the Night - The moon, the stars, the jealous morning light; Steeping an anchor into abysses dark, I strive to leave blind darkness with a mark. And you, perhaps, slave to th’ electric bright, Are so in love with noise, With sounds and light - You cannot risk to know the silence of night, Or feel your breath against the solitude of mine. I am in love with warmth, And lies dissolved - Between the arduous moments of the day; After the stolen ecstasies we claim, Limbs, lips, sex on sex; fire and flame. I am in Love with Silence And the Night - Giving you moons and stars, without a trace of light; So have you fled out of the darkness into day - Taking my anchor with you on your way. --Samiel Loome, from All the Nights I Spent with Erato

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[samielloome]

Why I Am No Poet

The poet cannot simply rhyme Or peddle pointless rhythms into words. The poet cannot simply float Among the silences, like seaweed; Or claim to love a woman, flawless as a girl. The poet cannot sing of lonely hearts, Or watch the sunset and escape into despair - A poet is a one who does not fear To look into the sun, and be blinded there. Love poems? What of them? Give me your heart, my dear, and I shall renounce the very fruit of Venus; Who needs to borrow beauty from the gods, if you are with me? Eve’s? Eve’s, too, shall I relinquish; I do not care to learn of life or death, If that should mean I must know love without you. Oh! but do not pine, my love; I have not known another with this heart, For eyes like yours be tantamount to jewels of other worlds, Gleaned from the dreams of gods, and like the stars Should never have to weep before the light of day, though it conceal them.

That? That’s not a poem, but a group of pretty words. The poet cannot simply saddle Hymns onto the hearts of men; False flowers onto the minds of women. Epic? The modern word abused? Cast from the Iron Horn, the voice of Tumet rang, Sweeping the mighty warriors into the villain’s fang; Ptahammet raised his hammer; Eterut sprang her bow, Setting the land afire, o’erneath the bloodied snow. Uturah, Tumet carries into the Drifting Wood; A child of the dying Orna; last vein of the sisterhood. Eterut, stayed with anger, into her arrows bound The bane of her mother’s kinfolk, that fell the Turic Hound. Ptahammet furnished weapons no other Turan could, Fused with the blood of Atrik, wisest Turan sage. Far from the Drifting Wood, Uturah safely flown, Tumet unsheathes Harat’a; Eterut shields her throne. Guarded by Orna’s shadow, Eterut’s venom fails, Thus do we sing of Tumet, and drink to Turan tales. Again, I say, The poet cannot simply rhyme, Or hang from the pretty sound of words; One line may easily breach the harlot’s blossom, But only truth will heaven’s gardens breach.   --Samiel Loome, from All the Nights I Spent with Erato

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[samielloome]

The Flower Rises Last

Drum! says the earth. Drum! The flower rises last. First, you must explode From the nothingness of being; First, you must know what it is like To be ignored. You must work like a slave to the elements; Give away what is yet not yours, What you have taken, what you have absorbed. Drum! says the earth. Drum! The flower rises last. It is cold and your are naked; It is wet and you are shy; But you must breathe, You must breathe through it - Persist. Persist, in order To exist. Drum! says the earth. Drum! The flower rises last. A voice stirs the unconscious dream; Something new jumps from the ethereal, Something vanishes from here. Ah! it is the silence of empty sleep; It is the arid calm, coming to life, It is the germ - the germ persists! Drum! shouts the earth. Drum! The flower must rise last. Quick. Sure. Now or now, not later. For the seed is breeding universes, And the stars cannot hold out for long. Look. Look, there. There, in the darkness, there. There is a pulse; there is a light, beating. Drum! cries the earth. Drum! The flower rises last. Keep still. Keep moving. Keep - Endure; Rise against the weight, Against the soundless pressure, Against the immeasurable toil Of seeming sameness and shiftless days; Persist. Persist, in order To resist. Drum! speaks the earth. Drum! The flower rises last. See now. See how the land invites. See how it opens ways For your indelible dismays. Nothing changes even, nothing stays the same. See how you catch the light; A brightness stirs the night. A silence stirs below, But you have carried through - It is no longer your concern, To be open is to yearn. The fruit will come, a voice repeats. The fruit will come. Drum! says the earth. Drum! The flower rises last. A hundred changeless days, you say. How many more? The wind has blown some leaves away; The sun has shadowed your display. Yet something turns inside, Something splits and multiplies, Something divides and unifies. Drum! shouts the earth. Drum! The flower rises last. The world is quiet now, Quiet and white. It is the snow. A thousand years, it seems, Since you had lied in darkness. Yet, something inflames inside. Something rises and explodes again. You are still in your wintry dress, As it enkindles and burns it away. It rises. It rises. It blooms, And you remain A spectacle of your domain. And a traveler walks past, Drum! sings the earth. Drum! The flower blooms at last!

Samuel Loome, from All the Nights I Dreamt with Erato

#creativity #creativeness #poetry #beauty #flowers #blooming #flower #blossom #poesy #poems #poem #creation #imagination #creating #samiel loome

[samielloome]

I have asked you to raise your curtains, again

I have asked you to raise your curtains, again - For me, for selfish me, That I may watch you through the wind and rain. To lift your veil when you are smiling, And to cry, For me, for selfish me. I have asked you to raise your eyes, again. The smoke of the world has blinded us, Between the nail and the worm, we breathe - And yet, We spy through the eye, the arrow That will undo us And find us underneath. I have asked you to raise your curtains, again - For me, for selfish me, That I may watch you through the wind and rain. Raising your eyes into the night, clear of the dust; Young, Eternal, Beautiful. For me, for selfish me, I have asked you to raise your curtain, again. The bite is cold, tranquil, civil - A winter morning in the spells of spring; And yet, The body itches to retain the arrow That has undone us, And ground us by the wing. I have asked you to raise your curtains, before - For me, for selfish me, That I may watch you and your flesh explore, Away from no one in a farther sea; And you have guided me, like a beacon, there, Full of the moon, the night, and just as bare, Between our windows, our reasons and our fates, Into the cradle of your Edean gates. -- Samiel Loome, from All the Nights I Dreamt with Erato

#erato #poetry #erotic #poesy #poem #samielloome #poems #love #dark #night #relationships #lost love #eros #lust #selfish

[samielloome]

All the Nights I Spent With Erato

It is cruel to begin it by forgetting; Your hopeful adagio, my quiet presto, I end, too soon, the song, Forgetting how to play along. Oh! but the flesh, the flesh, the flesh, Beating to someone else's rhythm; Moons pierced by daylight, Valleys uncovered and bare. It is cruel to begin it by forgetting I once was there. It is cruel to begin it by forgetting; A dress closing, a zipper, stubborn, A strange room, the smell of incense fading, A highway later, a song enticing Hands to learn the meaning of dancing; The distant memory of an unloved shadow, Young and sleeping in a sky castle While I slipped quietly into the walls of yours, Moment by moment, month by month And the hands kept dancing, Even when the flesh was bare. It is cruel to begin it by forgetting I once was there. It is cruel to begin it by forgetting; We watched moons rising, Though mine rose first, And the distance waxed As the months traversed; I heard new music, you tried new songs, In worlds unalike our own. New vines spread through my pillow - Large fruits, heat, and flooded wells - Though I lost my senses in their flavor, I could never lose myself. And the distance waned As you came, when you came, Hiding a beaten soul beneath a heart so bare. It is cruel to begin it by forgetting I once was there. It is cruel to begin it by forgetting; Moons later, for I spied her once more In the torrid sky of summer, While seeking bouquets in smaller blossoms, I touched at last another ocean, Just as you landed ashore. But the distance waxed long ago, Though a stretch of highways connected us, An inch of wood now divided us. We tried, again, the songs - The words, the rhythms, the verbs - Your soul was beaten; my heart was dim - I could no longer anchor my fears in yours, And though we wrestled In the confidence of our lips, Intertwined by the struggles of our flesh, Wont to sink deeply into the immeasurable depths Of our intuitive mold; Though we sang in high castles once more, The art of dancing had fled our hands, The music, muffled and unclear. Yet it is cruel to remind you by forgetting We were once there. --Samiel Loome, from “All the Nights I Spent with Erato”

#poem #erato #samiel loome #samielloome #poetry #eros #erotic

[samielloome]

Phobos:duo

Out of the screaming dark I came; into the world I went; out of the void. Don me the verb I am to wear; Our names are hand-me-downs. Nothing from nothing comes. I tasted the breast of a woman Before flavor ran through my lips; Again, I tasted another, Without memory of the first. Into the screaming dark I came; into that world I went; into her void, Between flesh and flesh, Coveted like a voice Hidden in the throat of the world. Folds salivating, hungry; Swallowing, swallowing My ego into her storm. Deimos... deimos! What have I? What have I to don? --Samiel Loome, from All the Nights I Spent with Erato

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[samielloome]

When we have found our garments in the waves...

When we have found our garments in the waves, And you, hands grasping floating flesh While my blood pulses with the undertow. Your feet uprooted and your heart upturned, As the current pushes and pulls our navels - Now towards, now away - beneathe the mirror of our faces. When we have seen and heard the call of birds, Fishing to feed their young, and we, Young ourselves with only a self to feed, And the blood pulses deeper yet in both - Your face reminds me of our fragile embrace And that seeds cannot be planted in the ocean. My spirit asks then, "do I sink my life in you, Or let it float with the waves to bare another Venus?" -Samiel Loome, from "If Only, Galatea"

#poem #poetry #Venus #Aphrodite #sex #Eros #erotic #lovemaking #love #loving #touch #ocean #sea #beach #teen pregnancy

[samielloome]

In B-flat minor

I shall write you a poem In the way B-flat minor sings To the lonely heart Of a fly on a string, Or like my simple art, Which cannot bear a thing, In B-flat, maybe, it will finally sing.

Five flats mean little yet, To the good man, Or his wife and child In the safety net; D-flat, to majorings, I could not sing such things So I will stick to three steps lower, Where the heart beats slower, Dragging the weight Of all those flats, Like a martyr and a cross - Or a whore in love.

-Samiel Loome from “All the Nights I Spent with Erato”

[samielloome]

Phobos:one

Have you ever been so far As to further what cannot be farther’d; Deepened what has no depth? I have inched my way into a soulless heart, Only to find on the other side The elocution of my own beating. Yes. I deepened what bore no depth; Abyssed, permit the verb, where lain no hollows - That gravity would never find me, Silent in the night Like an afterthought of solar light... ...or was it from fear I hid? -Samiel Loome, from “All the Nights I Spent with Erato”

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[samielloome]

Who cares if you are beautiful...

Who cares if you are beautiful! and against such beauty, sane? You! who will not risk drowning her heart In the rain. Or crying in the same So that your tears, alone, At the unity of their silence, Speak only to you, While you smile loudly in my eyes. -Samiel Loome, from “All the Nights I Spent with Erato”

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[samielloome]

The Blossoming Bud

No one knows how the first one Came to be - How flesh created flesh from want. A bosom hangs; An apple and an eye, Ready to feed the world into A thousand questions Of mortality. Feed from the fruit; Feed from the fruit or die. The little imbecile coveted by nature, Cradled out of the womb, Opens its eyes to the world To find itself Feeding from flesh, What flesh could not abort; Sleeping, the infant struggles To maintain its dreams Of having come from a waterworld; Sleeping, it yearns To Sleep again, But thence is woken up By hunger - A hunger for violence; A hunger to feed, To walk, To speak, To say, thus spoken: I want. I want more. --Samiel Loome, from "All the Nights I Spent with Erato"

#poem #frailty #birth #infancy #woman #breast #bosom #life #sleep #samiel loome #poetry #Erato #eve

[samielloome]

Modern Roules

There ‘re beautifull fleurs in all these paerts - Wunder-filled like Sommer, mais lacking hearts; They ‘ve gibben me solas und paradis - But soulless ‘re the edens of their eyes. I ‘ve come frome the river head, yet bear no crowne - Kings ‘re dead; and ‘ve no countree of thur owne. So I laye at your foote und kyss your hand, Watering flowers at your de-manned. There is beauty yet in such a flowering mold - Resuscitating muses from the Olde; But much to learn... still much ground to till, Lest we drop th’ olde seeds back into the hill. --Samiel Loome

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[samielloome]

You can walk on wires your whole life with no real purpose or destination. There's nothing wrong with that, but if you fall to your death, make sure it was worth something.

Samiel Loome

#wire #walking on eggshells #wreckless #stupid #risk #high risk #taking chances #stability

[samielloome]

(Photo credit: stefikouk)

And if I send my soul in fragments of words to the kingdom of your heart, will they float as a feather and transgress all measures of defense you once had built to keep me from reaching your abode? For I once knew a girl who grew so tall she reached the stars, but found, one day, she could no longer smell the flowers on the ground. So arrogance does make of us such fools we will ourselves to give up the warmth of the earth for the cold night sky.

–Samiel Loome, from “Epochs of Innocence”

#stars #arrogance #love #poetry #loneliness #death #alone #sorrow #feathers #poem #love poem #love prose