Drifting down
into mist shrouded valleys
The wind whistling in your ears
Then up
into the heavens where
the stars greet you
Then back to reality.
Category: Poetry
Inspiration
Inspiration irritates me
in the long thin hours of dark
When the witches bewitch
and the devils bedevil
and the faeries flutter
in gold and silver streaks
accross the starry woods.
The pixies light their lamps
among the black and blue trees
The mermaids sing their song
to the hushing moonlit tide
on a faraway shore
The white horses sparkle
silver in the starlight
The unicorn awakens from slumber
in the most sacredly secret
most deeply distant
most mysteriously magic
part of the woods
He awakens slowly sleepy
among the oldest and ancient roots
of the fig tree
Shakes from his body the dew
He must be up and about by three
He lifts his head and opens his wise wide eyes
and inspiration irritates me
Tugging and teasing my mind
in the long thin hours of dark
the most magical of times.
Serving Self Denial
Slow soul-serving silence
Fleeting noise
A cold defiance
Stuck with words
I cannot speak
Hand so gentle
touch my cheek
*
Serving self denial
so close to heaven
so much like hell
The serpent twists
round the holy grail
Slow ring-a-rosie
and from grace I fell
*
From the cup
she takes a sip
Approaches close
licks my lip.
The Broken Throne
The broken throne
of something past
He was first
I will last
Make the mold
break the cast
The broken throne
of something past.
*
I kill the urge
of mortal sight
Do you know
what’s wrong – what’s right?
Me and all
my mortal might
I kill the urge
of mortal sight.
*
In fleeting moments
death draws near
In all defiance
I show no fear
When he’s close
life is clear
In fleeting moments
death draws near.
*
I cannot see
wood for tree
I cannot see
what’s good for me
I lost it down
on waters edge
I lost my crown
in a thorny pledge
I tried to save
a mortal soul
and fell…myself
in this mortal hole
The cross was not
my idea
My sweat and blood
no mortal tear.
*
The broken throne
of something past
He was first
I will last
Make the mold
break the cast
The broken throne
of something past.
Best Times
The best times of my life are gone.
Black Friday.
Pick yourself up, pieces.
It’s time to move on.
Black Friday.
*
I lie so very well
What you see aint what you get.
No-one could tell
I have a wounded heart.
I may look fine
they say I look handsome, pretty
but you’re not mine
and I’m not yours anymore.
*
I was always a rebel
My mama says live like society
Well mama do tell
Must I follow a society
that justifies war
that hates all it can’t understand
and so far
it’s killed me and my love.
Ode to the Barbarian Warrior
battle-axe
burning through the air.
Seeking out a skull
to split open.
Like a virgin
the skull splits apart.
Sheds warm red blood.
Sheds life.
*
Still I burn and yearn
for warm blood
for someone elses life.
The fight is on.
The night cold and calm.
Iced steam flares
from my nostrils.
Entangled in battle.
Hands calm cool
blind.
*
The battle-axe is my shepherd
I shall not want
It makes me want to fight
In nights of hate
It leads me through battle rough
It’s shaft and steel will lead me through
and comfort me
In deaths dark valley
I shall spill blood
Red rivers of hate and fear
Victory will always be mine.
On the Brink
I’m on the brink of some great event.
Something large and heavy is hurtling toward me.
I can feel the rumbling in the ground.
Hear the thunder.
Feel the shift in the air.
The unsteady winds whipping.
I’m about to fall off the edge.
Backwards.
Falling to disaster.
A new beginning?
Let me see…let me see.
Where Were You?
The early morning mists
taunts your imagination and memories.
Stare into the grey distance
with intense fascination and silence
Vague shapes and shadows
ghosts from a past
meaningful whispers
words that didn’t last.
*
Where were you
when I was cold and clammy
Where were you
when I didn’t have any
or anyone?
*
Fears stride high
and play in my mind
for fun
I reach out in hope
there’s no-one I find
but you.
With a touch you can heal
vanquish my fears
With your words you console
I can hold back my tears.
The Evil Fantastic
Black sleek
silver flashes
Lightning in the night
Shiver-shining across scales
of the Black Beast
Claws of yellow bone
hard and scarred
Knuckles
powerful hinges
Fingers
scaled and slender
Tendons of wire
*
Face filled with hellfire
washed with blood
and flamed flesh
Eyes yellow
hot
Black slit
Tongue
forked and fang flanked
Evil intent on its solitary mind
Deep within its burning brain
In it’s ribs seeth and stoke
the demons
Big bat cloak for its cloak
and for its flight
It’s tail for the fight
The Evil Fantastic.
Dragon Slayer
There in the Black Dragon hunting ground.
The cave seems deeper than nightmares.
A choking roar comes forth.
Cold sweat trickles as he approaches.
At the mouth of the cave
he lights the torch.
The stalegmites and stalegtites
look like great teeth.
The flame of the torch licks
the roof of the cave.
Clouds of steam float by.
Swirling as if alive.
The cave widens.
There is the dragon asleep.
It looks helpless, innocent.
One eye opens.
A cat eye, greater in malice.
The warrior draws his sword.
Took too long.