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    AC Benus
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

a Glass Floor Underfoot - 30. Black-Magic Man

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Dämmerung

 

1. Schwarz-Magier

 

So einzig nicht begehre ich die Salbe

Von deiner schönen Hände weichem Druck,

Daß darum ich mein Königreich der Albe

Abtäte, starrer Monde finstern Schmuck.

 

Auch du verschmähtest ja des Denkens Lüge,

Und Phantasie als Kinderspiel und Trug.

Und doch blieb wach dein Wähnen, das Gefüge

Der Nacht zu lösen; Liebe sei genug?

 

---------------------------------

 

 

Gloaming

 

1. Black-Magic Man

 

So singly do I not desire the unguent

Coming from your pleasing hands’ soft pressure,

That I renounce my realm of the white vestment,

Which makes for the rigid moon’s dark pleasure.

 

For you’ve also spurned the lie of thought’s resolve;

Viewed imagination as blind man’s bluff.

Yet your faith keeps vigil, the night’s game to solve,

Shaken loose, asking whole, is love enough?

 

 

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Tyra Kleen Forbidden Fruit (1915)

 

 

 

_

 

Copyright © 2022 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

Wow, do I like this one!  Each line seems to evoke an image or memory, one right after the other, like cinematic quick-cuts. Its two brief stanzas leave me so much to think about. And on top of all this, you attached a fantastic painting. Thank you!

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I also find the painting fascinating.  The poem spoke to me of the conflicts between my innocence, sensuality and learned faith as a youth.  It left me remembering my first experiences with my sexuality and the moral conflict I had to resolve.  Fantastic poem.

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Were it not for the painting, I wouldn't begin to understand the poem.  It's not a function of a picture being worth a thousand words, it's rather that, for me, the two make a whole that neither half fulfills on its own.

Edited by Backwoods Boy
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21 hours ago, Parker Owens said:

Wow, do I like this one!  Each line seems to evoke an image or memory, one right after the other, like cinematic quick-cuts. Its two brief stanzas leave me so much to think about. And on top of all this, you attached a fantastic painting. Thank you!

Thanks, Parker. This poem seems to me just like you describe it: a series of scenes building on top of one another.  The use of the negative "So einzig nicht begehre ich" (So singly do I not desire) in the first time puts the poem firmly on mysterious ground.

Thanks again  

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15 hours ago, raven1 said:

I also find the painting fascinating.  The poem spoke to me of the conflicts between my innocence, sensuality and learned faith as a youth.  It left me remembering my first experiences with my sexuality and the moral conflict I had to resolve.  Fantastic poem.

Thanks, Terry. Once again, I think you and I have pretty close interpretations of this poem. The "Black-Magic Man" of the title is the priest...? Or, could he perhaps be the one making the priest doubt his catechism of love's rejection?

Thanks again for reading, and I'll tell you this is the first of three very intriguing poems appearing under the heading of "Gloaming"

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15 hours ago, Backwoods Boy said:

Were it not for the painting, I wouldn't begin to understand the poem.  It's not a function of a picture being worth a thousand words, it's rather that, for me, the two make a whole that neither half fulfills on its own.

Thank you, Backwoods Boy. This poem is the first in a small collection of three gathered under the Dämmerung title. The next one is called "Standing-Stone" and also seems to hearken back to a primeval "innocence," when love was not yet labeled as complex. Please stay tuned for that :)  

Edited by AC Benus
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