Haruhiko's Poetry

Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated, both negative (but constructive criticism) and positive.

Promulgation of Cognizance

Entangling myself unto the blighted canvas,
Covered within the unending curse of smothering crepuscule,
I descend, I abhor this weaving threnody,
Stricken by pernicious revelation:
What is pain,
When there is the fatality of being born?
Cincture of knowledge, ensconcing my very soul,
Clawing madly, tending to the decipher
Of the purpose of meaning
And the truth of perception.
And it is thus that I hath been struck twice;
She descends, advent adverse to the expected,
Throwing me from this girdle of self-hatred
With outstretched arms yearning the embrace
She reaps the wrought iron tears from mine face
With a smile, reminding the resolve of heart.


Vestige of Redemption

Blessed blade clasped in resolved embrace,
He gazeth upon the cathedral of perfidious grace.
The hot iron tears hath carved his celestial path,
The heart strings hath stricken his somber wrath.

Cast into the cincture of twilight caliginosity
Within the mausoleum of encroaching calamity,
He crossed hellion’s threshold, epitaph’s elegy yearning to be strung,
Procession down the aisle, the seraphim’s enduring aegis never been sung.

She stood upon the altar, adorned in frilly black lace,
A flurry of blossoms drifting, her illusion of ethereal grace.
The crucifix cascaded the crimson streams,
The choir’s lamentations, the specious iniquity serene.

The sight of her expressionless gaze,
Tore at his being in a swirling blaze.
The gaze of the frightening eye,
Almost averted him from issuing the cry:

“Step twice, invite and welcome your death!
Pay homage to me with your last breath!
Say goodbye to the life you once knew
Along with the souls that came unwillingly before you.”

Her visage takes immediate form, an expression of black mirth,
Her grin seductive, yielding naught but a deceiving worth.
Stepping forth, she did extend, trailed delicate fingers upon his cheek,
His blade held steady, with a soft hint of pleasure she did whisper:

“Killing slowly is the way I conquer,
Not stopping until thou knoweth the meaning of suffer.
With their blind steps, they did burn,
Unable to control their hate so eagerly learned.”

In swift gale the demarcation is made—
Only for sharp edges to flash in crescent-moon arches
The slivers of pale light illuminate the resounding clashes
Of hers, the wrought iron-scythe; of his, the fiery silver blade.

The Canvas that Conceded the Body

She hath carved the wound beautifully,
Drew it down my skin the way a shepherd leads his flock.
And seeped in the art she’d begun to wrought,
I, the canvas that conceded the body,
Was distraught when she flung her speckled scalpel down and abruptly reeled away,
As if struck my stark revelation.
Night vacated the scene out her vicious reprieve,
As the sun barged swift through the caligation to find me:
Crumpled, a murder disheveled by the throws of fortune abated.
I toiled to make my destiny clear,
A freakish frame in vaudeville newsreels,
But that serpent scooped up her brushes and sobbed
"You, sir, are not ready to die."

Reading your work is to increase one's vocabulary by 50%! But that's a good thing. (Though, isn't "caliginous" an adjective?) "The Canvas that Conceded the Body" is a fascinating poem, one I shall be obliged to read through several times before I fully grasp it all.

She hath carved the wound beautifully,
Drew it down my skin the way a shepherd leads his flock.
And seeped in the art she’d begun to wrought,
I, the canvas that conceded the body,
Was distraught when she flung her speckled scalpel down and abruptly reeled away,
As if struck my stark revelation.

These first several lines were very interesting. I take it that it is the narrator's intent to portray the beauty in the lady's cruelty, as though her carving the wound were not a torture?

Thanks very much Selah. And yeah, the word 'caliginous' worked off the top of my head, but you're right in that it's an adjective. Hopefully I fixed it correctly. @_@

Originally Posted by Selah

These first several lines were very interesting. I take it that it is the narrator's intent to portray the beauty in the lady's cruelty, as though her carving the wound were not a torture?

In a sense. It has some esoteric meaning, although it's not nearly that ghastly. I suppose this one can have several different interpretations depending on the perspective of the reader.:)

And now, here's the next one. A little more simplistic, as I wrote it for English III (we're in the Romantic period):
__________________________________________________ ________________________


Thread of Quintessence

Seeking endless dreams without succor,
Holding thee in mine arms.
Soft as a white lily fresh in spring,
Holding flame ablaze in grandest splendor.

As the night comes, sets the stage
For this moonlight serenade.
Glorious ghosts singing in snow
Brandishing painful memory best remembered.

Curtains of rain, cascading to the ballad,
Striking perfect harmony.
Endless emotions flowing in gentle winds,
Searching for these precious feelings in mine heart.

Traversing skies boundless by comparison,
Cherry blossoms flurrying.
In the trodden heavens was an end
Twilight boundary yearning to be called love.

My, my, my... This is incredibly impressive...

The wordiness of your work is a wee bit daunting, but once you get over it, and take out a dictionary () , it just blows your mind.

I can't say much about style, as mine is much more simple, in terms of word choice, than yours.

However, I would say that it creates a certain feel to the work. I could, with much simpler language, write on the same themes, but the way the two pieces read and feel would be significantly different. (Not to mention the sky is blue... )

Major kudos!

Thank you Alehandro. I suppose I could write it more simply, but for some reason it doesn't, as you've mentioned, feel the same. Perhaps it's just in my character, who knows?

Anyway, here's another one:

Requiem of Aegis

Slashing to the bone, you carved the misery
Upon the soul that avulsed your calamitous audacity,
Spanning beautifully the wings of deception
To sweep away at this nostalgic melody.

This dry road stained by incessant stars
Upon which you avert your steps in graceful flutter
Digging only deeper your somber grave,
This burning desire reaches to you in the mist.

An eternity of solitude within solitude
Wanting, dreaming to be shattered.
Scorch this corrupt seraphim from the skies!
Wake from this unavailing dream.

Through Twilight's Embrace

This tiny feather floats in glissade,
Kissing gently the surface of frozen silence.
My sorrow, thought endless, came to its demise,
Heart aching rhapsodically, your voice embraced me.

Transgressing the bewildered yesterday,
Eluding things not meant to be understood,
As a blossom does fade in the moonlight,
I smiled upon the slivers of gentle sway.

Dreaming in the land of evenfall,
Sharing with me my every pain.
One more kiss to wake me from this agony,
In quiet places so close to eternity.

I held your hand as we traversed the frozen night,
Trembling with despair as you fell unto sepulchral nightmare.
But as the doves from your words came cascading,
I cried, calling your name, penetrating through the fantasm.

Cast into the averred certainties,
Subduing all that is suffering,
Transcending all things of mortality’s bitter gift,
With memories hesitant to call this feeling pointless.

Façade

She sheds the sterling silver tears,
Holding my hand as a mourner does a rose
To abhor that which the spider lily’s path shadows,
Forever wondering why our emotions sway upon this pedestal.
Cast into the labyrinth, lost in this ephemeral embrace
Closing my eyes - the scent of summer’s tears.
The dream of my clipped wings,
Looking at this place with a longing for one last wish.
Cold, empty, battered and bruised,
Longing for this hopeless façade to come true.

Geez, do I suck that bad? Heh.

Stanchion

Where the rising aurora caressed the bank,
And the stray specters drift with unperceived destination,
I stay here for this fleeting moment
Soaking in this whisper of nostalgic loneliness.

Your tenderness, soft as a blossom upon the tree—
This candle, ablaze even in this recondite river—
How long ago was it that I became lost in this requiem?
I was so near the dark, but you told me of the sun.

With this single fragment melting a little,
Hiatus, the tinniest glimmer once unknown
Casting away the mundane stains
To replace it with warm embrace.

And God Blessed the Sorrows

Passing down the pharisaic law,
Coercing these cold hearts into the freezer,
To cast them, as a child does the lily,
Into this listless river of ashen silence.

From whence straitlaced spear flung,
Is there a contortion in its deciphers?
The flocks upon the altar are consumed by their glee
At the failure of realizing our humanity.

Do they hold the proper light?
Or is it the flame for the burning?
Are we ghosts in the boundless blizzard
For the emancipation of honorable plight?

Subjective limitations now convulsing unrestrained,
Kindling the hatred and despair of bitter strife.
Twisted regiment beating down this path,
How long ‘til they claim the freedom?

Originally Posted by Haruhiko

Geez, do I suck that bad? Heh.

Gasp! Nothing of the sort! Your poems are amazing! They're all carved with exquisite tenderness, each with its own subtle nuances.

It's like Selah said. I thought I had a good vocabulary, but there are so many words that I can learn here.

Your brilliance is something to which I flock, like a bee to a nectar filled blossom. True artistic taste such as this I have not witnessed in many a day, and I thank thee for writing such eloquent tapestries of emotion.

Thank you for both of your comments, Haikeiia and Marius. And Mar, very interesting review, to say the least. ^-^;...
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Stray Violin

Exacerbated winds shattering keening innocence
In the resurrection of violin’s solemn beauty,
Pen flits upon these tattered pages in a vicarious requiem.
One step, one tear, the maiden spins the encomium,
Daring to defy the squalls of untold trepidation.
Caressing dilapidated skies, relinquishing the enclosure
Of the shroud’s orchestral score amongst the battlement;
The conductor, turning his back upon the dais,
Surrenders only his vacuous gaze at the sands caked in red.

I think 'Stray Violin' is my favourite thus far! It's like there's a duality of a music composition and a real event (a battle?) that has affected the 'conductor' (soldier?) profoundly.

Very close, Haikeiia, you're just missing one aspect. The conductor is someone with much more power - the most, in fact, in terms of operating the military. Thanks for the compliment, too ^-^...I'm also fond of that one.
_________________________

This Definition

We have waited for this definition - expecting signs to be uncrossed
But since we have seen the boundaries we'd hoped blatant smeared, where should we go?
Our brush of fate already kindled the embers of ancient blazes new.
We scoffed, "Our passion can out burn it!"
Now we fear we cannot douse it.
You and I both know the space between our ships is enough for us to jump the ocean,
And to kill the captain of either would be enough to choke the other,
With cannons rightfully borne, we question our right to fire.
As I imagine you heartbeat across the void, it pumps the purpose from my bones,
And through the valley of my emptied veins, the truth rattles that this battle will claim us both.

Wow... Amazing... Your wording is incredible... After reading your poetry I take it as that much more of a compliment that you liked mine Keep it up, it's mind-bending..

Very close, Haikeiia, you're just missing one aspect. The conductor is someone with much more power - the most, in fact, in terms of operating the military

Ah! I thought I was overlooking something.

"This Definition" is a contemplative poem. I think that sense of comradeship between the two sides is sweet and sad.

Thanks to the both of you, celestialsun and Haikeiia (again). I try. :3

This one I actually wrote a year ago - for reasons you'll see.

Caitlin
We hold in our hearts the blade and the beloved,
Watching with frigid breath as the cauterized hearse descends the gangway.
Galloping quickly, your horse cries in the darkened skies;
Instantly calmed.
Fleeting in this pelting dreary, your shade moves to divertimento-
And we ask ourselves, "How can we smile upon this virulent casket?"
She sleeps in euphoric lane, shooting the flame amidst our veins;
Stricken happiness.
Did we come to stare, or to wash away the blood?
Thurible, the admonisher, and essence of your grace
Bringing a smile to these once-dilapidated lips;
Love eternally.

Originally Posted by Haruhiko

Did we come to stare, or to wash away the blood?
Thurible, the admonisher, and essence of your grace
Bringing a smile to these once-dilapidated lips;
Love eternally.

This stanza is very beautiful. Brings a lot of imagery to mind.

Thanks, LionHarted.~

Anyway...don't ask what inspired me to write a poem...about waking up in the morning. What can I say, I'm spontaneous.~

Aloofness

Rollicking in this elated dream,
Soon shattered by blooming thorns,
To crush reposed stoicism with just a little squeeze.
Hiding it with both hands,
Waning redolence, such a sweet trap,
Waking into this gyrating frenzy of gossamer sheets torn asunder
With placid puddles of fleshly demulcant weaving through the fibers.