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The Instinct Poems

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The Instinct Poems

or

The

Awakening,

Quickening,

Frustration,

Demise

and

Resurrection

of an

Instinct




by C. K. Garabed



DEDICATION



There are women who can make a fool of a man,

and there are women who can make a man of a fool.

It has been my good fortune

to have romanced the former

but married the latter.


Das ist alles!





Copyright Ó 2001 C.K. Garabed All Rights Reserved



The Instinct Poems

or

The

Awakening,

Quickening,

Frustration,

Demise

and

Resurrection

of an

Instinct




by C. K. Garabed









Tender flower, O! delicate creature:

How enamored is my heart to thee;

In my mem’ry’s bosom will I place thy image

For she hath blessed thee with her kindly glance.












Thou art:

Innocent; lovely; beautiful; fair.

Where can I cease this

If I but breathe thus?

Thought that doth tease-kiss

Tempts to enwreathe us

Heaven-sent; dovely; dutiful; rare;

art thou.










  If I knew
      that we would live again
      in other shape or form

I’d wish to be the radiant sun

  And you,
      an only little flower
      on the dark side of the moon. 










Just a plain girl

Artless beyond measure

Her innocence would move the gods

To question their own pleasure.


To seek her hands my hands inquire,

To seek her lips my lips desire,

But in my heart’s instill’d the fire

To seek her heart and there expire.












If ever there should come the time

When I no longer gaze on thee

‘T will be a grave and heinous crime

Surpassed by Divine memory.











When you cease to be

materially

You will still exist

in my memory.

Question me not how,

I intuitively know

That that memory shall live on

Even after I am gone.









The language of your facial impression

Holds not to me alien elements;

It speaks, and my eyes are attuned the expression

Reaping your soul of its beloved contents.


I worship your pure light, still purer core

Thereby adding my own feeble shadows;

O! earthly beauty, who’ll return no more

I’ll search for you in the flowers of the meadows.











Henceforth shall be my life:

A bountiful record of mem’ries sublime,

Of indelible passions quietly borne,

Cherished in holy and sensitive rhyme

In my Bible of Virtues so recently born.













Great are the moments you’ve spent in my heart

Lost but imprisoned, enshrined in their art

Always inside me wherever I rove

Dwells a bright image, no god could envisage

You can perceive it, if you conceive it

Seething in beauty, imbued with one love.





The beauty of your soul escapes me When with others your company I share; I blame not you nor my estimation It’s personal - I’m glad it’s so.

Futile it is for me to endeavor To put my love into common words, And yet only then do I grasp the boundless Reaches to which my love extends.

The darkness and emptiness of my moral being, Much like that of the universe, Has been filled with your light and its blessed glory: Scattered throughout with suns and stars.

I dare not look into my heart For fear I’ll recognize what’s there; But then I feel that such a change Merely conforms to nature’s law.

Without your knowledge you have entered my soul And left your impression there, ‘Tis like a golden thread throughout Revealed in all my thoughts and actions.

You have made a heaven of my body Where eternally there rests The perfect artist and the perfect image United in fruitful love.








As I gaze on your portrait and ponder your smile

I feel a bright presence about me the while

Enticing me on to remember anew

A dear faithful heart, now I’m smiling too.













My quest for love has led me far astray

And kept me from the very thing I sought;

Revering reason thus I sought to prove

God’s gift of love. The human qualities

And virtues which I paid great tribute to,

Remain ideals to which I must aspire

Except in love, where there’s no moral choice

To guide the heart, but only the unknown.










My soul shall read the quiet depths of love

In all the words that pass those wond’rous lips:

Caressing sounds that softly touch the ear and

Hover, linger on the edge of doom

Ere passing on to dark oblivion,

Like tasted joys that never shall return

Else live apart in love’s eternity.











Like a sunless tree embittered by the recurring frost

of wintry nights

I welcome myself home to the spring of your

glorious dawning.











I pray that someday you and I

May make our way up through the sky

Transcend the earth and ocean too

And found our home up in the blue.


That wish is for the future, dear

But for the present this I pray:

That love should move you bid me near

Ah! please consent with me to stay.










A Turn of Events Anticipated in a Dream


I love the night

It’s calmness brings you near

Though distant you may be;

Your eyes I see

Illumed yet grave with thought

Foretelling some deep sadness

Soon to come

Then like the very night

Creep on in silence

To its secret destiny.







Sigh again and play for me a tune

Else I must rest with thoughts I can’t contain

My sorrow blends with plaintive melody

Take care that you avoid a brighter strain.


Has life so dulled the mind that I should fail

To take a lesson now from my travail?

For music sad and tragic tales are sweet

And love impaled on reality is neat.








Lately I have come to know

Despair in hopeless love

My heart knows well my soul’s desires

Alas, my heart’s not eloquent.


My wishes are quite simple

For they would naught require

But mutually felt desire

And love exchanged for love.






A Study in Metaphor


The cry for mercy meets with cruel disdain

As near the heart the lover’s wont to stray

Not knowing whence he plods his weary way

Nor wherefore tries he sorely to obtain.

He feels the tide of love within him swell

Drowning straight his wits; engulfed in hell

Entreats to her who would command the flood

To stop the wound that freely lets his blood.

His sigh is rent with cold and puerile pride

To crease the plain of love’s apparent ground

Unlike the wind that strews asunder rain

A tender act would fuse the cloven side

But no, no deed comes forth, e’en less a sound

To comfort, soothe away this grossest pain.





Life is strange Love is a mystery Who can fathom the depths of each?

Man is a beast Yet deep in his soul Resides an ideal eternal.

“Oh God!” he cries, “That pain should be.” He seeks in vain the perfect deed.

Side by side And within one another Lie pain and pleasure, love and death.

Despair is here And hope is there But there is here and here is there.








My part I’ve played In life’s mad game And yet my part will never end.

I die today I wake tomorrow You are me still I’m not free.

Oh love in life It seems so real I love ideally, miserable me.

The sages might have said: “He whose heart is faithful Shall know eternal love.”

But the sages really said: “He whose heart is faithful Shall live in misery.”










Look long, my sweet, our castle’s built on sand

Our love dies young, therefore will I; and when

The hour draws near, death takes me by the hand

And leads me straightforth to his solvent den,

Be your love a task so dear unto you

As to place upon my bier sweet flowers

Scented with those tears of grace I once knew.






Dirge


I seek the lonely wayside

I stalk the barren shore

My gloom I cannot cast aside

I care for life no more.


I wake each morn from troubled sleep

To find my heart still sore

And yet I know not how to weep

I care for life no more.


A cruel fate is given me

I’ve lost what I adore

Death alone can set me free

I care for life no more.



Truly I have suffered long enough

And as the darkest hour precedes the dawn

So, too, does my dejected heart despair

When Lo! before me I behold a friend-


As she draws near the world recedes

The high ground falls and I take wings

So long as she my spirit feeds

I have no need of worldly things.


In happy times like these I feel yet sad

To know that farther on there lies an end

To all great times and rare and wond’rous things

As I should think deserved eternal life-

And then the truth of it illumes my brow!

(As many other flashes come and go)

A truth that serves me only for a time:

“But for what was, what is could never be.”







Aspiring Lo! I went my way alone

Like Zarathustra up the mount I fled

Immense, aloft my weary self I shed

Created all anew, did I atone;

Elated thus descended to my throne.