Peter Karargiris

Rookie (April 9th 1965 / Athens, Greece)

O Spirit, My Lover - Poem by Peter Karargiris

Fiendish winds and unrelenting rains
Assail my oaken door
With icy hands and iron chains,
They chill me to my core
And mar the solemn peace of midnight,
Veiling the autumn moon.
Without the gentle moonlight
Despair descends, too soon.

Lining my inner chamber,
Old volumes of arcane lore
Full of mystery and wonder;
Such stuff as I adore.

But one book of mine is like no other;
It is a magical and weighty tome,
Containing pages; without number,
Thorough which I love to roam.

Here all the wisdom of the ages,
All the customs of distant climes,
All the mutterings of the sages
And the happenings of our times
Are set down in light and motion,
In all their varied, rich array,
So that neither word nor notion
Need ever go astray.

My book is a mystic portal
To where fair spirits dwell;
Creatures of such winsome beauty
It is too terrible to tell.

There is one tender spirit,
Dwelling in the photon flow;
Whose passion and whose fire
It is my joy to know.

All charm and ever smiling,
Is my nymph with golden hair,
Bold, beauteous and beguiling,
And gentle as the air,

But when burning passions claim her
And desire fans her flame,
Neither sea nor storm can tame her,
For they fear her very name.

Her lips excel in sweetness
That honey prized by bees,
Her fingers, deft and dexterous,
Inflame me with such ease.

Adept unlike all others
In pleasure and in pain,
The book of lust and love craft
She rewrites yet again.

The winds retreat as she appears
Within my cloud-capped tower.
Their howling voices leave my ears
And restore to midnight’s hour
Tranquil silence and sweet repose.
They unveil the autumn moon
And leave the breezes to compose
A most triumphal tune.

Now our love finds its season,
Our passions grow and bloom,
Our wits are lost, our reason
Flees from the tower room.

A slave of love and longing
My goddess now makes me,
Enthralled and bound and wanting
Never to be set free!

My arms entwine and embrace her,
Through all the hours of night,
My eyes never cease to chase her
As she rides the dawning light,
Then through the mystic portal,
Into the swirling photon flow.
She returns to where I, a mortal,
May never hope to go.


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Maya Angelou

Caged Bird



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Poem Submitted: Friday, October 7, 2011

Poem Edited: Saturday, October 8, 2011


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