These mortal coils

These mortal coils

I see man wrapped in mortal coils

Like lifeless cobwebs, over the mind it is spun

To reach the soul it has only just begun

The world’s sweet temptations, its lies, its untrustful hand

drags us slowly beneath a pit of burning sand

How sweet would you mortal coils be as valorous shield so certainly

But these coils are bare. Their nakedness allows life’s battles to

rot our resilience and bring closer us to our knees

Could our own strength be that bulwark

Can we, as that tragic Prince of Danes, shed our ‘old’ mortal coils

yet not die — but fight through life’s toils —

With a higher guide by our side?


#Note: I am taking a semi-hiatus from this blog for writing purposes. I will only be posting poems once a month over the next three months. The regular weekly schedule of posts will resume in January.

Jonathan Rowe

Requiem for the Emissaries

Requiem for the Emissaries

There once was a time

they knew the mystery.

Masters, scholars,

theologians, philosophers—

unsheathing divine

and metaphysical meaning

in a crucible of ideas;

anointing themselves

supreme messengers of

esoteric, erudite truths.

Their days are done.

For the Light enlightens

the ignorant to

shame the wise.

Their days are done.

Like relics wilting in

the aura of their hallowness,

the minds of the Learned

have been rendered lame

by the Knower-Of-All-Things

who humbles all

with the knowledge of

what is, was and still to come.





Stroking your poisoned scalp

I watch for memories of

silk, scarlet locks