Love Poem: You'Re a Monarch When It Rains
Richard H. Dunsany Avatar
Written by: Richard H. Dunsany

You'Re a Monarch When It Rains

Pretenders in the mouth like lemons.
Hamartia.

Is wishing
Denying?
Do I
Deny You?

A dirge by the pier
is the darkness I hear
when You are not here,
when I tell myself
I will always fear.

Yet You visit, still,
my lightless room
and the Breath of Life
permeates perfectly...

You're a monarch when it rains,
yet I cannot believe
that through Your Windowpane
You conceive
me
in my grievous hive mind You conceive
me
at Your side
eternally.

You're a healing Psalm unsold;
one timeless Video;
You command the bass and volume,
and never does it fawn You,
on the Stare-ee-oh
as violet beach radio waves
yield black lung therapy
outside Your Window of Living Stars,
far beyond these gray droplets of Now; shards of glass
that threaten our lifeblood
and pummel our lives,

Pummel our lives like:

"Dangle hearths of cooling firelight before my eyes;
dangle the gun out of reach: your demise,
for I advise
how you cut off my tongue.
It is a gift
till it screams in your hands:
'It is time again to boomerang
a black whale! an actor's life!
a wife awaits
below,
the wife is 
Below,

welcoming Icarus.'"

Then when it rains,
I pour, 
defeated along the shore,
believing that I am alone,
forgetting what once was evermore
beyond my second heart,
this deceitful heart
that is a fool forever
without Your Music,
the Music that gave way to the heart
of the deepest connection I'd ever known
untouchable absolute unhindered wild
wild wildebeest of the Silver Forest
wild Beauty taming cyclones
staying the hand of storms
North Sea uproar quieted...

You are the Muse of my jungle 
as a sunrise kissing
the lightning-charred tree;
the One who sits and stares, sits and stares...
whispers lovely tufts of care:

"A well sprang forth of your indigo eye,
As winter's ballad above our sky
Hums cooling round as diamond sound
Alights and sighs when evil dies.

Across the Lake of Acquiescence,
Duty-bound in Hill's a Pleasance
Known to all and to ourselves:
A Gilded Fire's jubilance delves."

Here is the weather: it is physical.

Here is the symphony: it is spiritual.

Of the latter 
You are forever,
and always will Your existence 
stave off and laugh 
at the hand of Reap,
And bring The Smile 
to this soldier's 
broken mirror face,
so that he may always proclaim:

"You're a Monarch when it Rains.
If I held the key at one time, 
I was blind to the ant and her ways.
If I claim an olden grimoire sublime,
I am the sleaze in my wretched groove haze.
East-west gleaming amber gaze
reveals Heaven."