Monday, 28 March 2016


My untamed wanderer's spirit
could not comprehend 
the hidden language of your
Angel's heart, sister.
Yet, my seeking eyes read your
own, each one by turn 
beaming a different light,
as twin Moons,
their paths and phases ever
in defiant discord,
calling forth divergent tides
to the secret shores
of your thoughts, mingling into
an ominous rhythm
that trammelled your sky's blue
with stifling echoes
of peril and perdition,
that cast you, torn and bleeding, 
upon softest ivory sands.
Phrases hovered upon your lips
as Spring's swallowtails,
stopping upon your tongue as 
notes frozen in unyielding Silence.
And I, who worship each spirant
as a Universe,
threading sound and import
onto an endless strand of rapture,
assayed in vain to construe
your muteness.
In dreams, the Silence of your circle
floods my veins. 
Light and darkness alike are
our prison house, sister.
I would know which one is 
the greater Gift.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Joan Brull i Vinyoles

Friday, 25 March 2016


This Day rose grey, greyer than
the Spring that was
your spirit's Winter, sister.
Once, we were an assemblage
of Hope's declaration,
her own beaming bouquet
of blossom and melody,
delight and dawn, thriving amid
thwarted aspirations
and granite fumes branded souls
effused in an eternal
hecatomb to their gilded God.

Life prevailed, flourished, revelled,
in a sullied realm
Death had claimed, for we lived
our circle's Spring
as carefree cascades of colour
in the blackened brume,
impatient to glean every jewelled
hue of the Season's bounty.
Yet, a malevolent moment stole
our Sun, eclipsed the moon,
quenched the stars,
bidding the bleak air blight your
blood, stifle your flame.

Solitary feet tread a path that
once seemed evergreen,
strewn with shades and strands
of our Spring, spectres that
comfort one who will not submit
to the dark. A smoky veneer
stains the mourning garb that is
my second skin.
I now seek vernal tints in words,
sister. I shall return to sleep,
to dreams of Iris and Lark,
Rillet and Coral.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: DREAM
Artist: Joan Brull i Vinoyles

Wednesday, 23 March 2016



Twilight's purples softly steal over
spattered hedgerows,
creeping over spangled meadows
into deepest green shadows. 
Her somnific murmur,
betwixt a wisp and a whisper,
lulls sated bees into slumber.
Sun-dipped irises sighing sink into
the thrumming gloaming,
when a sudden draft tears into the
blue-grey haze of my reverie,
snapping the silver-gold thread 
that binds my spirit to a
distant Springtide memory of lilac
breaths and wild rose wreaths.
This Season's rainbows shed tears;
your unheard cries are
my clarion call, your graves mark
the miles upon my course. 
Your broken dreams I shall gather,
for to frame new bastions
beyond my bleeding walls.
Do your souls haunt forsaken paths
that beckoned beneath
cyan skies of sunshine and promise?
May that which you spurned in life
embrace you in death. 
I shall seek the voice of the Muse
amid our ruins.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: George Lawrence Bulleid

Saturday, 19 March 2016


Secrete the waxing Moon
behind your plumage, sage one,
sacred bird of Athena,
you, who read the dark to all
who blunder sightless,
lightless, through its labyrinths.

Selene's Springtide strophe sails
upon sapphire waves 
beneath Nyx's spangled veils,
surging, rippling, cascading, plays
amid merging drapes
of blessed darkness and light.

Such colours the heavens sparkle
upon this vernal Night!
Nameless hues of distant Springs 
Iris would weave into
her own resplendent archway
mock my pallid muteness.

Nay, my words shall not desecrate
this sapphire splendour
showering argent parings upon
my prone form through
the goddess' languid leafage.
My stillness I offer to you, Chloris.

Silver shivers abrade silenced eyes 
awaiting brine and sleep;
peace and repose amid fragments
of brightest blue ballasting 
white-winged skeins; flight through
the calm of deceiving dreams.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source:

Friday, 18 March 2016


Here, Light does not take wing;
each moment stands
unmoving, shackled to a shadow, 
a burden of mundane tides
destined to merge into oblivion,
that eternal resting place
of sorrow unseen
and broken melodies forsaken,
for they meet no heartstrings. 

Springtide cast a wounded thrush
with cheery cherry blossoms
into my cupped palms,
its song adrift in perfumed breezes,
weeping upon vernal colours.
Tears and Sun
veiled the baleful borderland
where bloodied wing merged into
papery pink petals, a tender kinship
of waning life threads.

My reddened palm, sweet passerine,
was your Plain of Death,
a fitting interim nest of unwilling
human flesh and blood that laments 
every breath and beat
of Life's pulse. Solace awaits in the
flight of my soul. 
Wherefore would one such as I 
incarnate into the tangible?

The spirit seeks its likeness, it is said.
Shall you and I, gentle ave,
evermore hold the sky in wing and eye?

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source:
Artist: Basil Ede

Tuesday, 15 March 2016


Upon the allaying course of Night,
my solivagant spirit
blooms beneath the radiance
of countless faraway suns, 
their brilliant gold rendered silver
upon the path of Time.
What nepenthe do nocturnal skies
rain, lending the astrolater's
soul a glow that nor Eos nor Chloris
shall ever know, that nor Day
nor Summer shall ever bring forth? 
What rune does the Great Alchemist
chant upon magical herbs
sole He could cull from boundless
stelliferous plains?
Does He tread slower upon a darker,
quieter Earth, looking upon
celestial shrines tracing the eons
in deference to the gods, to Eternity?
A winged moment descends
from a moonbow into my vessel, 
anointed with taintless milky pearl
and deepest violet balm.
Of woven Light I drink, of primal rays
that cast Life's Flame
into my purest being.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Georg Emil Libert

Sunday, 13 March 2016



In the space of a moment between
a memory and a dream,
opens a sky as ancient cameo glass.
Blissful, layered blues
throw softly swelling clouds
of opaline white into sharp relief,
this flowing tableau
shining into malachite depths 
of a leaf-glutted lake, an image of Life
burned into green fused
with azure, purest turquoise through
eyes that once believed, 
a shade unalloyed by shadows.
Once, my eyes followed
its pale primrose Sun, as early vernal
draughts cooled my lungs,
every cell sated with breath and fire,
as Spring declared Herself 
in feasts of colour, fragrance and song.
Blessed waters cradled
a soul asparkle as young shoots that
could scarce contain their joy
at the sight of an eternal union upon
emerald ripples.
Upon a swallowtail's wings my spirit
flew into that airy shrine, 
into the merging of falling and mirrored
Light, of Source and ephemeral vessel,
a sacred expression
of Time's design that ordains every
moment equal to the Flame
that sparked the Great Circle into being.

© 2016 Lily's Verse 
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Mary Louise Holt