Tuesday, 1 November 2016


Plain not for the fading Star, this blessed Season;
instead, shine your soul’s beacon
upon that nascent orblet burrowed in the spiral
of its timeless Within.
Invoke that eternal Flame, pilgrims,
to its deathless whorls bequeath your treasures,
these distilled drops of truest joy
your inner eye weeps,
that no mortal heart could ever claim.
Let these rise as plumed jewels
into Dark's spangled Bell, its liquescent tongues
this late Autumn Night,
sounding no sorrowful knell, but speaking healing,
repose, the springing forth of renewed Light.
Did not the skies ring gold through eventide,
ere the gloaming fell
upon shorn pastures and browning dells?
Shall mere flesh lament that which
our Mother honours and the Elements praise,
for the Universe so ordained?
We, who dispute the heavens' every sign,
and seek Tyche's hand to man's favour to incline,
could not fathom the whorls of divine Design.
Nay, we tread a limitless path through Time,
Beginning to sacred Beginning,
for who, votaries of Life, would ponder Death,
when the Infinite wills no end?

© 2016 Lilium Candidum
Lily's Verse

Image: http://time.com/4213747/star-birth-chamaeleon-complex

Wednesday, 19 October 2016


The winnowing Wind pauses in mid-flow,
scattering her soliloquy
to waking stars, for the Oak would speak,
exhort his every root and branch
to minister to a gentler Light,
to the Harvest Moon that holds the Night.
I stumble into the now still scent
of wildflowers she bears through Seasons
that know no frontiers,
their fluid portraits born of Twilight's Eye,
dissolving each Dawn
into a Sky that wears wings.

Time returns a lost memory, a triton shell
that yielded the sound of its Sea to a Soul
that crept into its chosen crypt
under the lamp, for to preserve this treasure
of lives agone in deepest darkness.
She, the Artist in my dreams, wields a vision
I shall never possess.
Nay, her renderings must be and live
in a lapis mist as an airy gem, for my heart
waits by a ring of stone.

A falling leaf catches Autumn's first tune;
a golden harp string thrums
through the tremulous silver Dark,
abrim with voices I do not hear, yet know.
The Season grows,
moment by copper moment, into the ellipse
of my own Pearl Island of inspiration
in an ink-dark Eternity.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Source: commons.wikimedia.org
Artist: Samuel Palmer

Wednesday, 31 August 2016


A white calm rests upon the tumult;
Life and Death coalesce
for a moment, arcing as a new vault
over an ocean of broken breaths.
Memory's silver tides await
a forgotten Angel;
she, who once strode upon the Light,
extends a bruised wing
in the dark, mirroring the keeling
of petals in the wind,
of leaves on sky-tinted waters,
echoing the life-kindling sussurus
of the eternal Fount.
The whisper of wounded white pinions
waken the warrior upon shorn earth,
this valiant victor 
who sheds tears too long forsaken
where a child cast her joy
into the Sun, where a hermit tended
the bleeding Dove,
where a mystic blessed
marauding brigands, where a priestess'
invocation rent the heavens.
A new Dawn tints the sighing River,
as, in his reflection,
the hero glimpses the fallen.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Source: www.the-athenaeum.org
Artist: Odilon Redon

Monday, 15 August 2016


A changeling light streamed across the forest floor;
flowing, pearly fire bathed my yearning brow.
A Knowing I knew not I possessed spoke,
the voiceless voice of my fervent seeking that Time
may not claim.
"Not merely Moon echoing Sun, but a cosmic agency
consecrated to Beginnings
revives your Soul and Eye, this Night.
This Poet of the Hour and Prophet of the ages ordains
that you here meet your newer self
touched by radiant Hands that shape eternal skies.
You, who tread a changeful path
to impermanent calm, must forswear illusions,
your fears cast into foregone currents,
as the tree that surrenders its shadow of the moment
to the moving river.
Shall tomorrow's tides receive your mortal path,
your earthly endeavours colour some distant Dawn?
Would you command the reed of the Infinite?
Swear allegiance to the Light that powers your vessel,
upon this shore make a sacred vow, 
incunabulum of the deepest transformation.
Sole with the diminuition of vanity shall your truest, 
purest journey commence."

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: John Moore of Ipswich
Source: www.pinterest.com

Monday, 8 August 2016


A crackle glass Moon weeps
her broken rays
over the silver-blue nocturne
of the woodland stream,
upon the sediment
of our childish dreams, sisters.
My heart drums alone,
receiving this hour's legacy,
a beauty that at once
wounds the soul
and renders it whole.
Yet, my solitary path shall trace
an eternal question,
its answer in a sky that in vain
seeks your eye.
My breath I bound to a vow
spoken in secret
to these woods, where I invoked
the resonance of earth
amid ghosts of yellow garlands
and flowered trails.
Lines and curves of violet ink
emerge upon my page as though
from a waking dream,
stringing together memories of
leaf, branch and blossom,
moments of life, laughter and death. 
These, I shall inearth 
under our willow, for our Summers 
shall not live in another’s dream.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Source: commons.wikimedia.org
Artist: Joan Brull i Vinoyles

Thursday, 4 August 2016


An unrest like music afire
lifts the mist,
stirring the silenced Soul
to speak, to call to the gold
upon the horizon,
that it may seek
the window of its wound.

Despair's blade dulls in the
hush of the half-light,
as an Angel's tears fall upon
the salt of bloodied ground,
that Earth may weep
no more for the fallen.

A child regards the Abode
of her deepest fears,
tracing the blear edge of the
Dark Moon drifting past
veils and starlight, loving Her
whose shadowed hues
they impute to malediction
and misfortune.

Under a searing Summer Sun,
the parched land rises
to skies suffused with hues
of a harvest it alone sees,
awaiting fluid footfalls across
arid heavens.

A trustful emplacement within
the darkest Dark
prepares to receive the Light.

A rite of Breath at Life's altar,
affirmation of its rhythm -
this is Hope,
and the Spirit's elevation
its consummation.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Bela Čikoš Sesija
Source: galerijadeci.hr

Saturday, 30 July 2016


The mystery of Life she expounds
to your inmost flame;
your vessel she blesses, that it may
heed Time's decree.
No mortal affliction shall impede
your pathway to her favour;
the deaf may hear her tones,
the blind, see her light,
the mute, chant her praise,
the lame, sway in her radiance,
for she moves the Soul to
hear and speak, to dance and sing.
Her whisper whelms
the tyrant's roar, her touch enfeebles
the barbs of man's contempt.
Her tints she rains upon your domain,
even upon shores of your unbelief
that repel tides of Hope.
Her voice you would discern
in the moonlight tinkling upon the rill;
its silver tones take
unto your heart. Seek her, as the lily
that lines the grave
looks up to the Sun she no more sees.
Call to her in silent worship,
as a swan to the one rainbow that
knows its death-song.
In dreams, journey to your Spirit's birth,
to where Truth's golden shadow falls,
for, upon its eternal crest,
Beauty renews herself.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Source: www.the-athenaeum.org
Artist: John Duncan

Monday, 25 July 2016


The Calm after the Storm rises about
my bruised and broken form
as a stone-white Temple,
a shadow-lit space for contemplation
where the very air revels in an
inviolable Stillness,
and the raw, ravaging emptiness in my
soul transmutes into the echo
of a faraway ringing within the Silence.
In the ampleness of this Hollow,
Pathway to Rebirth, Womb of Healing,
my wretched spirit discerns
the voice of the Void,
my pulse, the pull of a Star
that breathed gold where I now kneel.
My flame grows
into its misty Orb, dissolving into the
dusky air-scape that
fuses Time, Being and Memory.
For a deathless moment, I burn gold,
guiding the rise and fall
of the Wheel, leading the Seasons.
Here, where Death hunts Life
and prating stifles Wisdom, I seek Home
in the blazing blue of Mystery's halls,
for, by their pure light,
Elements, Nature and Aether unite,
for to lend our words meaning.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source: tvorchestvof.blogspot.com
Artist: Rafał Olbiński

Tuesday, 19 July 2016


Melody and chime reverent combine,
bursting into light,
not a sun-kindled blaze,
but one wakened by a tinder of Dawn
upon an altar wrought of
worshipful notes and greening Hope.

The Faith I forsook in fervid fury floats
upon a cyan waft,
beaming its gold to Apollo's height,
calling fearful fledglings to flight.
And one feathered flame,
Source and creation allied,
harmony and horizon on wing,
pipes a blue-grey strain that brings
forth restoring rain,
new hues to fading Summer blooms
that trace the last parched verso
of the Season's chronicle.

In a crystal drop dwells the grace that
shall crown some Autumn's
first sheaf, blessing the Circle,
though its journey be brief.
I bide, ungrateful, still, upon the Path, 
nor Hope, nor Faith in my heart,
in hands the Poet's tome
vast as his spirit, its heart open to Home.
The sounds of his soul 
I shall shall take for my victuals,
the sky's outpourings for my drink.
Sole such shall guide my steps
to substance and strength.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source: www.pinterest.com
Artist: Vladimir Kush

Thursday, 14 July 2016


The shadow of a lost Voice converged
with my own, as I ran
to catch the distance, the next drop of
a dying Sun. Fear propelled
my unreckoning self, one that perceives
not Life within stasis.

A blue mist parted, unveiling a dream of
roses that await a child's wonder
upon a ground green with legacies of
blooming and birth denied,
with thoughts she dared not think.

Still, reminiscences were not forbidden
her. In such she revelled,
marking the hours of Night with rising
decans beneath the seamless presence
of the shimmering Eternal.

The Voice, no more a shadow, spoke its
ageless bequest:
"Heed those who have seen, who see,
the last robin merge
with the last branch, for they tell of
a wholesome transformation
that needs not man's inconstant hands
nor his courage-less heart."

"They, who have heard, who hear,
a Fire cut the wind, the crimson faltering
of fledgling wings,
the music of infant feet stilled,
shedding tears of blood for Innocence
defiled, know of an airless Dark."

"A thousand Suns could not sate its
black thirst. Nay, it shall claim
Flow and Tides, till word, note, step and
gaze no more touch Mirror and Eye."

"Still, silver spheres of Hope and Peace
beckon in conjunction.
Earth bends to the shape of Silence,
Nature, to the Mystery of Being.
Shall you, mortal children, as your Mother,
unbar the Portals to Light?"

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium candidum

Source: www.pinterest.com
Artist: Edgar Barclay

Saturday, 9 July 2016


Stone and spate marked my birth.
Still, I grew to know leaf
and butterfly, even as the ground
swallowed my feet.
Unfurling fronds of tenderest green
set free my paths,
feathering against Autumn's
variegated crystal mirror.
Scarlet aves streak across October's
changing parchment
as bleeding arrows, scrivening lost,
lightless hours, my pulse,
upon a breeze that shall not hear me.
Of earth I am not, nor of water,
nor of fire, nor of sky.
I am a child of the sleepless aether.
Blossoms of journeys past
slumber in the chill forest air;
a spark of trellis of Suns and Moons
awaits me in celestial spheres.
Father's Summer roses, 
dead Stars of coral and palest pink,
lie within the Mystic's soul,
layered between his memories
of joy and sorrow, 
of ascension and vanquishment.
In winged dreams I shall ride 
the updraught of his essence into a
distant memory,
into a moment of bright birth,
that I may find life amid my shadows.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Source: www.pinterest.com
Artist: René Magritte

Thursday, 30 June 2016


A tearless cry is your first silent pledge,
the silver key that unlocks
the doorway to breath, that you may
yield to Fate's Circle.
This herald of your path's commencement,
your newborn wail,
falls through the Sandglass' neck,
raising your spirit into the Now,
into a communion with the Moment
your youthful steps shall forswear,
as you contemplate its fore and aft,
for such is a mortal's wont.

Ponder not Time's flow, but his ubiquity,
for this spiral deity reigns
beside his God.
Aye, he receives the priestess' orison;
his Eye follows the mystic's journey;
his Voice punctuates the poet's praise.
Resonance of their devotion,
pathway and art he gives unto their skies,
that they may bide infolded
in azure troves. These they shall rain upon
hearts that lament the world's tumult,
for such are sensible of the Love
that transforms the spirit's peregrination
into profoundest expressions
of hand and eye.

Therefore, weep, not in despair, but that you
may breathe anew, as an infant
in Time's own arms reaffirming your pact
with Being, with its seeking.
Gather unto you ancient echoes,
for these promise an easing of the Disorder
that dulls Life's silver flow.
Beauty and Truth shall prevail, mayhap under
Stars yet unseen, where you shall
tread plains of joy and sorrow alike in gratitude.
Time's passage shall not measure
your course, nor the whirling of Earths pause
your vessel. Your gifts bestowed
upon the Source shall mark the rhythm
of your soul's eternal flight.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Source: www.pinterest.com
Artist: William Louis Sonntag

Tuesday, 21 June 2016


It was not the clock that
claimed your breath, 
though its relentless ticking
closed as a vise
around your throat.
No spring-driven beat could
silence the echo
of Life's pulse, nor a synthetic
clangour efface 
the immortal poesis
of an ever present past.

Death's talons could not mar
the face of tomorrow
that shines amid those, 
whose sole endeavour is to
appease an emptiness
that holds illusions of meaning
and rhythm,
a Reality that scars their flesh 
and steals their years,
the hours they choose to fill
or kill with shadows
and hollow sounds.

Earth's palette is my claviature,
the moonflower's breath
my metronome, for therein
dwells Time's essence.
My dreams shall not lie 
stifled, concealed, 
beneath dried blooms 
in a book of moments.
No, they are indiscernible from
woodland and ocean,
dawn and twilight,
from Nature's very heartbeat.
Hopeful utterances, 
the pace of my thoughts,
the wing beats of my soul,
these shall measure my path.
My flame shall strike
discordant chimes in the vault
of your false temple.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source: www.pinterest.com
Artist: Vladimir Kush

Monday, 20 June 2016


From a shell of vaporous nacre
you emerge,
Pearl of this Solstice eve,
illuming the tenebrous lane that
leads the spirit to equilibrium.
As gossamer your argent balm
alights upon the Season's golden arc,
as the Muse's Reflection and Eye
that ensoul the marble,
ere the Artist's hand shapes
a fluid stillness
from its veined mosaic.

Your mystical ivory hand realigns,
rejoins disclaimed, broken strands,
guiding kindred souls
to the shoreline of your liquid sanctum,
that they may find their mirrors
by the light of your own.
I would offer the blessing onward,
fair goddess, 
rendering your luminous precepts
in words and hues, that my memory
of your Grace may gladden
hearts yet unborn.

I shall measure the passage of this rare
light in heartbeats,
for hours could scarce hold the silver
of such remembrance,
for each ray is a messenger, 
immense, boundless,
as an ungated moment of easement
flowing eternally through
Heart, Circle and Home.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: FISHING PARTY (edited)
Source: commons.wikimedia.org
Artist: Fitz Henry Lane