Ancient Friend

Long sought by the keenest of vision,
With radiant sweeps you smooth the wrinkled mien,
Making sprightly the mariner's melancholy heart,
Stirring his soul ... Reflecting his flame within.

Rising above the surge of swarthy, foam crested tongues,
Signalling steadier than the echo
Of their siren-songs,
You light his way - leading him home ...

Christian S. Eskelund
Atlantic Beach, Florida

Cafe' (La Patisserie Daix )

Were the entire world half so sweet as these confections that
Surround me I might, ( I fear I might ), Succumb
To sanguine, syrupy self - indulgence.
In corpulence of flesh, not Soul, I'd lead my suffering starved
Existence, And perish unscarred, my crypt bejeweled,
Then rise to new life more the fool.

Christian S. Eskelund
Marseilles, France

Counting the Cost

Should I covet the caresses of the palm fronds of this life,
Entertain their kisses upon sunswept, golden sands of bronzed,
Adorned, unspent passions ?

Inhaling the fullness of the fragrance of foreign follies,
From balcony - villa's blue ocean vista ...
Overlooking the Sea of need that beckons with a Heart that bleeds !

Should I drown the Call that cries, with grand inquests, astute replies ?
Or, shall I, as a child is wont, obey
The simple Call - Command
To lay down all that stays my hand from losing all ,
That I might gain the truly grand - The harvest of the souls of man ?

Christian S. Eskelund
Benidorm, Spain

For Love's Sake

Compassion -consumed, love knelt, served and died,
Did not withdraw from our railing - we raged at his perfection...
Flayed, his blood scarleted the dust from which he had moulded us.
He perished - impaled - suspended against a violent sky For love's sake.

Plunging into the hellish void, He shattered the shackles of the grave,
Crushing its power by the force of the Father's hand,
Rising to justify those by whom he had been slain,
That we, who murdered perfection might kneel, serve and live - For Love's sake.

Christian S. Eskelund
Atlantic Beach, Florida


Inspiration, once again - I am infected
With the rhythm and rhyme of verse,
A panoply of prosaic profundity ...
I ride in a tiny skiff, upon an all encompassing
Ocean of thought, And muse over the ubiquitous concepts
Raining upon me. I am soaking in their torrent,
And frantically grasping at these neuronic seeds;
Then viewing each in each and every plane,
Rotating each ambitious segment of syntax,
Until the storm subsides
And I find myself beached
Upon a glistening shore.

Christian S. Eskelund

Missing Link

Sinuous and subtle, the surreptitious serpent seeks certain
Passage through a crevice in the corner of my mind,
Hissing, flicking tempter's tongue toward each chink
In spirit armour, where perchance deception root might find.

The Spirit, sentry, sounds within the trumpet of alarm,
As, entrance gained, the serpent stands erect,
Its hideous form swaying savagely - rapacious with desire,
It roars and snarls and sets ablaze a wicked, flaming pyre.

Somehow, in the centre of that scorching yellow heat,
The Saviour stands with hammering hands
To forge the beast's defeat.
His words, torrential, quench each flame, each ember, every sin,
Flushing out the creature, any hint of dross within,
Then welds into the armour,of the realm in which I think,
The object of his forging skill - The truth - that missing link.

Christian S. Eskelund
Cannes France

Perfect World

A perfect world, infinitely young and bright, luxuriantly colourful and radiant,
Reveling in the vigour of its youth .
Teeming with life, the cool river lapping at my feet shimmers as I reach up and pluck
The fresh fruit of my fancy.
Leviathan, at my behest, rears his mighty head from the deep, bellowing with delight as
My fruit arcs toward his great maw.
Sensing a feline presence, I reach for the wildcat as he brushes by ...
And I am alone Again.

I lie down, eyes scanning the cyan shield overhead.
Ferns tower above me, reaching out to their Maker, and I, my hands
Likewise extended, yearn for something I have not yet beheld,
That which I cannot conceive ...

What ? My Maker is here, and I being lulled ... to sleep...
I would leap up, only to fall prostrate - in worship,
But, hush now rather ...

Eyelids flickering, I squint at the rays of a new sun ... "Adam ! Adam !"
"My Lord and my God, what stands before me thus ?"
Reaching out to touch - a hand so like mine, But tender.
What form glistens so with the early morning dew ?
So like mine, yet so different, responding, "Adam !"

"Behold your wife, your companion ..."
Altogether lovely , her curves flowing, like the bends of the river seen from the
Tallest tree, her skin smooth and supple - enticingly warm ...
My awakening soul is gripped, strangely,
Leaping like a prancing deer ...
What heat flushes me thus ?

Embracing, we are adrift in a breeze of unsullied passion,
"Come away my lovely and see my habitation, for you truly
Bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh ..."

Tumbling earthward, we inhale the heady fragrance of valley blooms,
And, above, a lone eagle soars ...
Higher and higher he climbs, and then -
The joy of freedom - He screams.

Christian S. Eskelund
McDonald's Restaurant,
NAS Pensacola, Florida

Redoubtable Syncope

We trudge this path of daily drudgery,
Weary, somnambulists, seeking true
Tranquillity, almost overcome by the
Temperate climes we sometimes find,
Stumbling into the heady intoxication of their
Overwhelming, insidious liqour where
Soporific slumber seems so sweet.

So then, shall we lay our heads to rest
And there fall faint, where dreams of
Indolent ataraxia our souls in
Drowsy chains may keep?
Never, for then with death we sleep!

Christian S. Eskelund
Corfu, Greece

The Arrival

From my lofty rooftop porch
The merry throng I do espy
Winding up past chapel - church
On stair -stepped paveway, hue and cry...

The village joy resounds about
As you break free from common crowd
And run to meet me with a shout !

Then tumble I from zenith chair,
Careening down each castle stair -
My ( thudding ) footsteps mock my heart,
Falling never far apart...

On cedar sprouting lawn we meet,
Bedazzled by each other's gaze,
You leap,with nimble satined feet,
Into the arms of my embrace ...

And plant your fervent, fiery kiss
Upon my neck, my cheek, my lips -
Such long awaited bliss is this !

Christian S. Eskelund
Palma, Mallorca

No Condemnation

Upon one longing, lonely day - so blue,
As I passed by young lovers on the street,
I paused to gaze - to taste their kisses sweet.
Within their shadows I saw me and you,
Our forms entwined as hearts gave rise to do ...
And though they seemed to me so indiscreet,
Yet envied I their company complete,
The shameless passion of a love so new.
Because, throughout the days of my absence,
My heart had come to pulse with a dull ache,
I feared lest I of faithfulness relent -
Imbibe the drug of lust and so mistake.
Therefore I dare not judge the heart that sensed
That distance might its love's foundations shake.

Christian S. Eskelund
The Beachfront, Tarragona, Spain