Painting by Gioacchino Passini‘The Flowers’ and Other Poetry by David Bellemare Gosselin The Society June 9, 2017 Beauty, Poetry 2 Comments The Flowers Upon a morning stroll serene Across many young floral gardens Greeting me on those fields of green Was the red rose who all love pardons. The humming bird about it flutters The bees its sweet soft hues admire But I hear a miser who mutters As storms prepare to unleash their ire. “Beauty is eternal truly,” I heard that beautiful rose say But who can for me find such a beauty Who won’t one day just fade away? I fled and turned back home instead And found there flowers weeping dew; “Don’t let them see you cry,” I said, But they replied “We cry for you.” The Chained Muse Behind the sparkling light in all men’s eyes Across the wide arcade of twinkling skies Lie hidden hopes and dreams of those who died Who wished but not in vain to have tears cried. Their story goes like many who have gone, Yet nameless, still ringeth their clarion: Like the wind that carries the trumpet’s call, Or the waves that take us through life’s falls. So must the smallest flicker our guide become Our only guide in life through the maelstrom, Like glimpsing the light of a nameless star Who leads us to ‘n fro places afar. Such things as turn men’s sights into a haze May be those things which change our ways, Like that shining light of a nameless star Out in the corner of the skies afar, Which causes us to wonder at the sky As our hearts with the unknown come nigh. Thus wits lie solely in these shapeless skies Whose forms to the eye remain in disguise But light when caught in the corner of one’s eye Across the arcades of the mind’s peaks high That twinkling spec in the eyes of mortals Reminds us all of that immortal; Like that shining light of a nameless star, Out in the corner of the skies afar. The hope and dread of days which lie ahead, Thus makes us wonder in the skies above About the difference of Gods in our stead; For then could mortals know eternal love Never losing sight of ourselves and our stars, But with the fruits of poesie tame mars, Catching the echo of immortal rhymes And rendering our cries of war to chimes. For then would we have time to change our ways Resolves mistakes and catch eternal rays Or should we suffer eternal regret That an end to our woe is never met? Such are the thoughts that burn in brains of mortals As on this muting path our life of quarrels. For if a man could gain poetic fire Like a mortal steal Apollo’s lyre, Could he send from his burdened lonesome post On earth, that which the seeming prophets host Who’s echoes reach the peaks of heaven and earth And seal the graves of pestilence and dearth. For if a man could taste his fruits desire To be not burned but drink from the fire If he could bite into the apple immortal He would on earth have found heavens portal: Could man thus cheat his own mortal death To live and sing after his final breath Becoming Godlike in his mortal skin With Godlike sparks to scorch his coil thin? David Bellemare Gosselin is a student in classics and languages in Montreal. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Related 2 Responses Satyananda Sarangi June 10, 2017 Dear David, both the poems are deeply thought provoking and unique in their own ways. ‘The Chained Muse’ has to make into my favourites list of poems . It is sublime and takes one on a ride to the days of yore where the essence of life was what mattered. As I was reading it, I felt as though I were sitting on the riverbank in the countryside while music from a distant flute was soothing my ears. More power to thy creativity. Reply David Hollywood June 12, 2017 A marvelous ethereal journey in The Chained Muse and yet always tightening our conscience, and with regard to The Flowers; that was wonderful representation of a sudden mourning in the last verse. Thank you. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.