Aria Ligi

Aria Ligi Poems

Some held a mass at her grave-
Petals strewn on the mild lave.
Granite-rose a gray façade,
Interred within where she strode,

I am on my knees before them,
Yet, they remain strangely unaware
They are driven by sonar,
The redolent aromas of roses, lilies and honeysuckle

The goodness of his heart was set,
An azure, domed cabochon
Not faceted, simple
Enthroning us, in his stolidness

There is a litany for the dead;
The pine box, the urn,
The eyes dilated on the anodized plate growing wider
Bubble domed tearless sacs, buckshot in the afterglow;

Do you hear me when I call, and know that is all;
All I came to do- Hear tenderly, and know we are one,
Behind the rise and the set of the sun.
We are subsumed in this finite skin,

Do the trees dance the Saraband?
That bawdy swaying, undulating Couru?
Do they move in poetic refrains
Ethereal and celestial


His fingers read my body like Braille, skimming the epidermis
Along the fine downy trail
We are on a scarlet sea
His hands in my mouth, my teeth in his bones,

The dead are everywhere waiting for us to see them
They are in our overpasses and byways
The cervices where sidewalk meets road

Into the night they come,
These purveyors decked in Kevlar, mortar, and silent munitions
They hang their hats on our sadly stooped heads
Smiling inanely, as if expecting the eyes to greet theirs

Oh, prime mother, are you blind to the dross, godly entail, Bequeathed to your progeny.
The subtle subtext lacing that foaming effervescent sea.

This bequest was yours alone to give.

She had dipped her toe in the warm waters of him
After wading and being waylaid for so long
Astride the coastal rim
There was an urgency not felt before;

I kiss you, I wrote my dear sweet mama.
I kiss you tenderly!
Perfidy! Calumny! Lies! Deceit, Intrigues,
Machinations wielded so prettily between parchment

We are flush up to our knees in the downy dew
Of silks, satins and heavy brocades
So much finery flowering within dimpled cheeks
Does he notice my neck leaning in

It is a yearning thing that velvet crimson opening
Steeped in rhythmic waves and ebony silk
Streetlights, stiff as soldiers salute us, then withdraw
Black leather caught their eye calling - card of a criminal

Caramel and taffy, chocolate mint-creams
Sticks of sugar-cane she sucked endlessly
In her Dunk'n' Donuts uniform, lips coated
Fingers caked in confectionary powders

At the precipice of adieu; How do you say it?
Is it pugnaciously?
Or on the bar, silent and yielding

Aria Ligi Biography

Aria Ligi is an award-winning poet who has a great love for history and in particular the English Romantics. Her publications include, but are not limited to, The Scarlett Leaf Review, Z Publication's New York's Best Emerging Poets anthology, Light Journal, and the Australian Times. She has been a frequent guest on Progressive News Network's Blog Talk Radio, and Aeon Byte.)

The Best Poem Of Aria Ligi

Mourning Flies

Some held a mass at her grave-
Petals strewn on the mild lave.
Granite-rose a gray façade,
Interred within where she strode,
A feast of inclusion frescoes on the base relief.

Some held sprays dabbing eyes,
Faux fantasies & sorrowful byes;
Some held her in and prayed for their grief,
Clutching filthsome divots-
Clumps of glass moldered tears wandering ash.

Witticisms escaping lips- smiles twisted,
A dissonance consigned to the riddle,
Her desertion - her ranging from them all,
The self- flying free from her angry vexing pall.

Aria Ligi Comments

Ashlie Allen 28 November 2017

Aria is an outstanding poet who never fails to dazzle me. From her lyrical verses, haunting imagination and her ability to write with such impactful emotion, Aria certainly has a way with words. Each time I read her poetry, I feel as if I am taken to another time. It almost feels like going into a magical world for a brief moment when reading her verses. Aria has a great gift. She is a poet that should be noted in our time.

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