Tag Archives: hope

Affair with a Lion

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Forgetful past of stolen soldiers
sought by hunters.
Perhaps a dance of blade and blood
and bone.
Perhaps forgotten, but untainted,
unaltered,
of soldiers, of hunters,
of death by stones.

And yet, naïve, and innocent,
and blissful to a fault,
I catch a whim, so close to home
that may be deadly to my heart.
But breeze and bronze
together in a crown
find me forgetful of my past.
And without fear, or even
acknowledgement
I continue to walk my path.

Into a den
of deep and dark
and bats hung by black walls,
and drips of drops
of tears from old
by stalactites they still fall.
Into a cove
of dark and dim
from which echoes loud snores
until the beast of king
of here
awakes and then he roars.

On soft white feet
child-and new
with mud caked around ankles dry,
I pad across soft,
smooth stone
and ask if I shall have life.

The bars have closed
behind me.
The boulders block my way.
Only forward
am I allowed
only here, and stay.
And blood stains on walls
and floors
and the lion’s maw,
and flesh caught bare
and tattered and torn
upon his claw.

And his deadly eyes
flash amber,
and his silent air
screams bleak
and my future with him
here in his cavern
seems less than I might believe.

And my innocence turned
black again
and heart captured in fear;
an affair with danger,
with a sauntered grasp
with lines to which I must adhere.

And my ashes
brought to surface.
And my face pallid
as cold ice.
And his golden mane
glows brightly,
and his eyes
mirror mine.

And I see the blood upon him
and the tears that lay below
and the gashes in his chest and paws
that were hidden by sorrow.
And the injuries that no other saw
for the hunters hunt him too,
the lion, so powerful, so strong,
hurt by selfish truce.

And the lion, so yet cold
to fight on every hunter near.
No one may pass, forbidden glass
shattered by deaf ears.

His amber eyes run me up and down,
suspicious of my stance.
Am I just another woman with a gun,
or will he understand?

With hesitant steps
on scarred-up paws
he treads across pure stone.
Gazes into my cautious eyes
and is suddenly less alone.
Places a paw before me,
a truce by any thought.
I take my hand, place it on his
and lose the past that I forgot.

And I am innocent again.

And he lays down
on cool black stone,
watching me with care.
I sit beside him,
lay beside him,
and somehow I feel him there.
I feel his claws, his deepened breath.
The smell of thick-dried blood,
hanging humid in the air.
I curl up beside him,
fingers in his mane,
a kiss to his forehead
and a smile with his name.
An affair with my killer,
the prey loves her hunter,
danger, and terror,
and folly-ful blunder.

And yet, my lion, so cold,
so distant,
alone in the world,
and I as his mistress,
his heart and his love
his silly little girl.

Finally starting to get back into the hang of things. Granted, I don’t think my writing is as good as it could be, I guess that’s what stress does to me, but I’m getting there.

This is mostly about the danger of love itself. Putting all of your heart into one person could very well kill you, and has before. But when you truly love someone, you become a child again, and take a risk. And sometimes, it’s worth it.

There Was no Beginning

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Secretly
(and selfishly),
I still,
When captured by inopportunity,
Think back to those days
Underneath a blanket of clouds,
Above a blushing sky,
Pink and orange and golden.
I still remember us.

I still remember moments i locked away
Never to be considered.
But on those moments replicated,
A deja vu
The days I wish I never knew
That tore me to pieces
Because of you
And your lack of understanding.

You still don’t understand.

And upon a moment
Left bare and bone
Seeds that will never be unsewn
Flesh torn out in tiny pieces
There is no mend.
There was no beginning
And no end
And left no corpse of what I may lament.
And left no evidence
But a handprint.
And left no soul behind.
There is no middle part to remember.

And I realize, that secretly, I’ve begun to hate you.
I’ve no grounds behind my claim
No legitimate justification
Of why I still leave you to my blame.
I know only that I sometimes remember
But only when I hear your name
For in every other moment of my life
You were nothing more than a phase.

And now you’re easy
To erase.

The Picket Fence Life

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His eyes are far away, in lands soft and dizzy.
His heart is miles lost, and to a fault less than leery,
he holds up in his hands the moments of doubt.
He tends to forget sometimes what his life is about.

In sunsets. In moonlight, in fireflies dancing
in dewdrops, in mornings, in the minutes still passing,
he frets that his life will fall to pieces on the floor
and I don’t know how to tell him, he need not worry anymore.

I wrap my arms around him, whisper in his ear,
“I will protect you forever, worry not my dear.
You are the stronger man in any woman’s eyes.
You’ll have everything you want, whatever you desire.”

I tell him of the days that I wait so anxiously for,
the opportunities he’s brought to me, the ones I’ve placed at his door.
The moments when we grow old, and the youth we have still now,
I kiss his cheek softly, smooth the wrinkle from his brow.

He will be married to a wife who’d give up her heart.
He will have the life of a king, she will hold close to the start.
She promises him everything, anything he wants and more,
she’ll give him her heart, her soul, whatever he asks for.

He will have children who are wrapped around his legs,
with tiny hands and arms, put them to sleep in tiny beds.
He will spend nights at home, happily content with peace.
He will go to sleep each night, and wake up beside me.

He will have power in the career of his choosing,
he’ll treat his coworkers well, without over-abusing.
He’ll trust his earnings into salary micro-managed,
he is a strong man, he will have his plan.

And when he is old and grey, I will still be beside him,
we’ll watch our kids get old, and we will still confide in.
We’ll still be the best friends we are, and a life still left unaltered
the love we have now will have grown yet still, and untarnished and unfaltered.

He listens to my tales of surreptitious pandering,
A smile finds his lips as he hears my senseless ramblings.
I’ve said all this before, but it still comforts him to hear
that no matter where he goes in life, I’ll still always be here.

Wherever You Are

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Behind black brick,
beneath grey stone
caught in steel shackles
behind iron bars;
without sound or echo
void even of rats
in buried dungeons, I’ll find you
wherever you are.

Caught in thorns of brambles,
caged by fallen trees
beneath swollen skies and tempest
captive held by angry breeze;
rain-spattered ground as quicksand
sunk deep in darkened tarn
mirrored eyes in dewdrops
and held by captor, Harm.
Vines entangled around unbalanced ankles
arms spread wide and far,
in fallen forests, I’ll protect you
wherever you are.

On dark ground stolen from innocent
beneath skies palid and grey,
among forgotten sorrow and lost remains
of an only slightly happier day.
Surrounded by flames that lick your blood,
tearing holes into your legs,
charring flesh and burning skin
taking air with desperate dregs.
In seas of ash with tides of dust
on scorched earth fried from life,
the grass so far, in distant lands
under watch of pebblestone eyes.
Through flames and ash and fallen blood
and over bodies black as tar,
in earth as lost as Hell itself, I’ll save you
wherever you are.

In time worn old by moments
that have past and gone,
behind us, before them,
then, and now, and alone;
in a world foreign but familiar
beneath skies younger than I
dark with clouds, and light with the sun
and stars that burn too bright;
and the moon that saw no footprints
and the Everest never scaled
and the apple never fallen
and the humanity never failed;
beneath a Heaven still held holy
above a Hell still held fear
below the grace of what will be
and above the future so held near;
torn to pieces by the deafened silence
of peasants and kings ripped raw
in sancitity of what had never been
but will be by Fate’s law;
in a time less like ours, where I am not
and have not lived so far
far in the past, the future, never still,
I’ll find you, wherever you are.

Laughter in the Rain

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In a dream I had with pieces that once left missing,
I saw a silver gown that fell below my toes.
And from the clouds above that blinded every angel
I met the mists of rain that sought to turn me ghost.
And all the people in the crowds jumped up and scrambled
to reach the cars, or buildings, rooms of dry safety.
And yet upon turning my attention back to what mattered,
I saw thet he was still standing proudly beside me.
In a suit of black slowly turning blacker
as the rain fell down and caught upon his cheeks.
His smile remained and his eyes held only laughter
as he walked closer and wrapped his arms around me.

Freefalling

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Fanned out fingers catching breezes,
a dozen thoughts provoked without valid reasons.
Tresses of hair tousled by seasons;
as if I could forget you are my heart.

A glance over the edge of a skyscraper,
the silent, lost eyes of a dreaming gazer;
tossed by the wind as light as paper.
Distractions capture dreamers like a web.

And chained by eerie obligation
held unreliably by justification.
Perhaps not more than sickly-sweet sedation
and a fall into the sky.

Thrown beyond all inhibition,
hair thrown back in new disposition.
Eyes stitched shut, wary elation;
will a savior come cease this fall?

A parachute cut short of strings,
a struggle with more mortal things–
wed to Grim with eternal rings,
but forever alive in spirit, in soul.

A fool, trapped blind in swollen bliss.
Steady clouds that shed a mist.
Forgotten sorrow traded for happiness,
until eyes open once more.

Pavement spread like grain and grass,
unspoken truce of shattered glass
and shattered bone may come to pass.
Closer, closer, meters away.

Heart speeds, jumps out of my chest,
eyes washed white, and black, the rest.
Moon cataracts, for which I’m blessed;
that I might not watch myself crumple.

Arms thrown out, entrapping me.
And from the ground, only a couple feet,
but in his arms where I’m supposed to be–
my Superman.

My Role in the World

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If all the world is a stage:

Then I must be a bard.
Whispering sweet echoes
of words that never meant anything,
a fictional story from deceitful lips.
A promised tale of a forbidden kiss,
a song of glass shattered in cold white loss.
The quiet cooled, the coin my cost.
The whole world an audience
with clapping hands
or perhaps with scorn
for they don’t understand.
And scowls profaning cheeks
with soft pink blush,
shouting obscenities
that make me flush.

Then I must be an actress
with a painted face.
A smile, and tears
that I cannot erase.
A gown of gold, a crown of silver
in my hair,
and audience below me
without a care.
With other thoughts in mind
than who I really am.
Only eyes for the girl
that I must pretend.
And eyes for the man
that I do not love,
but the character I play
is written to must.

Then I must sing
with a sheltered voice.
Tempered too sharp,
feet without poise.
Words that mean less
than they do to me.
Because my audience
is too blind to see.
Heart on heart, I stand,
pouring out my soul;
if all the world’s a stage
then I must have no role.

Linger

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The way we kiss when caught in traffic,
the stolen moments I keep captive;
in memories, in soft-spoken dreams
come true.

The heart you hold in open hands,
the moment you start to understand,
I’ve never known a love
quite like for you.

The secrets we hold close between,
my soul for you, your heart for me.
A smile shared in silent-held
happiness.

The smell of you upon my clothes,
the parts of you that no one knows.
No other woman could
ever feel such bliss.

The moments spent in a little world
made only for us, by only word,
no intruders,
no one left to care.

The moments just after you have gone,
the lingered essence that still lives on.
And I desperately wish
that you could still be there.

Silent Emeralds

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Cerulean turned grey
souls of old, but washed away.
And innocence lost to the day
wrought destiny
and fate.

And child again
as emerald trickles in
spent in black and in grey,
wise of old, washed away.

But masked with a smile
small and futile–
but at least for awhile,
emerald appears grey;

until confidence washed away.

Alright, alright. Last post of the day. I’ve been in a bit of a writing mood lately. I think my writer’s block is finally starting to let up, thankfully.

This one’s slightly more vague than the others; it refers to the green-eyed monster in everyone. I’m not going to lie, I’m a jealous person. But I’m really good at hiding it. However, consequently, envy eats away at me much more than it would others, simply because I am quiet and subtle about it. I don’t speak anything of my jealousy, to anyone, and, like anger, it tends to build up.

But, because envy is not only unflattering on everyone, it is also a sin, I would rather bottle it up and express it in poetry than express it in words to those I love too much to alienate with it.

Those Three Words

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You whisper
those three words.
An echo
pounding in my ears.
A familiar voice
that I never thought I’d hear
utter to me so softly
those three words.

I suppose
it still seems foreign to me;
even after a year.

Those three words.

That shatter all expectation.
Leave everything
to chance
and a game of risk
played by only blind men;
facing battles
that they may never win.
But being beaten
bloody
much to my chagrin.
For that chance to prove
that
those three words
are true.

And, fo you,
to toss so blatantly
an answer
to my every prayer
for these past seventeen
years,
for you to say
those three words
to me…
So blatantly…
So confident
that your blind soldier
will win
a battle which seems
to have no end;
For you to seem
so optimistically
intent
on making me
your end, again…

With
those three words–
so genuine

that they cannot be
of habit.

I won’t even go to the trouble to mention the meaning behind “those three words.” If you haven’t figured out what they are, I severely worry about your place in the human race.

I’ve decided to write what I can during the school day, an whatever I manage to crank out from then to now is what I shall post for the day, every day. As I had a bit of inspiration today, I’ll post a bit more today than I normally would, I think it’s going to end up being four. So please, do enjoy!