A Sip of Sherrie

A taste of Me.. Poetry, stories and reflections of a Southern Belle. :)

Thursday, April 29, 2004

A Sirius Sestina



Above the magnolia sits Sirius,
So majestic on a serious night.
Brilliant diamond in the sky’s tiara,
Does Sirius mind that I dance with sin?
I spend hours with lust, wildly waltzing
In perfect step with ecstasy’s music.

Butterfly soft plays sin’s haunting music.
Do you feel the tempo, stern Sirius?
Look high above you, small stars are waltzing.
They’re radiance is sizzling dark’s night.
To ignore their beauty is such a sin.
See proud Sirius…Heaven’s tiara?

Sirens yearn to kidnap night’s tiara
Because its luster dulls their charmed music.
Even in the deep blue ocean lurks sin.
How can you be so blind, sad Sirius
To the serpentine charms of my midnight,
While I sinuously enjoy waltzing.

In my mosaic dreams, we are waltzing.
I wear nudity like a tiara.
My Sirius of the serious night
Follow the rhythm of wanton music.
I am your gilded violet, Sirius.
In sultry heat, I’ll wilt within your sin.

Deliciously, I wear your carnal sin,
As we meld as one in fervor, waltzing.
You shine your brightest, lover Sirius,
Outshining diamonds in a tiara.
Lust is a maestro directing music.
Like a shooting star we burn up the night.

How does a dream survive the dark of night?
Reality plays its bitter music,
As I remain alone with lusty sin.
The music has stopped. There is no waltzing.
To sirens, I give my jaded tiara.
Even their song can’t move Sirius.

Music is the heart of a tempest night.
Someday may Sirius join me in sin.
I’ll keep waltzing and wear hope’s tiara.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Yesterday at dusk, William (my 5-yr-old nephew) and I were outside doing some weeding...or rather I was doing the weeding. He was playing Superman. I saw the Quarter Moon, smiling above the house and pointed it out to him. Then I saw Venus, shining so brightly.

I said, "See that light, William. That's Venus."

He disagreed, "No, that's a star, Aunt Sherrie."

And there was Sirius, looking sternly out over the pines...and a poem is born.

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