Category: Poetry

Flower o’ Life

The shadows are recedingFlower of Life
the dawn is near
Freshness wet and calm
All will be clear
The waiting has begun
calm cool quiet
patiently waiting
to feel the light
The well-being of
a clear silver pond
The sparkle of the dew
and still I wait
Like the silence before dawn
waiting to be filled
with life
with light.

To be touched with caring tenderness
like smooth softness
like water
The slow sensation of twilight
A star in the overpowering
blackness of night.

And slowly the flower o’ life
opens
Full and beautiful
slow and majestic
and I want to touch her.

Storms

The curtains bulge forwardStorms

Waving and flicking like snakes tongues

Dark

A pit with no end beyond the shattered window

Sharp

quivering arrows

from an invisible bow

flash past

come nearer

but never hit

Cold

like sharp teeth biting at your will

The wind

An invisible net

thrusting at the haggard rubble and curtains.

The Grave

I found it beneath the little statue with the freshly turned soil. How had I not seen it before?
Looking down into the grave I saw my undead child and the rage within me burst yellow, blazingly bright and a howl of hate tore from my throat and shook the earth.

It was a rage of hate and smite. It was a rage that would destroy anything to blame with no conscience and all the malice to be painted with as much blood as possible, as much pain that could be crushed from wet bone.
Fuck I have vivid dreams.