Creators FoundationReturn to me that which is lost.
Be it now or mid-winter's frost.
My template of water and stone.
My pen of tooth and bone.
My parchment of fine, soft sand,
and my heart you hold in your hand.
Template of water and stone,
To lay the foundation.
Pen of tooth and bone,
to enkindle a population.
Parchment of fine soft sand,
to wash away my proclamation.
My heart you hold in your hand,
to begin the cycle of restoration.
Quartz and StoneAugmented flesh of quartz and stone.Quartz and Stone1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
rotting slowly, by Chronos, till bone.
Grooves of time, over malachite,
mark rare beauty, each passing night.
I look away torn, and shed my tears,
as I recognize my darkest fears.
Those weathered lines on stone face fine,
are the very same, marked on mine.
DemonsYou brought your demons to my wall,Demons2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
this wall where demons horde.
You brought your demons to my wall,
this wall where everything is ignored.
The demons of hell and land,
demons that destroy the mind of the child.
The once tame, calm, loving child of the world,
now stained, tainted, reverted, feral,and wild.
You brought your demons to my wall,
where this man stands strong and tall.
You brought your demons to my wall,
where his world is lost and ready to fall.
This wall that crumbles slowly, constantly broken
by the pounding of hammer and thunder.
This wall that has endured time and torture,
now torn apart and left asunder.
I accepted your demons at my wall,
holding back and pushing strong.
I accepted your demons at my wall,
even when I knew it was so very wrong.
Hordes upon hordes now scattered,
fragmented in festering pus.
Only I set forth to retrieve your demons
Unarmored, weaponless, not making a fuss.
Soon you bring more demons to my wall.
Ignoring it's broken state.
Soon you bring
RestorationTake from me my legs,Restoration1 year ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
and no longer can I walk.
Take from me my voice,
and no longer shall I talk.
Take from me my arms,
and forever take my might.
Take from me my eyes,
and forever take my sight.
Take from me my ears,
and never shall I hear.
Take from me my judgement,
and never shall I fear.
Take from me my tongue,
and take away my lies.
Take from me my heart,
and soon I shall......
Lass of Silver MoonHark, thy lass of silver moon.Lass of Silver Moon4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Of thee, and thine and thou-est soon.
A child of love born free of sin.
Cast down from heaven once again.
A thing of beauty, A wondrous dream.
as a crystal river, or diamond stream.
Seeking that world weary heart.
Begin once more, from where thy start.
The World of My DreamsOut of the grass sprang gentle handsThe World of My Dreams1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
that carried me over a field of clovers
And I drifted beneath the clouds,
gazing in the idle wonder
that creeps upon men like curling ivy
There was no bluer sky than that day,
and the trees-
there have never been more hearty trees
than the giant oaks towering above me
as the hands carried me further-
And when I awoke in this mysterious land,
I breathed in the scent of moist grass,
relieved to find that it was not just a dream,
and that the world in which I lived
was as beautiful as the world of my dreams
Ink GravesLetterless words and pageless books-Ink Graves1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and ink blots on the flowers;
Ghosts scratch their heads and tap their pens,
all across the hours.
Winds can howl and cease to be,
by one twitch of my pen;
I spoke of writing a poem tonight,
and by dawn I've written ten.
Emily sits aside nobody,
the Raven, above, waits;
Frost dances in a yellow wood,
among the long lost dates.
A tall, well spoken willow,
looms over the grave;
Protecting every dated word,
and every thought they gave.
I crumple another masterpiece,
with thoughts I'd thought to save;
and as it strikes the baset bottom,
it rests in its ink grave.
Sapphire CastlesLavished in celestial streams of rich azure,Sapphire Castles2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her voice weaves thru star-systems with song
Depthless eyes fabled in mystery furnish worlds,
as conquests of time fold into silence...
She is the mystique of the cosmos 'elixir immortale,
embalming the wilderness of dreams
O'er a thousand skies captive in the fever of her ocean;
my breath anchors, where a life-time of souls drown
in brushed whispers of candle flame
Kingdoms of passion unveil in ethereal tides,
as the sun traces her finger tips over my skin
Burning in Pleiadian mythology I reach into vistas
of indigo towards the lips of a Goddess
Unto sapphire castles I sail, adrift in rhythms of euphoria
Evermore I feast in rivers of mysticism;
lucid galaxies undress upon the tip of my tongue
Flame of her kiss Heaven's supernova, where my soul
shall be slain & made into the perfume of eternity
Hues of gold chase the shadows in my veins..
Artisans of destiny paint the odyssey of gossamer winds,
blushing like desert am
She Holds The CradleShe holds it ever so softly,She Holds The Cradle1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
With a face full of pain.
The cries that it lets out,
A reminder of her shame.
It's the evidence of what she's done,
The soiled prize her body won.
From the men who knew her dreams.
Cradled in her arms so tightly,
The rain runs down her cheeks in streams.
She rocks with it back and forth,
As if lulling it to sleep.
She wants to set it down,
But she's got promises to keep.
She looks down at the ground,
To avoid the stares.
Of strangers, the neighbors,
And people who care.
She wonders if he came too.
The boy she left,
For the men she knew.
At the thought she stops still
What did she lose?
For the price of her skill?
Closing her eyes with a statue like poise,
In the darkness,
She can hold the noise.
She opens her eyes
The crowd is waiting
She stands in the middle of an empty stage,
Sets down her bow and turns the page.
Tucking her violin back under her chin,
She closes her eyes,
Letting the song once again begin.
EchosEcho in chambers,Echos3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The painful voices,
tortured voices screaming,
from neighbours chamber,
horrid, blood curdling,
Screams that shatter,
make ears bleed,
stops beating hearts.
Yet still echos,
once? no then
twice? no then,
thrice! it screams.
Locked away lost,
behind closed doors,
lost, no key,
no way out,
screams for help
go on unanswered.
Wrack, Wrack, Wrack!
The sound, whips,
striking bare flesh,
screams no more,
they are coming,
but feel not,
feel not pain,
just hot, searing,
anger on them,
these demons, yes.
I will escape,
but for now,
shall I endure?
endure the echos,
echos and pain,
pain never ends,
not, at least,
in the echos.
In Memoriam - MariSilver wired windows riddle the webbingIn Memoriam - Mari2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Of some crafty fiend above me, sinking,
On his furled bedmate drinking, drinking;
The crawling sea beneath me's ebbing.
You could hear the waking birds chirrup
To the bustling hefty storm just outside,
Jolting their nests where they reside
As if to be asking, "What's all the stir up?"
Now most of the curling clouds are gone,
And Heaven's spears gave Earth its blood;
Low on the ears letting up on the brawn,
The very last bolt reverberates to a thud!
Vapid are the halls without a sound,
Vapid now as to fill a vagrant soul,
And only through the fixture's bowl
The twitchy light eyeballing the ground.
And a one-one two, one-one two
Rhythm as of knocking past bars
Fades down the line of boudoirs;
Sad drones within on walls to lean to.
My wandering essence so often dwells,
Firmly grasping to the Stave of Hope,
Though now she's not within my scope
I can never seem to muster farewells.
Peering, folded, distantly grotesque,
I know not what I have ye
Lightning BloomsThe rose that blooms,Lightning Blooms1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
as lightning strikes.
In chaotic storms,
And electric spikes.
Petals shocked blue,
stem burnt black.
Against the storm,
the rose strikes back.
With thorns like thistle,
they sting like bees.
Makes a grown man cry,
and the crying man wheeze.
Petals, with radiance,
Every bolt of lightning,
turns ash falling slow.
Stem firmly planted,
roots all but hallow.
The dieing storm passes,
and sun soon to follow.
Fade then to black,
the blooming bulb tilts.
The Stormy Blue Rose,
soon happily wilts.
Then radiance dims,
the blooming bulb closes.
Protected the buds
of tiny red roses.
Untouched BooksDirty fingerprints crust the pagesUntouched Books1 year ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Of the books of forgotten lore
That have laid here before all ages
Untouched from before-
Unconcerned with reason or rhyme,
Longing for those finger-shaped prints,
They have waited all this time,
To be imprinted with darkened tints
But all that meets them is the chilly air,
And the quiet whispers of phantoms past;
And still they wait with silent flair,
To be marked with fingers again at last
Soul AsunderLike a dragon that swoops across this land.Soul Asunder2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Destroying everything in the palm of my hand.
Everything that withers, turns to dust and sand.
Ascension of man into the great north skies.
Where the weak crumble and all hope dies.
Where truth mixes freely with cold, hard, lies.
Breath that lasts till the very end.
Soon will forever bleed without mend.
My heart in glass, no body left to tend.
So shall my soul begin to wonder.
Without fear of death or slumber.
To witness an earth, torn asunder.
Witness ends where man shall remain
To waste the earth in his domain.
End as it will, to begin again.
Widow's WineHeartbeat, a pulse, a taste of lover's wine.Widow's Wine1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Bland, tasteless, what should have been divine.
Anger, and rage, bottled deep inside.
Evil, and cunning, to end this one divide.
Heartbeat, a pulse, a taste of lover's wine.
Weak, breathless, no longer feeling fine.
Headache, and pain, a fall to grout and tile.
Evil, and cunning, watching with a smile.
heartbeat, a pulse, a taste of widow's wine.
SilenceSilence.Silence1 year ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
A language that everyone speaks.
But one that we are not able to hear.
A place where emotions and abandonment meet.
Of which we are forced to confront our buried fears.
There are no more lessons that the agents of society can teach.
An infinite amount of words expressed through a solitary tear.
People dish out advice but never practise what they preach.
A language with the same traits as a hopeful prayer.
A society where people judge others, as they sit back in their self proclaimed seats.
They can no longer understand you and they aware of the darkness that draws near.
Many lives led but we are all accompanied by the same drumbeat
Maybe you don't want to be heard but people will forcefully lend an ear.
Lips fused together, unint
The FaderA whisperer of buried words;The Fader1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
with parchment paper fingertips
she spins a tale of love in vain,
to remind her it isn't to remain.
She blends to the wall like a flower,
bends to it like bamboo.
Something lonely about the way,
she stills and waits to fade away.
(a downcast gaze)
They all play pretty charades,
while she sweeps her game of spades
(and to this day- still one she plays )
She paints portraits of Jays,
whispers that they know her name.
She says that one day they will be all that remains
as the little wallflower fades.
DreamscapesCinnamon swirls stretch you a smile,Dreamscapes1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
while sitting legs underneath
on a wool rug, swayed by the music
of the waves beating
on our glass box.
The first sun-ray of the morning
sprays light between
words of old full of warmth,
hatching the wordlings on our lips.
As you take a sip of your
flavoured apple tea,
I drink the bitter black one
sweetened with milk
and a little bit of honey;
just like your tales of
south of the border,
west of the sun,
and my futile attempts
to leash that bitch of a muse.
All is well until
a desolate reason makes
the ocean break us;
and before words drift apart,
you pull them out of the flood,
and rebreath them:
"In a dream within a dream,
where people's faces are pale,
tired and beautiful because of it;
ours are different and alike.
They glow on sunlight
and read a craving for home.
My high heels and your all-stars;
Moving through different streets;
Stepping on different stones,
but alight with the same fire.
Mandatory stops along the way
seem infinite and hard t
White RoseI'm searching for a white roseWhite Rose1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Among a sea of crimson red
That litter the field in countless throes
Looking for life among the dead
I see one withered black rose,
And one red with gleaming thorns,
But not a hint of white within the rows
Of both the old and the newborns
I stop and sit to take a rest,
Watching blue skies give into red,
Holding this hope within my breast
That I might find life among the dead
I have been searching all my life
As countless others did before me,
Searching for the truth among questions rife,
For a hint of white among a red sea
And forever I will search the field
Where the red roses thrive,
Hoping for the White Rose to yield
And help our souls to revive
MarionetteThe strings dig deep into her veins.Marionette1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
She moves with them,
To dull the pain.
A painted face,
With a printed smile,
Her emotions left unversitile.
She dances alone, secluded,
Forlorn and deluded.
And only for her twisted master.
A mental crafter,
A vile bastard.
but this is a show.
the people can see it
the people they know,
this is no secret.
their eyes glazed over
like shes no longer there
ignoring her existence,
she finds comfort in despair.
welcome to the show.
on stage, a girl
who you might as well know.
Only I can see the tears,
And only I know all her fears.
I flick my fingers to the right,
On my command she stands up right.
I flick my finger to the left.
She'd murder all the ones she left.
she dances with a smile.
that does not reach the eyes,
it looks so sick and vile
a soul that believes its lies.
Maybe its love,
i've heard it's supposed to ache.
Or maybe she's insane,
because even the strong can break.
I don't know the reasons,
Or why she's bound and cha
Threadswithin the thin threads of a soulThreads1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I've found the tangles of a strong love
and death's cloak
SummerI want books and comfortable clothesSummer9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Poetry that is easy to read and rosy cheeks
I want the sunlight to make me squint
Hair tangled, forehead glistening, a song sung in my mind
I want me
Little smiles out of chapped lips and scratchy cheeks
I want sun and music and a tan that lasts weeks
I want driving sixty down suburban roads with the windows down
I want touching and kissing and summer and breathing and
I want hours that take minutes to pass by
To know we're shy and not care
If you want we can even get high
With your blue and orange pipe, we can pack our laughter
All the movies we've watched, the times you've rubbed my shoulder
I want to be under the influence of you
A Byron AdviceFaireth the morn, till the sunlit ember shineA Byron Advice1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And watcheth the pearl effervescence of the moonshine
Hark, and hear the cry of larks, the sound of waves
As you watch the shores of life pass by
Shineth the whiteness, as the poet is invited
The phoenix, omnipresent, solemn as cited
Fair be the man, a shine of diamond, in stark
contrast the vastness, a vestige of the Ark
Guideth both, but nigh, fair maiden,
For you must venture forth, and bid thine shade and
farewell. For what is ambivalence, when he who is above
Knoweth that our punishment... is our love...
Faireth thine journey well, both of ye...
And press forth forward, with warmth and glee
For there is not a moment's notice, before the shores of the sea
Alas, set aft, and are as damned as life can be...
Thundering Sea!Seahorses thunder towards shoreThundering Sea!2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Galloping high on crest of waves
This moment they ride storm
Jumping surf, courageously brave.
Foam creates memorible images
Carved from angry violent sea
Manes, tails fly in wind wildly
Equine display, totally free.
Noise of hoofs beneath waves
Rumbles sound like thunder
Nostrils flare, herd drives storm
Stand in absolute wonder.
Reluctantly wind blows itself out
Seahorses sink gradually into waves
Gone like storm, moment is over
Images seared into thunderstruck brain.