Deep in the stillness,
I wander but a ghost thru mists of shadow & sanguine ..
And the trees bathe in the mystique of Night’s serenade
Covet thee my love immortal,
for we are hunters of a dream untamed;
poetry bleeding into the abyss ...
Candle whispers drink a sky of wine, unto where I sojourn —
in the caress of your lips, and ache of darkest Moon
— Arthur Crow © 2013
Speak to me in roars and booms like thunder,
To inspire wild visions in wonder.
Or whisper like the softest breeze in spring
Of a scholar who overthrew the king.
Debate in Fauvist colours, shamelessly bright
And dare to make sunshine in the dead of night.
Shout and scream, hoarse as the Bedlam inmate
On the dagger-sharp edges of cruel fate.
Lie to me in dull dreams like a trickster god,
Tell tales where I can spark like a lightning rod.
Murmur in tones from falsetto to baritone
And make the planets rumble with a song of their own.
Sing to me more skillfully than an opera star,
Like an angel but holier by far.
Laugh like Balder before the arrow struck;
Confident, easy and just out of luck.
But don't stay silent.