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‘The great snake lies ever half awake,
at the bottom of the pit of the world, curled.’
TS Eliot
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Dancing like an Easter priest,
Hooded in the purple lee,
Proclaiming celestial visions,
To a fathomless sifting sea.
With no memory of membrane,
Cast out from a lost domain,
Feral exile of the fruit tree,
Cursed to earth and marked as Cain.
Freed by Gods damnation,
To skim the rippling air,
Barely touching,
Coiled and twisting,
Like Leonardo hair.
Across the lamenting dune,
A jewelled sword to the burnished crest,
Undulating slyly and swiftly,
The serpent is whispering west.
Under a sweet rising moon,
Softly scarlet above the last hill,
Deep down in elliptical shadows,
The dark angel is blaspheming still.
Flayed without blood in the sloughing,
His last covering is finally shed;
In temptations thrall to a calling,
Transcending the glorious dead.
©2016 Paul Carpenter
Extract from Paul’s books
“The Storm Dove”
and “Homecoming”
To buy these books £6 + p&p
Contact Paul either by Texting or by email….
TEXT +44 781 35 74 778
email: carpenterp80@gmail.com
Paul Carpenter - Poet 