DragonsDragons.Dragons10 years ago in Free Verse
Some say they never were,
And were birthed from imagination.
The same say that fantasy
Is the realm of children and the insane.
To believe in the magical,
And the fantastic
Is to be as a child or a madman.
I am neither and I believe in dragons.
The majestic Lords of skie
Born of fire.
In an averie of flames
The eggs lie
Warmed by mothers breath.
Emerging weak and hungry,
Unfurl for the first time.
For mothers attention.
Noble, proud and powerful
Lords of the skie
Reach the very stars with
A thermal sigh
And one thunderous wingbeat.
Upon the winds they soar
Breaking free from earths hold.
Higher, faster, beyond the limits.
All nations praise them
And they do not exist?
Fools, they are about you!
Dragon, Wyvern, firedrake
Black, white, blue, red
The old bronze
The nobel silver
The regal gold
The death dragon
The luck dragon
Dragons! Live breath fire and flame
Mighty in body, glory in na
.you forget that.2 years ago in Free Verse
roses have thorns;
a prick of the
skin will tell you
that you're holding
her too tight
The WolfThe Wolf12 years ago in Free Verse
Eternal guardian of the forest
Whose pale eyes glow from the shadows
Running with the wind, fluid and sleek
Your fangs alone make the law
With the stars reflecting off your coat
Of burnished silver fire
Your ears are alert and forward
As a howl echos in the distance
Standing alone, watching through the night
As the moon travels the path of the sky
Unknown, unseen, but forever needed
Wolf...protector of the forest
Protect the weak, join the strong
Pass the birthright to your young
Wolf...guardian of the forest
May you always remain eternal
The WolvesTheir enchanting voicesThe Wolves10 years ago in Free Verse
Cry to the crystal moon
As light of silver
Descends with grace
The pale river sparkles
It shivers uncontrollably
Chilled by their cries
Time is frozen
The moment slowly fades
The wolves prowl restlessly
Calling to each other
A song of wonder
Fills the air
None have heard it before
Though it is as ancient as the moon
IndistinctYou have not a voice, so that you can whisper.Indistinct3 years ago in Free Verse
Then how will you your secret tell?
When you say nothing.
Because you cannot.
You have not color, for the daylight to see.
So how may I know of your secret, do tell me?
When there is now nothing to look upon.
Because the light won't let me.
You have not kindness in your inherited temper.
So how can you give away so much?
When all you have is love.
You are of so many riddles.
Who, you cannot manifest,
Though I know, you biggest riddle is empathy.
WolfI saw my soul that dayWolf10 years ago in Free Verse
I saw it in a pair of amber eyes
Full of sorrow and understanding
I saw the true me that day
In the swiftness of running
On four feet instead of two
Claws and teeth ferocious
As well as kind
I found my true name
In the warm grey fur
Hard and stiff like rocks
Yet soft like velvet
I saw how wonderous the wild is
In song, and soft moss bedding
To work as a team, and to love
I found myself that day
I was lost and blind before
I found myself in the eyes
The eyes of a wolf
He showed me the path
That was hidden
The magic of living again
Not dying, if not for him
I would be dead
I shall never forget that wolf
Who saved my life
Who showed me my true self
My true name
And who to trust it with
Bisexual PrideBisexual Pride5 years ago in Free Verse
Yes I am bi
No it does not matter
Every person is as good as the latter
I love differently
Yet I think the same
Many may say it but I am not insane
It's not a phase
or a lust for sex
It is me on the inside being myself
While It BurnsWhy does a moth flyWhile It Burns2 years ago in Free Verse
Directly into the flame?
Perhaps its captivated
By the beauty to be found
In such pure recreation
It flies so surely
Into its own death
Because it believes
The flames of rebirth
Will allow it a second chance
And perhaps that this time...
It will appear a butterfly.
Perhaps this is the only thing
It can force itself to believe
While it burns.
RedMoon WolfsLet me tell you a word,RedMoon Wolfs9 years ago in Free Verse
A word of the book of the moon
When earth was born
Wolfs ruled all
And from wolfs were born
Their messengers of the red moon
When the flower of lunar blooms
May the paradise of wolfs be opened
By the wolf of legend
His fur as white as the lunar flower
His blood as pure as the ocean is blue
Unbreakable even to his own heart
He guides the wolfs of brown and gray
And to the end is were they are to stay
In the end I will tell you now
Blood ran free on the snow covered ground
As the wolf of black appeared to kill
To take the flower
And murder it still
Though her blood alone is poison,
The one of black drank the curse
Killing him from inside
He taints the snow,
Making it red
Only as one
May paradise be opened
Blood of the white wolf
And the lone lunar flower
Only then may the flower bloom
Opening the doors to paradise
LoveLove4 years ago in Free Verse
It's something in all of us,
different but still the same.
It's a way of expression;
some times normal,
well some times strange.
It's a feeling that you have;
or sometimes sad.
It's a curse,
or a blessing.
It makes you lose yourself,
or helps you discover who you truly are.
It's something that will always happen,
whether like it or not.
But something that can't be controlled,
or be freed.
But always be happy,
that you can love.
A Wolf's LullabyA Wolf's Lullaby10 years ago in Free Verse
Looking through my opened window
Unable to sleep at all
I hear a wolf's cry
Full of sadness and pain
At the sound of it I start to cry
Running into the forest with only my pjs
I follow the trails of wolves
Looking for wounded soul that cried
Finding the wounded animal
Knowing it's about to die
I get on my knees and craddle it's head
Singing a wolf's lullaby
Several years later unable to sleep again
I hear the sound of wolves crying
Full of happiness and rejoice
I fall asleep at the sound of a wolf's lullaby
BlewI could never dream of EnglishBlew6 years ago in Free Verse
rains that lashed the slabs of Cornish
paves, as a wild clawed cat paws
waves into boats onto rocks
unto death. Hear the slosh
slosh slosh of Mousehole harbour's
bathtub slop; see the gulls flying
backwards, the rainbows as warning
flags, the white horses blowing
up the cliff and over the heath,
taste the wind-nipped salt
drying on your lips. Once I felt
the lightning buzz before
it cleaved a nearby birch in two,
once saw the eye of Men-an-Tol
winking in the storm, and fish
jumping for their very lives
straight into the mouths of birds.
The sea is everywhere. It bites
at our ankles, gnaws at the crags
in cliffs until the whole world
tumbles into its steaming maw.
It rises and falls, rises and falls,
hailing into the flanks of miserable
animals on the storm-sodden tor.
Do they pine, as we do, for one
last breath of stagnant summer?
l'hiver.(you can't tell the birds and the snow apart in the sky:l'hiver.4 years ago in Free Verse
the grand church of dizzying space - )
and the trees are yellowed in cowardice, raking the sky
to the ground and around and around.
listen to your organs: the almost grand piano of the
churches i'd never attend.
and never mistake the courage of the sky for the cowardice
of the ground. never frown, never frown.
listen to your palms: the salty swing of the old snow
burning up on silk and splendor.
and visit the dying snow birds in their graves of the
ground, and they drown and drown.
(you can't tell the birds and the snow apart in the sky:
a grand church of dizzying space will reply. why. why.
would my white birds die.)
a promise.i ama promise.6 years ago in Free Verse
a summer day,
riding a bike
crashing; i am scarred,
but i am
healing. i am
in a city of leaves,
i am the ice
pressed against skin,
raising goosebumps; i
am the powder drifting
from the sky,
and i am the grass
from underneath white.
i am life.
rootslike drowned men who have lost theirroots4 years ago in Free Verse
clothes and faces, they lay suspended
facing the sun and grinning without
eyes through the ripples of the water.
those passing by wonder how they got here,
these homeless men without fingers or toes
long spindly stumps twisting into lost roots:
reaching to the east, to the south,
to the homes they have forgotten.
saltsaltsalt7 years ago in Free Verse
the sky was pierced by graphite rain. the ground hissed and bled, oozing daisy-pus, cracks that ran into the bark. there was no song. there was no girl in an umber gown on the horizon, tossing fistfuls of hair to the wind. for lack of sacrifice, the air lost itself to dryness.
if you offer your mouth to the clouds now, you will taste salt. the neighboring plateaus hold seabeds on their tongues. bedrock of needle-bones and fossil. in our spines the instinct to bend / to burrow into dream.
do not stroke our coal-striped necks: our speech hammers without musicality. do not reach for the pearls we will swallow them for safekeeping. this room of rain does not make you one of us. this room without walls withholds more than you think.
titans.they don’t tell you thattitans.2 years ago in Free Verse
sisyphus just let the rock roll down
and collect his body
they don’t tell you that you can still walk
with holes in your legs
and you can still love
when your heart has already been ripped open.
they don’t tell you that
you are 75% of an ocean
that is six miles deep
and eats ships alive,
75% of the water that shapes canyons,
75% of the rain that drowned the earth
for forty days and nights.
they don’t tell you that
your body is made of the same carbon
they don’t tell you that
there is a fire burning inside of you
or that your bones are stronger than steel
or that the things that fuel you
fuel tigers, too.
the greeks and romans wrote stories about
how strong you were
and you are icarus,
and you died laughing
because they didn’t tell you
how beautiful the world really was
even as it was swallowed
by the waves.
An Australian song for a tragic timeTRAGEDYAn Australian song for a tragic time3 years ago in Free Verse
Seasons change across the Great Southern Land
With spring now past, the long summer comes
Hot and hotter, temperature thirties, forties
Forest and grasslands drying fast, fuel to burn
To this tinderbox land, Tragedy comes searching
Prophetic remembrance, yet with all vainglory
The very tragic muse, harbinger of many woes
Now gazes around with burning eyes, dramatic
Such presence is contagion, anguish follows
A carrier of grief to many; exaggerated woes
All acknowledged by a fiercely scorching sun
The great fires return, raging, without respect
The land burns, cinders flying, smoke, so intense
Flames reaching high, higher, licking treetops
Consuming, endangering all, a conflagration
Changing weather, fearsome, traumatic, tragic
BITTERNESS AND HOPE
Witness the fiery fury, hot as hell, blackening
Until the land is in ruins, charred and twisted
The smoke pall casting shadows across the sun
The remains of life, shaken, almost shattered
Now dark Tragedy stands, ashen faced, bitter
Of Snake Charmers and TreesThere are mathematiciansOf Snake Charmers and Trees2 years ago in Free Verse
that calculate the gravitational pull
that tethers us to one another,
teasing sense out of the fabric
of Time and Space like
wizened snake charmers.
I thought them so horribly unromantic,
searching for logic amidst wildflowers--
reasoning being reason enough
to put one foot in front
of the other each day.
True beauty lay printed
on petals and pages,
where I delved for pearls;
the patterns in the pathos
intriguing me into each
rising of the sun.
I do not remember when
it occurred to me that without fractals
there would be no trees, nor without love
would people have any reason
to calculate the distances that
separate them from their muses.
Horses, HorsesHorses, Horses10 years ago in Free Verse
Through the window in my mind
as I watch from behind my closing eyes
with the joys of happiness dripping through my veins
I see charging violently,
With their eyes full on fire.
I see horses.
Brilliant bright lights blinding.
Horses, horses blinding me softly.
emitting from their shining bodies
and rhythm sounding powerfully
from large elegant hooves.
Bright, shining light
from their glowing silver bodies.
from brilliant black outlines.
Freedom ebbing from pulsing veins
reverting back toward my gaze
feelings of wonder.
bright and shining,
free and wild.
They gallop from within my weak grip
And disappear as I awaken my eyes
To view their full, great beauty.
But they have gone.
They have flown.
Stretching out powerful strides
running from this mist,
that surrounds me.
They have gone.
Left me alone.
They were horses, horses
Free before my eyes.
On fire with beauty
Miyamoto Musashi's Poetrywe reconstruct the manMiyamoto Musashi's Poetry11 years ago in Free Verse
from shards of paper and pottery
(a shrike in ink
a small wooden bodhisattva
a practical treatise on swordplay)
he said his only teacher was Nature
which is a fine thing to say
when you're good at everything
they say he slew Ganryū
with a length of oar
he'd whittled on impulse into a sword
so much for the soul of the samurai:
not metal, flashing and hard
priceless and irreplaceable
only a discarded wooden spar
emerging from refuse
to refuse returning
and perhaps his poems were the same
nourished by earth and water
whispering an answer to wind
burbling off towards the long sea
and this is how history left him
and this is how I might find him:
an old man on a mountain
preparing future warriors for poetry
writing his way back
into the world that wrote him
when he emerges from his grotto to converse with the single scarred wholeness of the moon, I steal towards his poems and brush the pages across my hands, like reaching for a damselfly at rest, to see how his b