Graham Hardie lives in Cardross near Glasgow with his wife, cat and Labrador retriever.

He has had poetry published in Agenda, Shearsman, Gutter, The David Jones Journal and Markings.

He has written poetry reviews for the London Grip online magazine.

Love Immortal-

The struggle is of the poet’s intention,
to manifest the weary upon his boat
and to seek the love of his invention,
as a proud father once wrote:
“That all is not of perfection!”
But a wise man is not a happy one,
and his heart is full of rejection,
for he looks for love by Amyrra’a sun
which is coated with her madness,
yet beneath the tar is the abundance
of light given with rays of happiness,
to those filled by life’s redundance.
So shall I confer the story upon you
in a manner befitting the love and rage,
for I cherished Amyrra as true
as any painter, artist, poet or sage.
Orpheus is the widow and I the meadow
and she is the nymph upon my shadow.

The mood is dense and unbearable,
and the fairies sleep by moonlight
while Unicorns thirst for the unquenchable,
by the pools of diamonds and night.
Orpheus wants only comfort and beauty,
while the witches groom his mind
and his songs are his love and duty,
for the world is barren and unkind.
From the sapphire in the ground,
there is a beacon of virtue and celibacy
yet his mouth to Hades is bound,
and his eyes are duped in her efficacy.
For there is no commodity in our tragedy,
only the grace of Hope and her majesty.

Orpheus rides the star of Orion beyond
the reaches of his goal and sanity,
for he aches for what is fond
but wishes not for a woman’s vanity.
He steps on the stones of Helena’s shore,
in search of the conquest in might
of the loose shingles of the city whore,
and the sharp wound of the beggar’s night.
There is no reason for living
in such a state of life’s insomnia.
There is no reason for giving
to the butterflies of the buddleia.
But Orpheus is a hero, the God of valour,
as Faith and Love he will always honour.

The black pixie plays a violin,
and the spider climbs the Elidon tree
and Orpheus bleak in thought and sin,
reproaches the coolness of the sea.
He contemplates ten years of loneliness,
the abandonment of such fallacy,
when with a chisel he carved sadness
upon the wings of the druid’s sorcery.
Yet the marigold fairy speaks in his ear
telling him of the girth of regeneration,
that time will pass and so will fear
and his heart will know of love’s elation.
A promise that makes Orpheus smile,
for his soul walked eternity mile for mile.

The Lady of the Lake draws her sword
in the wood and all who look
upon her are neither engaged nor bored,
as Orpheus is sleeping by a brook.
His dreams are like an arrow in the sky,
vivid, sharp and as sacred as sand,
and they pierce his sullenness with a cry:
“Amyrra, Amyrra! take the poet’s hand!”
A name unfamiliar to him and his path,
with two skeletons embraced in a grave,
for the bond is unbreakable but for the wrath
of Orpheus who is tied to iniquity’s slave.
The dawn of Amyrra cracking the chains
choking Orpheus in the fire of Hell’s rains.

The sound of rabbits eating grass,
nibbling on the feet of the earth
awakens Orpheus in the spirit of mass,
as the day has broken to Amyrra’s birth.
He brought the deer for company,
the white roe and the black fawn
who instigate the fabric of family,
to Orpheus since the day he was born.
I will speak only of his loss,
the monumental tragedy of love denied
as Orpheus on the wet moss,
thinks of Fayna and the way she lied.
Oh ladies do not despise his hunger,
for the red ravens of Greca to plunder!

The beech willow looks upon his brow
and steals the thunder from within his seat,
while the dandelions are watched by a cow
and Orpheus sips the air for magic to eat.
He dwells on her body, the contours of light,
the manifestation of desire,
and the rising erection like a kite,
entering her flesh and flying higher and higher
and pursued with the urge to love and belong,
as he licks the edge of her skin
where birth is given by the lips of a song,
written for her as lovers will pin,
such moments in their forged memory,
and so to behold of such human treasury.

The blue goblin plays the silver guitar,
to lull Orpheus into the sleep of nature,
to open the portal and take him far
to the wayside of the lurid creature.
But Orpheus stumbles to the winter sun,
to find Amyrra the lady of salvation,
for his pain is unbearable and will run
through his knowledge like hell’s vocation:
the platitude of all sin and revolt.
For he will not feign his need for her
and neither will he begin to stop or halt,
for intuition and power will incur
that Amyrra is the lamp in the shade,
and she will cut his despair with a blade.

Image

Such is the manner of the man
now possessed with this virgin in sight,
that he must know her and can
only hope that her face is as bright,
as the stars in his bosom of choice.
For to collect her being by a river,
he must and follow the Elder’s voice,
for he will bring her closer and deliver
the blanket on which they will lie.
The Elder says there is no hurry,
and the time will begin with a sigh,
so Orpheus is no longer in a flurry,
for in love he has always known less
and so drowned in it’s mire and mess.

The wood is dank and Orpheus bemused,
the White Lady to him has promised
what the Elder speaks of his muse,
in such language given only to the calmest,
and he gazes and the only light
the faint hope of the pink water lily,
languishing in the mud of his foresight
as the satyr’s laugh and think him silly,
to wish for Amyrra the poet’s dream
and the poet’s risen drama and demise.
Bodach drinks of the passion’s cream,
as he hides behind Orpheus in disguise.
For he will remonstrate with his friend,
and see that no harm will visit him in the end.

10)

Orpheus takes a walk to the edge of the wood,
so that he can watch the geese fly south
and ask them to bring back a banquet of food,
to enrich the heart of love and her soft mouth.
A red pigeon sits on his shoulder,
and it’s eyes capture the visitations of man,
who ask of Orpheus that he be bolder
in his search for meaning and what he can
understand by all the principles of God,
for on the road that leads to her, there are rocks
and the chase and manifestation of a devil dog;
for Amyrra is personified by a ship that docks
in the port of debauchery, for all her virtue,
is given to money and her love will hurt you.

11)

For the great poet champions the vanquished heart,
the bruised suffering of love unrequited or dismissed
and he writes for men when their lover will depart,
through the hedgerow of atonement and hell’s mist.
Yet Orpheus is blind to the envelope of love,
which opens to greet you with a message of joy
proceeded with a woman’s desire risen above,
as Orpheus once a man becomes a boy.
The day passes and the night sleeps awake
and the Elder says nothing and there is a void,
and Orpheus lies by the glade of Chalon’s lake
where once the fairies of gretha enjoyed
a feast of magic and a celebration of the bronze oak,
and they flew to Habcea where the dragon awoke.

12)

Bodach sits in the hollow branch of the yew tree
and he is a prophet, an ancient elf
who has been sent for Orpheus to again see,
the overflowing gardens of love’s wealth.
But he knows of Amyrra the widow of the sun
and the harlot of the centaurs pleasure,
where once they gathered around her for fun,
and threw coins at her to fill her treasure
as she carved the cock in wood,
and lay there naked her legs in the air
for she defiled what was once good,
as they viewed her body lustful and bare.
And so Bodach knows Amyrra is his fate,
but Orpheus he will protect before it is too late.

13)

When the night was young she died
and when all was one the mind was born,
and Orpheus in his life had always tried
to step away from rocks and bridges torn.
By the moon he hears the whistle of songbirds,
and he ventures forth to touch the spring,
to feel her blossom and to write her words
and to paint Amyrra’s face upon their wing.
In his dream her eyes were filled with longing
for the soul of Orpheus and his strength,
to know his body and torso for her belonging,
and to gage his love and it’s time and length.
But as the truth will not avail,
Orpheus a man for quests will follow her trail.

14)

The white gremlin looks upon our hero
and senses the fixation of his sadness,
and that his spirit walks in ground zero
and that melancholy produces his madness.
So the gremlin laughs loudly and dances
to bring the heart back to Orpheus in hope,
as they dance, the elf and the fairy who glances
in pity at the creature who with love will elope,
and bring back the measure of the soul
to the mind that hangs in a garden of dirt,
as to his hand the acorn of a fairy tree will glow
and he will no longer linger on the whore’s skirt.
The Elder looks for the change in the winter sun,
when Amyrra will return and the night’s frost will run.

15)

Amyrra my love! my angel of the world!
come to me, come to me as the virgin of the sea,
open your arms and embrace what is unfurled,
my being is within you and is set in such glee!
The song of Orpheus to be heard
amongst the blackbirds and foxes of the wood,
as his heart with love immortal is stirred
and time is dead and he knows he should,
pray to Apollo that Amyrra will come and follow,
the star that brings her forth from heaven’s door
and casts away the loneliness of his sorrow,
as from his voice in happiness we hear him roar!
And by the twilight of the last lunar eclipse,
the Elder knows Orpheus will kiss her lips.

16)

The Fairy Queen arrives to greet the poet
and Orpheus strokes her regal hand,
offering his services as she will know it
if Orpheus is to be the high king of this land.
Her train of suitors and valets appear
and tend to her incumbent and earthly need,
as Orpheus feels the moistness of her fear
that in all generations to come, love will bleed.
She knows that to him Amyrra is God’s worth,
the very soil in which he will grow
and with her love the light will give birth,
to the union of Adam and Eve and will sow
the particles of breath between male and female
and so rejoice in the setting of this fairytale.

17)

To despise the nature of being
and to live in a void where there is no truth,
as we fulfil our destiny without seeing
the real realms alerted to us in our youth.
And so with Orpheus riding a stag
through the valley and up into the mountain,
covered with lilacs and the witch’s rag
where from he drinks the potion of her fountain,
and is witness to the barren sight
of Amyrra in all her beauty naked and cold,
and her face pale and her skin white,
and her flesh young and her spirit old.
Orpheus dashes to her plight in chivalry
as the potion mixes his desire with confusion,
and Amyrra stands awaiting her anonymity
to his soul guaranteed to be his illusion.

18)

Orpheus hustles through the gale
and leaps above the bog and peat,
to see the siren of the whale,
his Amyrra whose scarf of wheat
covers her dormant eyes of red lace;
for she is the orphan of the universe
and the child of this haunting place,
but to Orpheus she will perverse
the courage of his love and devotion,
but she will remain intact for him
and will show him her limited emotion;
for she is cursed with a harlot’s sin.
No doubt there will be passion indeed,
as Orpheus will cultivate the poetic seed.

19)

A red tailed kestrel lands by her neck,
and Orpheus looks upon her and her chin,
his heart exasperated and his mind a wreck
as her breast lies in flesh like the moon of Lelin.
She utters no words but touches his hair,
and Orpheus gazes upon the lilies in her eyes
and he is amazed and without care,
for she is his lover and the champion of his demise.
Then as soon as she was there she was gone,
like dust on the sand of a nomadic desert
and where her beauty once came and shone,
now lies only Orpheus bewildered and hurt.
But as the Elder knows this was but an apparition,
as Amyrra for now will be visible only as a vision.

20)

Orpheus bewitched and sullen lights a fire,
in a cave where orange mice wriggle and squeal
and he thinks of her and plays his lyre,
and wonders what in God’s name he must feel:

“Amyrra, Amyrra!
The songs of the earth are broken,
so bring me joy,
and bring me happiness
so I may know love’s sweet token!”

And he plays through the night of black hawks
who steal the thunder from the swollen skies,
as a seraphim lost ponders and walks
and begs to believe that Christ never dies.
The love of Amyraa and Orpheus has seen its birth
as the great and godly know of their union,
blood souls mixed with flowers and the earth
where man and woman will defend their communion.
Bodach is weary and still in disguise but patient,
is how he is and will be before he kills the serpent.

21)

In the wood for a while the magic has been dispelled,
until amongst the branches we hear the chariot wheel
and through the trees the King of the Swordfish is beheld,
as the atmosphere of gloom he will steal
and turn around the morose faces to those animated,
with the news and message of hope
by the wish granted to those whose lives are belated,
that no longer will they fall and slip on the greasy slope.
So to Orpheus he asks him to rise to the challenge,
to meet him halfway and to guess his name
and so no longer walk on knees in order to scavenge,
a hollow image of a love given but now lame.
Orpheus whispers to the King that he is nameless
and he replies “Orpheus you are no longer aimless!”

22)

Greeted like a schoolboy who wins a prize,
Orpheus leaps upon the stag to head for the Glen,
for he knows she will be there and he is wise
to the fact that Amyrra is the mistress of all men.
The stag carries him forth to the foot of the knoll,
and there she is under a yew tree, her face pale
and her eyes the plain of the thousandth soul,
where the Red Dragons of Estefa bellow and wail.
Orpheus holds her and “Speak to me!” he exclaims,
but the wind loses her words and she just smiles
and with a kiss the sun darkens and it rains;
for this is the beginning of his pain and his trials,
as again the lady vanishes as soon as she appears,
and Orpheus is left with nothing but his wanton fears.

23)

The tarot said completion in The World
but Orpheus is oblivious to anything but Amyrra,
and to the burning chalice his heart is hurled
and he wonders how much it would cost to buy her.
Such thoughts plague the man, once bitten
by the revelation that we set fate on her motion,
for on the scroll of Perseus it is forever written
that man is better to flee than to suffer lust’s notion.
Orpheus travels to the knoll and leaves a rose,
the sign of his love in fullest regalia and triumph
and by the rocks of an empty sea a heron will pose,
and in the pools of fortune there will be a nymph
who will raise the water from the lush waves,
and will send the doubters to their unearthly graves.

24)

Orpheus ventures from the wood to the ocean,
and by the reeds of tall grass he looks out
as he sees in the distance a white horse of emotion,
riding towards him as he hears a woman shout.
She rides past all in white silk and raises her hand
so that Orpheus may know of her plan,
and he runs after Amyrra but she sinks into the sand
and he is left but the mortal, and the poet of man.
He heads back but falls and trips, landing in brambles
they prick him and he bleeds like Christ on the cross,
and he is aware that his death scrambles
what is left by a wound of love and its eternal loss.
When back with the golden fairies he sings a song,
and they fly and kiss his hair as to him they belong.

25)

Amyrra once set the world on fire
she was the princess to the kingdom of Bethany,
but she was born of poverty and a liar
for she set her soul on a river of iniquity.
The people work hard for little and survive,
but Amyrra was a ghost who wanted more,
so she sought the help of a centaur to thrive
without effort and so she became a whore
for the centaurs and she was rich,
for a time until they cursed her and bonded
her to the will of the Vezuta witch;
and now she is but an apparition confounded
by her own sin never to be free again,
just a plaything for lustful and desperate men.

26)

She has no body, just an image for those who pay
to watch her perform as she squirts and masturbates,
with cocks of ivory and oak, and she will lay
as they toss coins and she watches them liberate
themselves for her, as this was her choice
but is now her curse, for she is of the wind and clouds,
and she has seen Orpheus and is moist
at his tender heart and poetic mind which shrouds
her guilt and her feelings of wretchedness;
and she knows she is bitter and twisted, her soul grey
but Orpheus my Orpheus save me from wickedness
is her plea as she at night watches the moon to pray.
Her love is genuine but her judgement is awry
for her greed for money means her spirit will die.

27)

The sea eagle sweeps across the animated scene,
where the holly sprites pick berries
and the pixies run and play tag in a team,
and then the mother wolf gives them cherries.
Orpheus rides his stag to the top of a hill,
where the sun has mounted the blue sky
and healed the flesh of men who were ill,
and Amyrra skips like a daisy who would fly
as she meets Orpheus by the glade of a white deer,
and they pick flowers and he embraces her,
but the moment is fleeting and she will disappear;
and Orpheus reluctant to leave wraps his fur
around his shoulders and sleeps in the ground,
for he knows in his dreams his love will be found.

28)

In the glade he awakes with snow at his feet,
and it is night and the glade reflects his state,
cold and without desire, hopeless to meet
Amyrra in the dawn of his ominous fate.
He lifts himself up and dusts of the snow,
and looks up to see his friend Bodach in a tree,
the ancient elf rubbing his red beard
and he asks of him “What do you see?”
and Bodach senses the wild and the weird
“I see nothing but white mist” he replies
and Orpheus laughs at him for he knows his jest
“That is because you are blind Bodach,
blind to the mysteries of love and her magic,
and we know that you to love are allergic!”

29)

“Be careful my friend as Amyrra is a thorn,
not the rose, but the thorn and she will bite
like the serpent that will lead you to her at dawn,
and then love will wither and you will fight
for your being, your sanity and all things of meaning!”
and as he said this a tear fell from the thrush;
yet Orpheus dismissed this as jealous ramblings
of a foolish old elf who wishes to crush,
the swelling amber of his love and his feelings.
He lies in the snow and hears it weep
for Amyrra and her sin and he holds her eyes,
in the mirror of his heart so when he will sleep
she will see him and know his love from the skies.
There is no consistency in the matters of life and death
but for Orpheus the manner of living is to the last breath.

Here are three stunning images, beautifully inspired by the poem
Love Immortal.
Created by the talented artist
Katy Jones,
these artworks capture the essence of timeless love with remarkable depth and emotion.