The Poetry of Marie Eyre
OMEGA
Maybe,
the end of time,
aflame with flash divine,
will stay the Earth and deaden mad
wailing.
Might be,
when we are deep,
between sweet plies of sleep,
Omega will crush dreams, the void
trailing.
Perhaps
a mighty hand
will quiet flowing sand,
saving us from final acts of
failing.
© 2001 Marie Eyre c. June
DRIED LEAVES
Childhood slips away
like a bright red
sleigh
atop snowy hill,
where silver steel
meets icy run.
Swift as a brief thought,
it disappears,
caught,
pendent in webs,
heavy with all
that has been done.
Faint lingering tracks,
sifted with time,
crack,
cleave and crumble,
like dried leaves
left in the sun.
© 2001 Marie Eyre c. April
ERSATZ
Busy bumblebee,
loose in the house, buzzied through
a hole in the screen,
and claimed the plastic flowers
in the fake Byzantine vase.
© 2001 Marie Eyre c. June
NIGHT WATCH
The unruly hounds howl up the moon
as it rises above the evergreens
that cling to life on the mountainside
rising rugged from the valley's gloom.
Small creatures shuffle their lives
around
as they hunt and eat from burrow and limb
and night owls screech their warrior's cries
as they plan their feast upon the ground.
The singing lake cradles the beach
with lullaby laps upon the sand
that glistens in the wet serenade
of the indigo water's rolling reach.
The wind regales the virgin dark
possessing the vale with gleeful howl
that echoes in places unknown to man
still free from his ambiguous mark.
When the burgeoning moon is fat with
light,
and the wayward hounds have paused to rest,
the laughing zephyrs soar to the peaks,
and stillness comes to watch the night.
© 2000 Marie Eyre
THE APPLE
I hold the apple,
Freshly plucked
From Mother tree,
And wonder of its life,
Upon the bough.
I rend its flesh
With sharp
And grinding tooth.
And feel the executioner
Somehow.
Sweet juice runs
Down chin and arm.
I have become the apple.
Does it live...
Now?
© 1999 Marie Eyre
THE TOUCHING
You patted dogs,
smoothed
your curly hair,
and crushed grass
in your baby fist.
The world
and its wealth
were yours for the touching.
You left
your stamp
of curiosity
everywhere.
When I needed you
to pay me mind,
you'd rub my cheek,
and laugh,
bubbling tides
of innocent mirth
that washed away
thoughts
of your naughtiness.
You ebbed
and flowed
through me.
You played my days
like a piano;
hard jagged notes
curved and softened
beneath
the sinless sorcery
of your touch.
Your tiny prints
have vanished.
The years
have scrubbed them
from the walls
but not from
mind.
I've stored them
in my
forever place
just in case
you may need them
on your way
to the future
where something
might need
touching.
© 2001 Marie Eyre c. June
U.F.O.
I watch the silver saucer glow
hanging just below
indifferent stars and slivered moon.
It strains against the ebon sky,
filling up my view,
capturing my mind,
and I am glad I'm here,
peering from my window
safe within my sphere.
Sheer colors in exotic sway,
crimsons, yellows, play
about the spinning disc and rend
the fabric of the torpid night.
Bursting into flame,
indigo and red,
it soars beyond Earth's brink,
leaving misconception;
locked inside a blink.
I can't believe my vision's true,
knowing that so few
have seen such things and failed to tell
for fear of scathing ridicule.
Aliens in ships,
from beyond my realm,
cannot, I've heard, exist.
Knowing this I think,
"at last I've seen the myth."
© 2000 Marie Eyre
CHOCOLATES
Consume something rich
so to tingle one's senses
upon the palate, prepared
to eat but one
after dinner.
Decadent treat,
satiny, creamy.
How coddled the soul
from the mouth caressed
with velvet browns
plucked from the resevoir
of silken temptation.
Again and again,
the hand dips and dives
into the sea
of rustling, pleated paper
cups... Then,
somewhere along the way,
the emptiness of the chocolate box
flowers in the belly
with warm , sensuous, aching,
fullness.
© 2000
Marie Eyre
THE ROBBERY
He was a sodden wretch, alone and
grim.
From side to side, he staggered on the street.
His voice, a whisper was, he begged and whined
For coins, and food, and cigarettes for him.
I was the next in line. My head was
bent.
I would not throw my eye for him to catch.
His destiny was dust, each step he took.
The clouds of need arose with pungent scent.
Existence was a cue. He spoke his
plea.
I stood and played the part of poor man, too.
I raised my hands in total mock despair,
And would not give a single part of me.
He looked at me with pity in his eyes,
Then sadly shook his head and shuffled off.
For moments, I was certain he'd gone mad,
And would return to hound me with his cries.
My angry thoughts released their seeds
of wrath.
He pitied me, yet, it was he who begged!
I am a man of substance. One can tell,
And he was filth in dire need of bath!
But for some clouded cause I felt
undone.
A vagrant ill had moved to reign within.
In time, I'd know the error of my plan,
And recognize myself, the sullied one.
The years, gone by, have left me with
my grief.
He was correct to pity me, that day.
I lied, and therefore robbed him of the truth,
And made myself a liar, and a thief.
© 2000 Marie Eyre
A WINTER'S NIGHT
The grey of day fades from sight.
and the eve wears a cloak
of velvet black. Switch on the light.
Strike a match. The fire to stoke
for it is cold and dark, this night.
Shadows tease my weary mind.
Visions tumble through my thoughts
of a frosty day. Pull down the blind.
The kettle sings. The tea steams hot.
It is so cold and dark outside.
The kitchen table is sunny bright,
with checkered cloth and candle glow
flickering soft. A tasty bite
of fresh-baked bread goes down slow.
The winter wind blows harsh this night.
I call her name but she doesn't hear.
Close the door and lock it tight
against winter's roar. Poor sweet dear.
Small black cat in the winter white.
It is so cold and dark this night.
© August 2000 Marie Eyre
DEAR PIP
Dear Pip, you funny little cat,
curled soft and innocent
in the depths of my lap.
Your entire length quivers
with purrrr
as you stretch
and welcome
my fingers through your fur.
Dear Pip, you naughty little wretch.
Outdoors and hunting,
you've brought me your catch.
I see that you've played
with poor mouse.
What makes you think
I want it,
at my feet, in the house?
Dear Pip, you knowing little soul.
Your eyes follow faithfully
everywhere I go.
You're gentle, though bound
by your laws
that keep you rapt
licking death
from your quiet paws.
© 2000 Marie Eyre c. Feb.
CAREFUL, NOW
Slyly, now.
Lower your head
while you speak the lies
that stretch and stir
in your alibis.
Slowly, now.
Repeat the words
that slip and slide
across your tongue
and out your eyes.
Gently, now.
Arrange your face
with love and care
mold it around
your hollow stare.
Softly, now.
Take my hand
as if it were
a hummingbird
fluttering there.
Careful, now.
Lies, like death,
hang heavy
in the air.
© 2000 Marie Eyre c. Aug.
