Raindrops on my Cheek

I awoke to raindrops upon my cheek, The window slightly ajar helps me sleep, Though it lets in the storm, now dark and deep. Restless, I sat upon the ledge and peeked, Hoping to catch sight of the lightning streak, That will surely shatter this peace I keep. I know, I know this moment’s peace … Continue reading Raindrops on my Cheek →

An Ode for a Dear Friend

What can be said of your smile, That has not already been written, In the poetry of higher beings, That sing of angels and gods? What can be said of your soul, That has not been likened, To the vespertine spirits, Or to blackheart devils?

Candy Star

Betwixt strands of her colored hair - Red for passion, devil-may-care; Blue of a cool, frivolous air - Frames eyes of a burnished gold, bared, Staring, daring, Only to laugh, then, disappear.

Philosopher, Reborn

A fly in the library, Gorges itself with ancient wisdom, And dies within the day.

Staring at the Cut

I stared at the bloody cut between my body and soul -It is not a physical sort of pain,This doomed wound,It is the absence of being, the gap between, a hole,Wound soundly around,The very concept of what makes you whole. Prompt: from the kind writers over at the pub, dVerse, “Wound” as part of their Quadrille … Continue reading Staring at the Cut →

A Lighthouse Beam

Shimmering like a lighthouse beam, My voice goes out to you at sea, To say there's no safe haven here, Beware the rocks, stay safe and clear, Pass on in the calm of the night, Or in the storm take heed my light, Don't thank me, just do as you do, I do this, because … Continue reading A Lighthouse Beam →

Luna Wept

Luna wept to behold her visage,Upon the inner lakeshore of Skye,And on the precipice of the rocky crags,Her tears ran like vinegar light,Rivulets of her loneliness dissipating, Smelling of burnt sap and children's sighs,While I found myself growing old,Drowning in her long lost love.

A flowery scent

Along the coastline,A broken-hearted lover,Blooms with eau de salt. A flowery scent,Carried by a hot Spring breeze,Mingles tears with hope. In the midland towns,With opened windows released,Hidden flowers bloom. A lonely fool sighs,Drearily glances outside,Sniffs, whispers "Lilies." The breeze dies, winds cool,The scent lingers on moonlight,Recalled in sad dreams.

From the Midlands to the City

Outside my window,The thrush tweets in the warm air,A song I wish you could hear. I stopped to listen,The city noises ring loud,But I hear you, still, singing.

The Vacuous Sigh

I took a sip of hemlock today, So that I might die a philosopher, Imparting upon the world wisdom, Or, the very least, a pithy remark, But as the dark shroud fell over me, No terrible truths fell from my pale lips, Just the vacuous sigh, "Oh, I see," As oblivion stole my breathe away.