Painter of galaxies
She was spotted on the edge of an aura standing upon
circles of glowing gazes icy as azure diamonds
in her palms brushes wide as other milky ways.
A giantess of vaporous glory armed with infinite hues
she swings to the end of the universe
flowery traces of innumerable rainbows.
She is a creator manager of distances reaching to
unknown corners where a nucleus pulsates gently
while membranes collapse in sweet earthquakes.
Mad woman endowed with unfathomable kindness
floating inside a dress sown with comets, stars and
darkest moons, she swirls as a world comes alive.
Thrusting colors upon invisible ramparts of mists
her task must not end for all things to go on
living for she is the source to continue into the deep.
Exploring the prison
A story is often told of the old citadel
built of steel, rock and perished sweat.
Ghosts laden with heavy memories
lament under the regretful weight
of existences past into oblivion.
Curious little souls venture twixt the thorns
colorful knights errant armed with giggly souls.
They leave joys of a gentle summer mornŐ
to escape beyond the ramparts of the mighty castle.
Ancient floors feign a scream as they walk
holding onto hopes of a new fancy chapter
for a story to fall upon enlightened ears.
Scarcely caressing crannied walls they explore
squinting to capture the imagined vision
filled with dresses and armors of yesteryear.
Screams from another realm speak a fresh tale
men in shackles, rags and tears of coal
once visitors to a similar playground they cry.
It is too late for those reluctant tenants
yet their spirits remain hovering above the darkness
Cautious explorers continue on this noble quest
they seek the hint of a light into the deep
the only treasure they will ever cherish.
The eternal residents make way for their guests
bowing to the living for their eyes still shine
eager to hold even a dim candle to their legend.
Rains in my sun
It rains in the heart if my sun
fumaroles venture to the surface
as if calling for mercy from the surveyor.
They wave with their shy little souls
endless in their race for eternity
for the storms persist within.
Rivers freeze in the depths of my star
born of a flame shunned by a tempest
hopeful perhaps for prolonged desire.
Sinuous of blueish streaks as cooling lava
they will rest in their bed of cutting swords
dreaming of the next fiery eruption.
Time comes to a standstill in the cavern
veins of thunderous wishes no longer flow
filled with the thick substance of the dying.
Voracious hurricanes hover below
yet no one suspects the rolling clasps
beneath the glowing shield of a grander dawn.
She, the monument
Stoic she stood gazing in fear at what once was
A giant towering over the mangled dwarf her pleasure had become
Tears frozen on the cheek icy blue as marble upon the tomb.
A slight tremble moved the gentle frame in the hurricane
She could not budge a fiber in her terror of dawn
Only a dress of white satin dared tease her soul.
Ground to fleshy crimson morsels fed to the arid desert
Her soft chest had been ripped apart and shredded to pain
By the fury of a destiny without care for her soft breath.
She remembered images of carnage in deadly wars
Now she lay a corpse at the hand of a former servant
Flesh on fire in an ocean of the rusty nectar he drank.
Her breast full she only longed to explode her grief
Calm, she remained pondering the girl she had been
Tears frozen she cried deep within her heart.
Sowing a new world
Giving birth was a daily routine for the gentleman;
the Earth bears witness to the creation he left behind
forgotten shells of new worlds never quite finished.
Fallen hazelnuts mix with the seed of another spring
sparrows watch in wonderment at the wealth their gift
from harbor to garden, a bounty nourishes a paradise.
His secret garden of contemplation restful for the plum
preserved from the strangerŐs eye, a royal site
for the majesty of soul still busy in his art.
A great yard, of peaches, nectarines and grapes
avidly swallows the rays of the august sun
aromas of colorful blossoms carry their dear essence.
The domain of a painter, vast with the grandeur of a heart
carefully gridded rows of his own moments of glee
cherries, beans, peas and pears, smile at this noble kind.
The overhang of his castle often cries in its loneliness
unsure of the presence of the spirit it fills the grounds
with a precious nectar so life perennial always returns.
© Fabrice B. Poussin
Bio: Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.