Scorched Corona

SCORCHED CORONA

  E.A. Bowen

  Copyright 2011 by E.A. Bowen

  For Those In Need

  Collected Poetry

  Passion's Imp

  In Darkness Lays the Dragon

  Scorched Corona

  What Evil Does to He: Cry of the Werewolf

  Knight of the Crimson Night

  Imprisoned

  Mankind

  My Scarlet Countess

  Doll with No Face

  Why the Widow Weeps

  Hermit Sod House

  View of the Vile

  Lasher Of Tulips

  Tearless Babe

  Cactus Children

  Unholy Nuptials

  Grave Diseased Earth: When We the People Sit in Silence

  What We Have Seen: Now Stronger

  In Vain

  Chu'a

  Solitary American Eagle

  Court of Corruption

  Ironclad Rustics

  Il banchetto di Bacchus

  Bedlam of the Moguls: Kingdom of the Dead

  Catacomb

  Practice of Euboea's Lords

  Penalty of the Human Life

  Bloody Land: Creatures

  Pretty Ballerina

  Feel the Strange Heart Beating

  Passion's Imp

  Angelic faery

  Of mortal lands

  With shattered wings

  Flickering slightly

  Your chastity weeps

  Of late disgrace

  Waxed tenderly not and

  Scarred burnt cheeks

  O passion's imp

  Beloved scorched

  -Seared in blackness-

  Wake your dark eyes

  To ruby wings unbroken

  Graciousness restored

  With melted sorrow

  Angelic faery breathe

  In immortal lands

  In Darkness Lays the Dragon

  In darkness lays the dragon

  Where I shall slay it by my hand,

  With sword and crest in gallantry

  Near England my ship to land.

  And I with fever curse aloud

  Deaf to sweating rage,

  And to surface comes my fear

  My body... ravaged by age.

  Out with my bellows and cries

  As I vision a greenery ahead,

  I spot the cave where he sleeps

  Darkness lumps inside- dread.

  What if he were to wake before I could

  Plummet his blood, silence abroad?

  What if I were to break before

  My cunning beast I dare maraud?

  And now I lay my foot upon

  His scales cobalt and red,

  My hands grip into my sword

  As I creep along his bed...

  Fire from out his mouth

  Burns light within the cave,

  I see scores of dragons sleeping!

  And I am weeping,

  Weeping

  Weeping to be brave.

  From behind me now comes forth

  A blaze of crimson fire!

  My aging body

  Ages no more

  As I scorch in a fiery gyre

  In darkness lays the dragons

  Where I rest by death's hand,

  With sword and crest in gallantry

  Near hell my soul to land.

  Scorched Corona

  Screams of ageless furies; moans

  To forgotten sin, faceless for

  Burden's sake

  Blades numb to angst enduring

  Quiet

  Thralls for majesties!

  Blotting bloody mistakes

  In hope of retribution

  Through sacrificial loss and waste

  Scorched corona, halo burnt-

  Crisper, cloudy round the top

  Bearing fateful whispers

  Of treacheries cut shear.

  One race, human folly,

  Suffering to surety's foe,

  Blinded, crusading ego

  Spilling our soul's blood.

  What Evil Does to He

  Cry of the Werewolf

  The air is thick of angry men

  My clothes -wet- in blackened blood,

  My world blurs into spiraling thoughts...

  I hear my heart

  missing

  its thud.

  What evil have I done?

  I cried

  My hands shiver, dripping red.

  I have no memory of this.

  I am not alone in my bed.

  Men batter thick fists at my door

  And shout to me their evil tongue,

  My eyes bloodshot, now crusted shut,

  I could not see her body hung.

  I smell her.

  I stumble 'cross my bedroom

  Open windows into rain,

  Wash away the shame that blinds

  And turn to see what cruel death has lain.

  My face presses 'gainst her hand

  As I pull down her body warm,

  And fall upon my knees

  Knowing

  That it was I that had killed she.

  I howl.

  Knight of the Crimson Night

  With black steed prancing forward

  Through pines in nightly rain,

  Gallops forth a masked knight

  Clutching the deadly wolfs-bane.

  To poison veins of rivals

  Is a quest he truly knows,

  For secrecy lurks his spirit

  With vengeance of his foes.

  Midnight skies darken light

  In the moon shade he rides,

  Journeying unaided westward

  Into shadows where he hides.

  Crimson stained stars burst

  As thick smoke blanket woods,

  Silence comforts mindless fools,

  All are dead before the knighthood.

  With his tears streaking down,

  He lays wolfsbane onto the ground,

  Weeps the death of his family killed

  By his enemy a short time crowned.

  Death to the king! he vows,

  And rides to a malevolent East,

  Nameless knight eyes this land,

  Prayer to those the king deceased.

  Those who glance his way will see

  A veil of black hiding his face,

  Vanishing into the horrid mist,

  Leaving with not a trace.

  Now steed of black prancing forward

  Through smoky woods in a crimson night,

  A ghostly presence comes into sight and

  Gallops forth a masked noble knight.

  Imprisoned

  Cutting deep like a vein

  He keeps track of the time

  His scalpel only tool

  And slaughter only crime

  Rank blanket only friend

  Rain's melody his tune

  He's wetting in buckets

  And eating by teaspoon

  Bars of iron refuge

  Cleanse his tongue of sin

  But a life in a cage

  Is not worth being in

  He stays inside at night

  Lays hidden in the day

  Thinks to slice his arm

  To end his life his way

  His feet begin to give

  Body falls to the ground

  His eyes shut out the light

  His ears block out the sound

  Now burning into light

  His mind begins to see

  No torture can redeem

  What he has done to me

  Cutting deep like a vein

  He keeps track of the time

  His scalpel only tool

  And slaughter on
ly crime

  Mankind

  Under icy branches

  Scarcely seen

  Knightly shadows

  Secrete in privation

  Corpse of their master

  Burns

  Death's grip clutches

  A dying nation

  Darkened East Sea

  Once called Red

  Before the sky

  Flamed by mankind

  Now brittle living

  Wish they slept

  For the desire of the wise

  Is to be blind

  Crackling icy trees

  From sun streaming

  Through burnt clouds

  Brings brief hope

  As the King enshrouds

  Remember, death holds the Sea,

  Poisoning the blood of mankind,

  Reflecting its color

  Above in lost reason

  For it was human reason

  That killed the mind.

  Now under melting branches

  Knightly shadows die in damnation

  For the dead people

  Of their worlds burn,

  Man's grip may crush

  A world's dying nation.

  My Scarlet Countess

  Knitted sheer veil hides her

  For no human can perceive

  Why her skin is so frail

  Why her music can deceive,

  Tapping oaken planks amid

  A ballroom's court of play

  The Courtier bids farewell

  Bids farewell to thee

  Light silences her away,

  And in shadows deep I kneel

  To numb her throbbing mar,

  She looks twice and turns afar,

  Blindly I do follow

  Three paces at the right,

  Gaze at her feet prancing

  Stepping into the light.

  Velvet curtains tumble as

  Yellow moon rays dance down,

  Her veil is quickly torn

  Whiteness breaks her gown,

  Two bones now protrude

  Curving out her lips,

  My scarlet countess wakes

  As blood pours through the rips.

  I scurry into nightshade

  Scamper into the rain

  Prick the holes out my neck

  And lick the blood in pain.

  Doll with No Face

  She heard the echoes

  From the downstairs' pantry

  Metal rings

  Like a cold, unending knife

  But she kept in silence

  In the upstairs bedroom

  In the white laced

  Chipping baby cradle

  Her eyes were but two blue marbles staring

  White lights flickered, smoke clustered

  In and out

  Burnt black fog whispering

  Children screaming, “Fire!”

  Her unpainted lips

  Would not whisper

  Could not whisper

  As she pulled the blue blanket

  Over her head

  A girl with no home

  A doll with no face

  Why the Widow Weeps

  Bloody tears shed no desire

  To casket - in wreaths

  Silk blossoms cannot lighten

  What sharp darkness clutched

  Her gray veiled locks crisp

  Under dry hemlock vines

  Lowering head first her man

  A bastard in disguise

  She does not weep in sorrow

  That God unjustly raged,

  Fate severed the wrong thread-

  O woe to the virgin wife

  She does not weep in sorrow,

  Death is but destiny, while

  A martyr always dies

  As the spouse finds anew

  In sorrow she has not,

  In joy she grows a plenty,

  A new man's ring glistens

  From him her belly's full

  In darkness swelled from sorrow

  An unborn babe created,

  No longer weep, dear widow,

  Your life inside incorruptible.

  Hermit Sod House

  Rocking back and forth, squealing to the wind,

  His home one chair, plain and weak,

  Guarding his prairie of golden cornfaces,

  His home long forgotten.

  Bleak voices whisper from the floors,

  But his home no longer hears them,

  Sleeting rain trembles by his feet,

  But his home only knows of his tears.

  Fluttering creatures engulf surviving life,

  How could his home stand so still forever?

  Armies of wheels march

  In a line crooked west,

  Could his home wheeze the dust another winter?

  A sharp whistled trigger ready to attack,

  Protecting his home of a hermit effigy,

  Puffing blackness

  Last of all warmth gone,

  Protecting his home from starvation and death.

  The man's hand scrapes a stone gently,

  Outside of his home

  Where babes of his soul sleep soundly,

  Weeping over a life plucked

  From the vines unripe, forbidden

  Outside his home in mists of forlornness.

  That day has come when the mud slides,

  Caving in his home

  Red wounds collapsing,

  Burying hope of returning,

  Caving in his home

  Caving in his heart

  Burying his young.

  View of the Vile

  If ever a time for bloodshed,

  Let it be over criminal justice

  Rather than societies' whines

  Children cannot unearth a meal

  In their nickel canisters,

  Nor can they find warmth

  In frosted rawhide flesh,

  With pruned feet numbing off,

  With minds swelled in viral knowledge,

  With ears pierced in heckling coughs,

  With a world dying around them,

  They have only time to play.

  Three pigeons, attired with auburn silk,

  Fester at Dublin's Corner Club,

  Netted tights crease skin

  Wedging into strapped silhouettes,

  Thick smoke from mint cigarettes

  Flickers ash into gray dead hair.

  A child, infested, drags itself

  From an ominous alley,

  The hag spews stained saliva,

  Twitches her fogged eye,

  Grabs primeval newspapers

  Burned by unlit cigarettes and

  Rolls them for a beating,

  Without a spoken word,

  The child dashes into darkness,

  Waits for his emerald supper,

  Of musty cabbage and bread.

  She curses the middle finger

  Bounded by twine and hate,

  Spits again and dies before

  Another whore takes her place.

  Lasher Of Tulips

  Shedding petals

  Iced white,

  Crackling down

  By silver wind,

  Ash hoarfrost

  Swallows June,

  Numbing greens

  Blanketing all,

  Lasher of tulips,

  Beater of roses,

  Death's tempest,

  Fair El Niño.

  Tearless Babe

  Unspoken lips

  Mask rank tongues,

  Impure thoughts,

  Its lashes crisp.

  Brittle, encrusted,

  Forever shut,

  Dreamless owl,

  Tearless babe,

  Mummified girl.

  Cactus Children

  Prancing in cracked sand dunes,

  Digging parched dung and hay,

  Drinking mud water'
s bliss,

  We, the children, laugh and play

  Ribs protruding sheets of skin,

  Lungs pressing life away,

  Bloodiest kin now tangos,

  Lifeless baby cannot play

  Its legs too short and stumpy,

  Head tipped off in a sway,

  We, the children, sing tonight,

  To celebrate our deadened play

  Pricking flesh off the teeth,

  Sucking wild howls in gray,

  Nothing lives,

  As we cactus children play.

  Unholy Nuptials

  Pastel gown frosted white

  Crisp upon a feather bed,

  Abysmal serpent slithers

  Another before they wed,

  Floating into vagueness

  By rogue husband's hand

  She breaks chains of virtue,

  Throws down her wedding band,

  Golden abandon halo tumbles

  Popping this bloody dream,

  Farewell unfaithful other half

  Drowning tears in the stream.

  Grave Diseased Earth

  When We the People Sit in Silence

  In the year twenty one fourteen

  Air is thick of gasoline

  Water filtered by pumps unclean

  Soils rich with dirty lumps

  Ivory bones litter green fields

  By mankind's wild atomic wields

  Earth becomes but a disease of graves

  Picked clean by her venomous ways

  Vultures just the remaining few

  They who were the ones that knew

  Alert, ingenious, oh- they hid

  Under aluminum hearts- they hid

  Soiled Earth, dead of healing

  From humankind, wars are wheeling

  Now blackness turns to water

  Cleansing our grounds of slaughter

  One day we will revisit our home

  Rebuild the cities great, rebuild our Rome,

  Watch safely like birds from outer space

  Planting seeds of a much nobler race

  Until our day has come to pass

  We sit in silence

  Through tainted glass

  Soiled Earth, dead of healing

  Cleanse the ground of our beating

  And like vultures, we will stay,

  And reclaim our sadness in victory

  What We Have Seen: Now Stronger

  Spaniards blew their horns

  Drew out rapiers, stormed

  A golden city drained

 

  Metal slices into mud

  Clashing of the souls

  Below now swelling grounds

  Hell has not awoken us

  As we sleep within

  Our underground bunker

  We hid when all was wrong