Dirty Gerty's Hurdy Gurdy


Only the poem knows what's true

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Purple Rivers

I've decided, after I finish my second novel, I'm going to compose a book of poems. With Persephone as the theme. Persephone being me, half heaven, half hell, half winter, half spring, all recovering, all my withering. I'm going to begin it with a dedication. To The Dead. And it will follow this way:

If purple is the color,
That soot your holy hue,
To trinity of black,
To tragedy and truth,

Let dolorous purple,
Thin the Virgin's skin,
Under an under cover,
Sample the rood of sin,

It is only in sin to suffer,
The amber and the black,
And find for each an emblem,
For Heaven Hell and back,

But bloodied is the sin,
That in purple blood redeems,
The angel and the leper,
The Devil and its dreams,

In dreams you walk,
In purple rivers,
Moon lit, soft, and sweet,
What the Soul will not deliver,

For the Soul is pretense,
And Fate a passer by,
But Death is Life's first lover,
And Beauty the gloaming sky,

You wander in no garden,
Except where thorns prevail,
And the roses of the gloaming,
Have no fate to scale,

Except the thirsting, searching,
Loving, the bidding you adieu,
So me and you and everyone,
Sees to Sorrow sin and good,

And in these purple rivers,
Where everything holds true,
There is no sin to Sorrow,
But the loss of Sin in You.

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