Eddie Imonyatt Poems

Of what entails it, the essence that doth give life its worth. And how to beget it, that intricate secret that be like salt upon broth; once lost and bland. Its sprinkle but to make your days, a thing to behold.

A troubling riddle it is, one that sends my thoughts with a swirl, as round my head they move in a curl. And a ponder its roil leaveth in me, its toil to have my chin seek rest, as atop my knuckle it goes.
Could it be well hidden beneath the veil of power, its ecstatic feel left to those that wield. And their joy being the work of a wand, whose wave has the world snug at their feet.
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Love, a thing of beauty it be. And walk on air you do, if ever your soul it rubs upon, with a touch that be as gentle as one of a moon, that smiles full above a Sea so calm.

And a thing of reverie it makes, your days that be as light as dew that rises in the morning, curling itself up as wisps white and bright, up against a field so lush and green.
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Aloft she is, like a sky clear and blue. And shy is her smile made, by that touching haze, of a cloud so pure and white. Adorn her face it does, with the dazzling glow of a freckle kept in place.
And just like light upon a place dark and cursed, so she does away the ills that seek to plague. Their pull, of millstones upon my back, she scatters away with the ease of wind upon chaff.
Often she steals into my thoughts, with her poise that charms. Her rolling stride much with the guise of a nap that so does tempt, when late in the noon it beckons, but the world to make absent.
Far away she dwells, a town tucked deep in the south, and her presence she only reveals, to those with an eye that discerns. Her discreet ways giving her an allure, of an ancient city forever buried.
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Just before dawn comes into being- that moment when the rhythmic crescendo does rise to a lull- await as we all for that veil that be as dark like never before-by light to become a thing long and ever so gone.


‘Tis the frame of time that solace I find most- calm as it be- much alike a cliff rooted along the Ocean’s path- its face devoid of emotion as it braves the endless batter that be the work of waves.
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