A Like Amphora
I, A, an admirable adolescent-ant with some acumen as well as with the propitious admiration, am adhering to an alluring address, and I like to adorn each Parnassius Apollo, the dreamy sibyl-like butterfly, so tender as a meekly cute amethyst of an amicable freed boar from ancient holt of the propitiously gorgeous daydreams.
First of all, You miraculously Apollonian butterfly are able to allay a gloam just after a blue hour. Alike all night will be for Your sake alight. The bright flame is enchanted by ghosts full of weird-fantasy. A sheen of muse-like starlets on the propitious heaven is Your allegiance. I want to see an allegory of Your alley into word of dreams born from a dew-fulfillment. You are allocating dreams into a weird-like small dwarf-land at the back of a mead beloved by the Morning Star, fulfilled and freed in the magical as well as druidical holt-time. The holt likes fantasy of the dreaming oaks that are carrying the invisible thought of tender Erlkings allied with the butterflies of nights, the companions of the moon and birds from the starlets of the ontology. I am an all-purpose being philosophizing about the dreamery of the sempiternity and eternity of some rainbows. You have alluring vans, the bewitched wings of melancholy. Thus, You are in the most tender epistemology all-knowing, such an all-powerful lady beetle which seems to allure the dew-spirits of the dreamiest springtide. I love Your allusions like the almighty Druid. I would pray to You aloud. Alpine roses are being carried by the blossom-like mermaids for You. At a druidic alar: the amassing ants. I am the amateur of Your mermaid-like amazement beloved by sibyls of the ethics. I collected amber for Your ancestors, the kinfolk of dreamed suns, that like the ambrosia from morning dew and honey from ancient pixies. You are counting all stars before the Morning Star on the alluring heaven, such an amethyst fulfilled in the aesthetics. The most I like your dreamy wings like the most Apollonian poetical vans, as If I were never the anchorite. You animate angels, although you are not from a heaven of angelical beings, but You are also true, alive. Your soft antennae are answerable to the Adonis´ butterfly. In my anthill, bacchanalian songs are always heard. You can and may rule with antlerling, the small antler of fairies which ought to call all awful wolves of the woodland. These wolves have become an aesthetic-aethitical apocalypse, waiting as the apotheosis of antlike apology.
Pawel Markiewicz was born 1983 in Poland (Siemiatycze) . He published his English haikus as well as short poems in the best literary magazines of world such as: Ginyu (Tokio) , Atlas Poetica (USA) or The Cherita (UK). Recently he has published some poems in by Tajmahal Review (India) and Better Than Starbucks (USA) . He published furthermore his poems and prosa in Internet: Blog Nostics – to wit his mystical flash- the Druid…about fungi… Pawel has published more than 50 poems in German in Germany and Austria and 3 chapbooks in Polish in Poland. His experimental poem will be published in South Africa 2019.