| Another new poem... |
[05 Mar 2007|01:32pm] |
THE MOON
Behold!
The moon rises over the pallid sea and
The silvery mist of the meadows –
Silently one by one,
In the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossoms the lovely stars –
The forget-me-nots of the angels
Her level rays, like golden bars
Lie on the ground below
An eerie green with
Wild shadows cast in brown in between.
Silver white the waters gleam,
As if Artemis herself,
In enpassioned dreams,
Has dropped her silver bow
Down upon the quiet earth.
A very soft spirit worships -
One lovers know and love so well –
Whose influence over
All tides of soul has true power, and
Who lends a pale light to
Rapture and despair;
The glow of hope and wan hue of sick fancy
Are each reflected within the mirror of slivered rays
Lighting the path of meeting or of parting love -
Illuminating the mingling of and
The breaking of hearts one in the same…
An ethereal smile enthroned in beauty.
In the same breath,
The governess of floods -
Pale in her anger –
Washes all the air
That rheumatic diseases do abound.
Through this fit of temper,
We do see the seasons alter
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| New Poetry |
[04 Mar 2007|12:45pm] |
My muse, the vengeful little bitch that she is, is stirring there in my mind right now. She hasn't decided whether or not her presence needs to be forceful today, but it has inspired this...
The Muse
There, in the thicket,
Can you see it?
A half-wild beast supping on
A half-cooked stew,
Lingering close to the clearing
Yet not quite willing to enter.
Drawn in by the stench of
Eagerness and hope,
It releases a gut-wrenching snarl and
Enters,
Moving ever closer with
A gleam and a dare in its eye.
Do you have what it takes –
The depth of faith;
The constitution and patience to
Go as far as needed –
To tame the beast…
To train this thing?
The stench of a still life,
A snapshot of some story
Rattling about in your head,
Draws the beast ever closer –
Snarling, drooling, and
Ready for battle.
Suppositions, superstitions and
Half-finished stories –
The fruit of your imagination –
Is the stuffs of which
The beast creates and cooks
Its nightly repast.
Do you possess it –
The patience and passion necessary to
Tame the beast…
To tame your muse so that
You can put pen to paper and
Clear your wild mind?
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| The muse is in control yet again! |
[18 Feb 2007|10:52am] |
Music
A harmonious voice of creation
An echo of the invisible world
An outburst of the soul
A moral law which gives
Soul to the universe;
Wings to the mind;
Flight to the imagination;
Charm and gaiety to
Life and everything.
The art which is most apt to
Give way to tears and memory.
That which washes away from the soul
The dust of everyday life.
It speaks what cannot be expressed,
Soothes the mind, yielding to rest;
Heals the heart, making it whole again;
Flows from heaven to the soul.
It causes us to dance -
For laughter and tears;
Hopes and dreams;
Fears and madness;
Love and lust.
Music.
To stop the flow of music would be akin
To the stopping of time itself –
Incredible.
Inconceivable.
Music is enough for a lifetime,
But one lifetime is not enough for
Music.
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| *gasp* Guess what? Another new one! |
[18 Feb 2007|10:11am] |
Mortality in the Key of E
A man who know he will not die is
A young man.
Kept young by the knowledge that
Death shall have no dominion,
Nothing’s as hard as
Watching that die.
Who knows
The pain of death better –
He who gasps his final breath or
We who must breathe
The foul air of
His decomposition?
Who bears the greater burden –
The cold bones of
The dead man in his coffin or
The spine of
The pallbearer carrying his load?
No one knows this burden better than
We who have seen so many pass.
If we’re going to die,
We should make it count for
Something –
Make a stand.
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| Another New One - It's Been a Busy Night |
[17 Feb 2007|11:48pm] |
THE WILL TO LIVE
Who should have lived forever,
Living their last?
Who would ever believe that
They would die?
Life is the enemy we cannot defeat,
Only to cling like parasites on
The living flesh of the universe.
Life will always find a way to
Cheat death,
Hoping that we’re not noticed and
Brushed away with
A flick of the hand.
Life is a gift –
As sweet as the freshest peach,
As precious as a gilded jewel.
You will come back –
You MUST come back!
It is your destiny, and
Destiny will not be trifled with.
For we must never forget
What we are –
Or from whom we came.
This is our lifeblood;
Our nourishment.
Without it we wither and
Become nothing.
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| New Poetry - haven't posted in ages |
[17 Feb 2007|11:41pm] |
Midnight's Passioned Plea
His voice was
Silken whispers
In the small hours of the night and
Rolled over me like
A warm lip of ocean –
Pleasurable, caressing.
His lips were velvet;
His tongue a quick wetness.
His breath was hot and sweet
As he whispered into my ear,
“Your pulse I taste like
Cherries on my tongue.
You have taken
My small gift
And polished it ‘til it shone –
Yet your own great gifts
You throw away.
I ran away from your love, and
Now I run towards it so
Let me be covered in your
Silken chains.
Tie me down and
Let me drown in your
Sweet flesh.”
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| NEW POEM - OMG! |
[17 Aug 2005|07:37am] |
ripped away
oh god, she did it.
i don't know how -
didn't think it was possible -
but she did it again.
without the blink of an eye,
she ripped out yet another chunk
of my battle worn heart,
beating and bloody from my chest.
watching her ham-fisted slap
strike across his cherubic face
with such a tyrannical force,
a bit of his soul visably died.
that single malicious act -
an act destroying perfect innocence -
killed that last part of me
holding out hope...
holding out hope for reconciliation -
a future with warmth and understanding
flowing down the river styx
like the blood trickling from his lip.
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[01 Jun 2005|01:52pm] |
Okay - I just kinda threw this together while sitting here in the library... it's a first effort, so please be somewhat kind in your dissections!
( reverenceCollapse )
x-posted
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[10 May 2005|12:27am] |
Okay, tonight has been a writing intensive night. I've been recopying old poems into a nicely bound journal and writing a few new ones. Here's another effort from tonight:
( a first realisation of loveCollapse )
Mushy, sappy sentiment - where is this coming from?
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[09 May 2005|12:08am] |
Here is an attempt at poetry from tonight. Let me know what you think.
( simple pleasuresCollapse )
*sighs* back to the proverbial drawing board, eh?
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[08 May 2005|10:52pm] |
Here is an attempt at poetry from tonight. Let me know what you think.
( life as a slaveCollapse )
I am still in a civil war frame of mind. This poem is my attempt at summing up a slave’s life in the America of the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries and what they faced after the Emancipation Proclamation.
*sighs* back to the proverbial drawing board, eh?
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[06 May 2005|07:50pm] |
I've actually been feeling a bit better tonight. Better enough, anyways, that I felt like writing. Here is tonight's first effort:
masquerade
there was something there –
something in his eyes dark, drowning,
and older than it should have been.
his eyes were the clearest mirrors and
the look was far too intimate –
she reeled back as if that almost gentle touch
was a massive blow to her senses
tasting the first edge of tears,
his eyes lit over her like
that part of them they trap in dreams
and deny during daylight hours.
the tension was there –
painted in neon Crayola flashes
and left hanging for all to see.
their passion twisted and flared
like candle flames in the pale light –
cool, white flames like
that full moonlight which attracts
the lone wolf on his hunt –
helping to pull them through and
reach what they hoped was an endless night.
so start the masquerade –
play the music, don the mask,
and take this illusion in disguise.
as she danced that passionate night
with her only love – this stranger pressed to her –
she scorned the truth of it all
and needed only the lies.
Hmmmmm - kinda dark and mysterious... not so sure it's my best work, but hey! At this point, writing is a great thing because I've been so knackered lately!
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[26 Apr 2005|11:10pm] |
And THIS is why I really don't write much in the way of rhyming poetry:
creation of the world
the mighty gods –
fearsome brothers three –
were at fierce odds
with a giant quite frosty.
they declared a war
and did successfully kill
that might creature of lore
and melded his body to their will.
massive volumes of blood did pour
to form the rivers, lakes, and sea.
dragged out of his awesome door,
the giant’s body was gruesome to see.
pushing and pulling the now cold skin,
molding it like modeling clay,
the brothers pulled and pushed it in
to form lands, hills, and dry bay.
hacked from his mighty bones –
surely a task of which to brag –
their axes and swords made harmonious tones
as they formed many a mountain crag.
from the chips of bones, teeth, and toes,
they formed rocks and pebbles for the sea.
from the hair which on his head rose
the brothers fashioned a tree.
now that their foe was dead,
the brothers, never questioning why,
took the giant’s skull from his head
and used it to dome earth and form a sky.
to hold their dome
in its heavenly rest,
they positioned four gnomes
to hold it up – north, south, east and west.
to light the dark
and to cool off a friend,
they fashioned stars from a spark
and made a giant provide wind.
though there were no moon
or bright warm sun,
the brothers did not fret or swoon
for their jobs had just begun.
and what of these gods –
these brothers three?
they rest in vahalla, looking for odds.
they are odin, vili, and ve.
this is based upon a norse myth describing the creation of the world.
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[22 Apr 2005|04:27pm] |
I wrote this poem today in between doctor appointments. I was feeling alone physically, but not spiritually or emotionally. There was like this phantom feeling, washing over me with warmth and comfort. This was used as the first posting I put up on a new community I formed today too ( obey_the_muse - check it out if you want or don't... won't hurt my feelings any if you don't)...
So here is this latest effort:
alone
alone
physically alone in this world –
frightened as to what tomorrow
may bring for an already
battered and bruise psyche.
alone
moving throughout my day,
from one place to the next –
numb, confused, aware but only just
of the comings and goings around me.
but wait!
what's this?
not alone
your voice is like watered silk
pouring over me, through me.
even though you aren’t there,
i can feel you near.
not alone
your hand clasps mine protectively,
never moving while i deal with
the difficulties, the heartache –
a warmth that guides me on.
so how can that be?
alone, but not alone?
‘though separated by the miles
of rolling highway – each longer
than the one before with its own
story or legend to brag about –
you’re with me
‘though only able to say good night
on a telephone or computer –
cold plastic only warmed by the touch
of electricity or my own hand –
you’re with me
when the nights are long
and my imagination is playing tricks –
making me see shadows as viscous
as half-set strawberry gelatin –
you’re with me
so now the daunting task of
conquering those miles of highway
lies ahead of us – looming large
on a fiery sunset horizon –
unfolding the rest of our tale.
Comments? Suggestions? What do you think?
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[22 Apr 2005|07:00am] |
Just found this one in the vault of poetry collecting on my hard drive; thought I'd share it:
where did you come from?
where did you come from?
you weren’t here just a moment ago –
oh, i know we’re passed this way
a time or two or three…
we’ve even said hello and
maybe even talked for a while…
but where did you come from?
a moment ago, this room was
dark, cold, and lonely…
i was feeling at my worst…
my head hung low with despair;
the night was closing in around me,
tightening its grasp on my throat
like a strangle meant for death.
so, i ask again, just where did you come from?
one moment, i’m on the verge of tears…
then you showed up in my life…
nothing special, just popped by for a chat –
but then, when did we stop by just
for a little chat in all the years
that have gone by?
where did you come from?
you blew into my life like a
the blast from a force-5 tornado –
ripping apart my senses and
shattering my sensibilities…
keeping me so totally enthralled
and returning to this space night after night.
so, i ask, where did you come from?
a moment ago, there was nothing but
the cool, quiet dark, and my despair…
and now, there is a feeling of peace,
warmth… and… something else –
something else left unnamed…
so where did you come from?
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[22 Apr 2005|04:46am] |
Okay - so I wrote this last night. I was kinda in a strange mood and was needing to release SOMETHING - although I don't know exactly what. I'm not happy with it - although I don't know how to tweak it to make it better. Any comments or suggestions would be greatly appreciated, so grab those "red pens" and go to work. ;) And yes, it's still untitled:
looking around, a comfortable feeling settles –
the old faces and names swirl in and out of the fog
like beacons on an endless midnight ocean
that somehow managed to burn.
dancing in and out of my life, always there
just beyond my reach – just out of my sight…
a kindred spirit feeling lost and alone
not knowing which turn to take.
crossing the years and the tears,
we wound up in this space and time –
neither of us quite knowing what
our next move should be.
so, look deeply into in my eyes -
let’s get lost tonight in each other and
share those whispered secrets
we know so well one more time.
we’ve started a story whose end must not wait –
the curtains still dance with the wind and the sky
as music softens until it was only an underscoring
of the movements between our two hearts
your voice - silken threads softly whispered
in the small hours of the night into
a waiting ear and an ever trembling heart –
spending one more night alone.
alone?
how can that be when you were just here –
your fingertips just caressing my face as
your words play my heart like an aria.
so please tell me - when will our eyes meet?
when can finally i touch you?
when will this strong yearning end?
everything inside of me is wanting you and needing you
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