Dying Experience In the Andes, Gog and Magog, and Paris Rain

3 Poems: Death Ride in the Andes, Gog and Magog, and Paris Rain

Loss of life Experience throughout the Andes

With rods, on roadways, he rode in the dipped down dungy mountains; down, and up, and throughout, and crossings, and crisscrossing, and re-crossing them: riding within the deep shade in the towering ramparts of the Andes alongside the peaked walls; on another aspect a steep canyon down below; before him seemingly unattainable and impassable slops, and sheer drops into the watery abyss below. And higher than, the broad, blaze on the Solar, and buzzing with the wind, as well as the swap of wings from the condor. And with each stride from the horse, pulsating Dying, a-breath away: ever falling and at any time obvious to fall; now warm air fanning his experience, flowing over his skin, bathing him to snooze like by some phantom, -and by using a faint, flowing spirit, he closed his eyes, Enable the horse direct. And also the horse fell, stumbled, as though struck by an invisible blow, -all in a single age-long second, to Demise under…

five-15-2014 (No: 4951)

Gog and Magog

(Two Trees of Glastonbury, England) 2002

I saw them near the Tor, in Glastonbury,
Gog and Magog, the two big famous trees
From the times of King Writer plus the Eco-friendly Knight
Of King Richard the épilation lumière pulsée paris Lion Heart, and wizardry.
Two twin trees, like twisted ghosts, the hosts
In the Glastonbury Abbey, with a path and hillside.
There they stood, bare, with small bark-
Stricken by age, weather and the instances.
Shaped like lifeless twisted beasts, appropriate away from
Camelot’s legacy… , Oh, I did stand and look awhile,
Then climbed the fence, and up the tree a foot or a few.
I thought, ‘what Have you ever found’, – definitely much more than me!

five-fifteen-2014 (No: 4350)

Paris Rain (a poem; 2002)

Night time lights swish like fish, alongside the river, the Seine.
While boats by the docks lean along, the river’s skirt.
The Eiffel Tower’s lit-dazzling tonight, for town of love-
Pale receding moon, earlier mentioned, men and women going like humbugs!
Upon an instrument, an individual’s softly enjoying, and
Somebody’s softly singing, while in the drizzle of this rain…
The rain, rained like cats and pet dogs nowadays, deep humidity-
The lamp’s gentle, fills our space, and across the avenue is Notre Dame.
I rest on a cold iron mattress, sedate, fatigued, like I’m dead,
My fingers are chilly, rain drenched, I like Paris, but not the French!
Twilight comes early, in fall: grey times, feelings, and gray canines.
Rain drops to the window, helps make for the city, a dull gray purple!