To Illume

To illume

Winter on your Back

Nothing is heard or seen but sap and leaves.
Every soul wears fervency on its sleeves.
Minds are filled with the prior summer’s eves…
God reaches for the white thread as He weaves…

The Smell of Winter’s calling, echoes lost beyond the seas. Unambiguous falling, of frosted angels will please—
A multitude of children, soon to bask in th’ icy air. Yet to some winter’s barren;
Just a busy, wet affair.
Oh,
Winter
Oh,
Winter

The smell of winter has come back—

It’s Cold
Crisp
But with solace warm,
Enlightening but frightening
Inciting a storm.

It’s damp,
Dry,
Defying the norm
Unyielding but wielding
Power to transform

The Earth
To silver…
To white…
To gaseous winter’s birth

Sifting through humid vapors—
permeating through our doors—
repelled by flaming tapers—
the smell of winter still soars—
Diffusing through the moonlight;
finding solace in the trees;
white conquering the black night—under the guise of the breeze—!
A stir—sleep or awaken—what could be at the gateway? Autumn is now forsaken! I can’t see I cannot say.
­Winter
I can’t see—I cannot say.
Winter
I can’t see—I cannot say!
Winter on your back!

The Earth…
Is changing…
Winter…
Now claims its gloried birth!
Its gloried birth!

She illumes

Ebony hair, volcanic velvet, floats upon her face,
which simmers when I see her—all bright fibers interlace

Her laugh a dimpled carpet, carries me throughout the skies,
so light and true—and happy—that it brings upon me sighs.

Her songs conceived celestial, paragons of the soul.
She illumes my thoughts and feelings, as fire flushes coal.

Her stride a gust of beauty, like lust devoid of sin:
a choir of God’s angels, glazed in molten ivory skin.

See her step and ponder often, like hymns beyond the west—
I question, she answers, our torpid gazes locked, and blessed.

Eyes, primordial embers like Prometheus proffered to man—
so hazel as the quaking autumn
telling as a fleeting dream
dark as pearls from abyssal water
as they spark and shine and gleam

I have written all my life—poems, fables, truths, the world—
always what I felt I wrote, but never about a girl.

But now this girl is what I feel and all I can seem to dream.
Upon this page is exhaust—just a crush’s beating steam.

I love, I think I truly love her—fear coevolves with bliss.
I pray that I might someday ask her, and that we may dance, and kiss.

She denies

Ebony hair floats on her lips glossed like phosphorescent streams
She smiles, compliments me, and none was what it seems.

A lot she says she likes me, in each and every way
But due to introversion, relationships must stay.

No! I love her! She illumes!
No! Now tears come out like fumes!

Ah! I love her! She illumes!
Ahh! Yet love has failed to bloom.

Ahh! I love her! She illumes!
Illumes and seems to love me, yet fears the commitment maybe in the future
NO! Never! For hope hath failed me!
Now I must move on!
‘You didn’t do anything wrong’

She clings to my mind like hope under tyranny,
Clings to my eyes like light!
Our last hug echoes like a dosage of ecstasy
Within my core shells ignite!

Ah! I love her! She illumes!
Ahh! A future is entombed.

Ah! Forget her! You’re consumed!
Ahh! I love her! She illumes!

Ahh I love her! She illumes!
Illumes and likes me yet denies me I can’t escape her maybe in the future
NO! Never! She was uncertain!
So I must move on!
days and Nights egregiously long!

Panorama’s gray, glazed and glutted with weakness
For her light can’t guide my way!
She renders me bed-bound—I lie awake sleepless.
Hope desiccates like clay.

It’s wet, cold,
I lack solace, torn
to fibers scorched by loving torched and I weep forlorn.

My life—
has not changed!
Winter’s white withers into gray..
All into gray.

Caleb Gordon, Age 16, Grade 11, Berkeley Carroll School, Silver Key

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