Lyric Poet

Poetry by Brent Futo

Copyright Brent Futo 1980-2005.

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"Aurora Borealis"

Nedra Beth's House

On a day Jesus slept,
In a place God forgot,
Nedra Beth froze to death,
That her lover might not.

She was young, as was he--
Lovers, passionately,
When he radioed-in
His small plane's final plea.

Not a body was found
At the site of the wreck,
Just fresh tracks leading north,
Heading toward Nedra Beth.

As the blizzard blew in,
Right about ten o'clock,
They all called off the search--
Nedra Beth was in shock.

"Twenty more miles on foot,
Is all he must go.
If he just keeps his course,
He can weather this snow".

"But this night with no moon,
With no stars and no light--
How can my lover find me
Through this blanket of white?"

"Say your prayers, Nedra Beth,
God will bring him home whole.
And if not, God forbid,
May God rest his poor soul!"

"Hold your tongues, save your breath.
Speak no more of his death!"
Were the last words they heard
Spoken by Nedra Beth.

Later on, on through dawn
Fireworks too bright to douse
Rose as flames from the the plains--
It was Nedra Beth's house!

As it burned, prayers she learned
As a child, she reprayed:
"Let one spark pierce this dark,
Light his heart and his way!"

Thus this fire, thrust up higher
'Til at last it grew dim,
As she stood, smoldering wood
Kept her warm, but not him.

"One more hour feed this tower,
I must one more flame send!"
So her coat and her clothes
And her soul she tossed in.

And they say the next day
When they found bodies bare,
It was his coat, not hers
That covered her there.

As he held her hard hand,
Under two feet of snow,
They escaped to a place
Only lovers can go.

And the Eskimos know
That the great Northern Lights
That streak the horizon
On Alaska's dark nights...

Are the paths of two souls,
Nedra Beth and her mate,
Racing upward to heaven
In eternal embrace.

"Lover's Wake"

Lover's Wake

Silently sharing her sleep-fallen presence,
Suddenly worshipping each flawless feature,
Watching her wonderfully well-fulfilled wrapping--
The object of all, God's own perfect creature!

Porcelain fingers that stretch to the heavens,
Shoulders soft-rounded as spherical pillows,
Breasts of life's essence--the innocents' fountains,
Hair as the air as it washes the willows.

Gone are the traces of physical vibrance,
Left are the remnants of unending sorrow.
Lonliness is her perfection in present--
As mine is but yet my sole hope for tomorrow.


"She Was a Maid, But of Eighteen"

She was a maid, but of eighteen,
Doe-eyed, fair-haired, lithe and lean.
A dancer, graceful, poised, petite--
Like no other he would meet.

He watched her float upon the stage,
With eyes wiser, twice her age.
His soul surrendered to her gaze,
Mesmerized by her small ways.

She stole his stare and held it there,
Slipped it back across the air.
A moment passed as time stood still,
She lost her heart, he found his will.

And when alone they gave into
Things that all new lovers do,
"My father," she said, "is the king".
"Pray indeed that we're not seen".

"Pray fear not lass, should such fate be,
Never would I betray thee!"
(But prying eyes would soon report
Sordid rumors to the court).

So stood they soon before the king,
"Demand I now, is this thing
I hear of true--this peasant's breath
Ravishes my daughter's breast?"

"If so shall ye a princess be
No more--for this shame wrought on me!
Speak, daughter, can such lies be true,
That you could love a peasant fool!"

"Yes, father, I cannot deny
My love for him, rather I die!
Revoke my birthright, if you will,
I shall love him even still!"

"Not so, my king," he burst in turn!
"Just a simple young girl's yearn,
To fancy herself deep in love
With an older seasoned dove!"

"Was I who brought about this shame,
Plotting to abuse her name,
Seducing her with crafty games,
Deceiving this unwitting dame".

"Not true," cried she! "Enough," said he!
"I hereby render this decree:
The princess still is pure and free--
And for him, the gallows be!"

She read the Scriptures 'til the dawn
Rolled across the foggy lawn,
"No greater love hath man than this--
Lay down his life, but for his friend."

She watched him float upon that stage
With eyes wiser than her age.
Her soul surrendered to his gaze,
Mesmerized by his large ways.

He stole her stare and held it there,
Slipped it back across the air.
A moment past, she fainted ill--
He lost his life, she held it still...

It's said this queen, now old and pale,
Doe-eyed, gray-haired, faint and frail,
Still dances in her chamber-stage,
And dreams of one, once twice her age.

"Losing John the Baptist"

John The Baptist

As a voice crying in the wilderness,
Like a leaf falling onto new green moss,
In the end, no one heard her soul collapse--
Save but one, so sent forth to bear her cross.

In his face hopelessness became the past,
In his voice purpose clearly came to light.
When they touched, all her demons fled away--
Exorcised, by this angel-saviour-knight.

"Stay," she pled, "How can I remain unchained,
If you go, preaching freedom to the slaves?"
"No," he said,"I'm not he who sets you free.
Prophecy, is all but I, can do--not save".

Now she seeks everyday to live his words,
Evermore, grateful for his angel heart--
Just as John, primed the world to know the Christ,
Thus did he, sew her seed and then depart.

"Gazing Upon a Northern Star"

Her face lies herein...

I'm encaptured and snared by her magnificent ambiance,
Enraptured in stare by her incredible radiance.
I am mesmerized nigh by her passionate resonance,
And tantalized by her indelible innocence.
I am blinded and bound by her bright, spiritual purity;
I can see only love, as her ultimate destiny.
How I wish it were I, who were worthy to witness it;
Yet I know, I'm not fit to abound or exist in it.
Thusly vexed and perplexed by my purpose in being here,
I pray God to reveal this creational metaphor.
In the flash of an eye, her intensity flees from her--
Every star, so it seems, needs a gazer to quicken her.

"Beautiful Imperfection"

Beautiful Imperfection

Long before we met, our lives were littered, with beautiful imperfection.
Songs we would forget, emotions filtered, we traveled without direction.
Plagued by our mistakes, our lives were hollow, and full of blind resignation.
Saved by God's own grace, somehow we'd follow, this path of our destination.
Then I touched your hair, with hands unfettered, and felt the face of acceptance.
When our lips embraced, our souls embettered, we paid the price, of our penitence.
Perfect strangers once, imperfect searchers, we longed for someone to need us.
After all the hunts, and midnight mergers, we found the one to complete us.

Copyright Brent Futo 1980-2003.