ANGELICA
Angelica, winsome darling, precious little mite
What has caused the twinkle in your lonesome eyes tonight?
Dressed in antique raiment that your angel mother wore
Do you think about me often and the bond we shared before?
Have you just discovered magic in this softly scented rose
As you fan it e’er so gently to tease your pixie nose?
Do the crimson petals offer warm comfort in their folds
So snug and all encompassing, the way a mother holds?
Or have you stirred with memories of the times in recent past
When our truly happy family thought the happiness would last?
How we danced around this lamp pole your fingers home in mine,
Does your smile reflect that memory? Should it be for me a sign?
You wrap your arms around the pole, and cling with all your might
As if to hug a fleeting dream, afraid it could take flight.
Take hold! hold tight! my princess, let our moment linger on
Knowing you remember me, fills my soul with song.
But wait! My precious baby, how selfish have I been
To claim your smiles as memories while I watch this touching scene?
How could you have a memory, your life has just begun
Too soon for retrospective muse or grey to cloud your sun?
Fling wide your arms; toss off the robes, for all the world’s a stage
Play ring-a-ring-a-rosy with children of your age.
Let go! Let go! Angelica. May your heart find joy in flight,
In the music of your laughter and the wonder of your sight.
Angelica, winsome darling, precious little mite,
What has caused the twinkle in your lovely eyes tonight?
copyright © Wendy Laharnar 2000
THE LEGEND OF THE UNICORN
Bubbles in a babbling brook burst over pebbles of glass
White chiffon swirls `round lissom limbs on a bank of verdant grass.
Drawn by mysterious force she comes to the woods in the dewy air,
She gathers bluebells and she weaves a garland for her hair.
Approaching hooves her joy completes, the proud steed shakes his head,
The strong, white body, flushed of face, falls down before her... dead.
A hush befalls the stricken woods, its breath suspended now,
Her violent efforts can’t dislodge the arrow from his brow.
“Breathe Life! I beg all woodland nymphs, the fairies and the sprite!
Reverse the treachery of man, great Artemis of night.”
She flings her arms around the beast; her crystal tears flow free.
Apollo and his sister smile, they can’t resist her plea.
The throbbing of a loving heart and warmth from the rising sun,
Blue flowers on a bloodstained mane, the miracle has begun.
Was it but a play of light, with the breaking of the dawn?
Or did the great colt quiver? No arrow now, just glistening horn.
“Ah, sweet victory,” the maiden cries, “no man can poison thee.
Unique within the magic world forever you’ll roam free.”
Prancing, dancing, a lyre enhancing the lilting woodland song,
The gentle steed and maiden sigh, assured they both belong
Where the natural and the mystic realms merge in the dewy air,
Where bubbles burst in crystal tears and great gods answer prayer.
So, in the morn, before the dawn, when a babbling brook she hears
She’ll find herself in Bluebell Woods where the unicorn appears.
copyright © Wendy Laharnar 2000
photo courtesy of Irina
irssy.blogspot.com
THE FAIRIES’ FLOWER
There’s a chorus of summer from the birds and the bees
An ivy wall shelters the flowers and trees.
A blossom is plucked, that traverses a path,
By a tender young bud who ventures to ask,
“What is your favourite flower?”
Her companion, as old as the Sycamore tree,
Smiles, her eyes clouding in distant memory.
“Twelve pale pink rosebuds were delivered one night
By a handsome young rogue who has since taken flight;
Ah! The Rose is my favourite flower.”
“How wonderfully strange for it happens to be
I’m named for the Rose. They’ll remind you of me.”
Laughing, dancing barefoot, in front of the crone
Her own winsome beauty to her still unknown,
The child is a delicate flower.
“Rose, help me discover the secret once told,
That deep in the bonnets formed by these folds
Live the tiniest fairies with gossamer wings,
And share the small pleasure that this image brings:
The Sweet Pea is the fairies’ flower.”
Little eyes squinting, searching the leaves
With senses well honed she’s anxious to please.
Petals of pastel, red, purple and white,
The breeze and the shadows cast dappled light
On these magical, fragile flowers.
“Oh! Soft, gentle flutter, I see them! It’s true!
Now Sweet Peas will always remind me of you.
Come, kneel beside me. Hush. Don’t make a sound.”
Then, breathing the fragrance, together they found
The power of love in a flower.
© Wendy Laharnar 1998
The Scarf
for
Barbara
Exotic gift, a touch of class,
A wisp, a gentle mien
Like sunlight on a scented rose
Reflects the summer sheen,
This warm embrace and soft caress
Draped in graceful ease,
Designed to wrap around; to charm;
To comfort and to please.
The way her flowing lines enfold
Reveals a natural flair,
Held lightly by a golden clef,
Belies her fragile air.
Unclasped too soon, the pin has snapped,
The lovely gift is gone
Floating upward ever upward,
Adrift on Heaven's song.
21.10.2002
Copyright © Wendy Laharnar 2002
A Triolet
What is a triolet?
A TRIOLET (tree-o-lay)
A BEGUILE WITH WIT AND SMART DESIGNS
B WHEN YOU CRAFT A TRIOLET.
a USE THREE REFRAINS, TWO RHYMES, EIGHT LINES.
A BEGUILE WITH WIT AND SMART DESIGNS
a SO NATURALLY THE POET SHINES;
b ART AND ARTIST ON DISPLAY
A BEGUILE WITH WIT AND SMART DESIGNS
B WHEN YOU CRAFT A TRIOLET
Cooyright © Wendy Laharnar 2002
---------------------------------------------------
How I wrote this Triolet
Jung, archetypes/ tarot, synchronicity
shadows and dragons
A Triolet
The Seeker
A Distorted by shadow, his lamp lights the way
B For she who wends inward through trees.
a She encounters fierce dragons contorted in play.
A Distorted by shadow his lamp lights the way.
a In dread she lies hidden till thoughts to her stray
b that fear in all truth is, she suddenly sees,
A distorted by shadow. His lamp lights the way
B for she who wends inward, through trees.
Tree - the archetypal symbol of life and knowledge in both the conscious and unconscious realms. Interaction with the tree brings a type of mythic boon where the physical and the sacred are united.
A TRIOLET (tree-o-lay)
A BEGUILE WITH WIT AND SMART DESIGNS
B WHEN YOU CRAFT A TRIOLET.
a USE THREE REFRAINS, TWO RHYMES, EIGHT LINES.
A BEGUILE WITH WIT AND SMART DESIGNS
a SO NATURALLY THE POET SHINES;
b ART AND ARTIST ON DISPLAY
A BEGUILE WITH WIT AND SMART DESIGNS
B WHEN YOU CRAFT A TRIOLET
Cooyright © Wendy Laharnar 2002
---------------------------------------------------
How I wrote this Triolet
Jung, archetypes/ tarot, synchronicity
shadows and dragons
A Triolet
The Seeker
A Distorted by shadow, his lamp lights the way
B For she who wends inward through trees.
a She encounters fierce dragons contorted in play.
A Distorted by shadow his lamp lights the way.
a In dread she lies hidden till thoughts to her stray
b that fear in all truth is, she suddenly sees,
A distorted by shadow. His lamp lights the way
B for she who wends inward, through trees.
Tree - the archetypal symbol of life and knowledge in both the conscious and unconscious realms. Interaction with the tree brings a type of mythic boon where the physical and the sacred are united.