Ian Stewart Black

Modern master of classical poetry

Month: August, 2010

The Alabaster Muse


You entrance my heart with alabaster hues –

And cast your shadows on the night.

Illuminating all before me

And flood my very soul with light.

In silent dreams of silver, gleaming waters –

I see a starless midnight sky.

A crystal, raven-black horizon

And you, alone, enchant my eye.

I see the ocean swoon beneath your beauty –

Awed, as a lover, to your grace.

Even while you ripple in her waters,

Your ashen light illumes my face.

You stole my heart away within the night –

Amid your soft and pallid hues.

Now I gaze, enamoured by your light

Into my alabaster muse.




A simple Haiku <3

I rise with the sun
To watch her softly sleeping,
Dreams of amber light.

The Darkness In The Sky (Just Practice)


I found myself among the dreary dusk.

Cowering in terror from the night.

I lay, forlorn, of fallen crest.

I lay, as ever, painfully alone.

My chamber seemed a mausoleum.

Every night, by my own hand, entombed.

My dreams were only that of silent rivers.

My dreams were only that of fallen souls.


I knew the night would take me.

I saw its beady eyes within my words.

I fought the endless dusk with every breath.

I fought the endless darkness in my soul.


And so I lay, subdued and weary.

And drew my last defiant breath.

Before I felt the night surround me.

Before I felt the darkness lurk inside.


I rose, awakened, from my tomb.

My mausoleum, left behind.

To the night, I fled in sorrow.

To the night, I now belonged.


Outside, the world was misted over.

By a veil of autumn rain.

The darkness in the sky was calling.

The darkness in the sky was absolute.


I ran until my very soul was sodden.

Until I, too, could be concealed.

The veil of shadowed gloom was calling.

The veil of shadowed gloom was absolute.


The night had wrapped me in its arms.

The night had bound me its web.

The claws of midnight fell like mist.

The claws of midnight tore my flesh.


I looked into the starless sky.

I wept a silent stream of pain.

My tears flashed golden light among the darkness.

My tears flashed golden light among the rain.


Like sacred feathers from the sky.

Sublime and radiant as the dawn.

Lambent angels fell to soothe my soul.

Lambent angels fell to sing me to my grave.



Tapestry of Wolves

There are such phantoms of the night,

As twilight shadows, unperceived,

That hunt alone with spectral eyes,

That stalk among the living, sole.

Between the dusk and solemn dawn,

Among the revenants and wraiths,

Must flash the eyes of eventide,

Must rest the spirit of the moon.


In starlit fields of winter snow,

The hunter waits among the dark,

His silver form and frozen veil,

His silent blizzard in the night.

He is the watchman of the dusk,

He is but smoke among the mist,

Within the corner of your eye,

The place you never dare to look.


There is a call from the abyss,

That chases down the midnight prey,

That beckons to the moon, forlorn,

A sorrow-cry of spectral grace.

And when the dawn shall burn the land,

No more shall twilight howl in woe,

But every wraith shall be at peace,

At rest, the spirit of the moon.



In The Shadows Of Leaves (In Honour Of Yamamoto Tsunetomo)


There is much to be learned from a rainstorm

And those who dwell within.

Among the shadows of summer leaves,

Beneath the somber sky.

There is much to be told of the valour

Of one who hides his face.

And turns his cheek against the wind,

To spare him from the storm.

Of one who quickens pace to home

And bows before the rain.

Of one who wraps himself in layers,

And thinks himself above.


There is much to be learned from a rainstorm

And those who dwell within.

Among the shadows of summer leaves,

Beneath the somber sky.

There is much to be told of the virtue

Of one who braves the storm.

And turns his smile unto the sky

To feel the heavens fall.

Of one who walks, not quickened.

But strong and resolute.

Of one who cries the very torrent,

And calls to heaven ‘more’.


There is much to be learned from a rainstorm

And those who dwell within.

Who quickly run along their way,

To shelter from the rain.

Who pass beneath the eaves of houses

In hoping to stay dry.

Who only find themselves perplexed;

The sky has soaked them through.

To walk beneath the open clouds

Will steep you all the same.

But render you resolved throughout.

Of all things, this is true.



Truth Behind The Eyes


Cast aside the seeping veil
And prophets on the fire.
As wax and feathers spiral down
To the whisper of a name.
Overcome with metal gloom
And disembodied words.
Lost among the mist of pride,
The truth behind the eyes.
Crimson teeth, the rivermouth,
The swallowing of myth.
Swinging free, the silver sword
And pendulum of hate.
Burn away the apparition,
And semblence of the free.
Turn the dagger to the cloak,
The sunrise of the damned.

Evening Solace


Soft, sublime and splendid.

Silent, majestic and mild.

Gateway to another realm.

Evening solace.

Stoic, and resplendent as the dawn.



Forget Me Not

Forget me not, as the years tumble on.

Like tears upon my cheek. Like leaves in the wind.

As sea and storm erode the past, as all must fall to sand.

As all the world may turn, inured, I beg: forget me not.


Forget me not, as my name must evanesce.

As others rise as I have done, as others take my place.

Like a withered rose, once grand, and now, a memory.

In that I left behind, my words, I beg: forget me not.


Forget me not, as my heart no longer burns.

As others love as I have loved. As others speak my truth.

Like some antique to be procured, a vessel to be filled.

In that I shared with you, my love, I beg: forget me not.


A Day To Remember


Today is any other day, by any other means.

A time, a place, a moment. A world, a passerby.

Today is any other day, on any other lips.

Define it by the spitting rain, or dusky, ashen sky.


Today is any other day, to any other mind.

A gaze, a breath, an ember. A new-impassioned high.

The walk along the riverside. The sun, obscured by clouds.

The shadow-fire, the sea of blue, the moon within your eye.


Today is any other day, in any other heart.

The young adults, the playful smile, the melancholic sigh.

The swelling flame, conflicted. The hunger of desire.

The final chance, the would-be kiss, the bittersweet goodbye.


Today is any other day, to any other man.

Void of love or poetry. A life, a time, mundane.

But I am no one other, and this is mine alone.

My life. My heart. My would-be-kiss. Today, I fall for you.