Neath amethyst skies,Fairy circles’ flowers bloom,and await her arrival: Twilight-tinged Tulips,and Azure Azaleas, Peek shyly open petals.While Forget-Me-Nots,Rising ‘neath purple clovers,Murmur their dreamy hullos.Only the roses,Dream their purple fantasies,She loves them better that way. Caressing each friend,The Fairy Queen settles in,Neither song nor spell tonight,Just a cup of tea,And the easy grace of friends,For this, the … Continue reading Fairy Queen neath Amethyst Skies
It feels cruel to beDistant from your soft dark smile,A grazing glance keeps me strong. It seems cruel to me:Smiles behind the patina,Of a well-worn wedding band. It is cruel to see,The cracks in our smiling masks.Comedy or Tragedy?
The youth brightly smiled,Their well-worn yellow sunhatSpoke of many adventures. For you, I'll endureThe weight of all winter's snow,And the wilting summer's heat.
She kissed me lightly, Hidden behind smoky airs, Beneath blood red wines.
Roused I from a dreamless sleepless chill, Summoned to the study, cool and still, to find my patron sleeping deeply, poured over cantos stolen cheaply, Cobbled by whispers of ancient lore, Having discarded me, long before. So, having loved him, rob I his sight, Allow him to dream of endless night, Perhaps the Dark Stars … Continue reading My Muse Chuckles Darkly
I took the train out from North York, staring at my phone and the last three messages I sent into the silent, digital maw. I bit back bitter tears, thinking that maybe I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time... with the wrong person. Luckily, most wrong places have train stations out.
I awoke to raindrops upon my cheek, The window slightly ajar helps me sleep, Though it lets in the storm, now dark and deep. Restless, I sat upon the ledge and peeked, Hoping to catch sight of the lightning streak, That will surely shatter this peace I keep. I know, I know this moment’s peace … Continue reading Raindrops on my Cheek
What can be said of your smile, That has not already been written, In the poetry of higher beings, That sing of angels and gods? What can be said of your soul, That has not been likened, To the vespertine spirits, Or to blackheart devils?
Betwixt strands of her colored hair - Red for passion, devil-may-care; Blue of a cool, frivolous air - Frames eyes of a burnished gold, bared, Staring, daring, Only to laugh, then, disappear.
Along the coastline,A broken-hearted lover,Blooms with eau de salt. A flowery scent,Carried by a hot Spring breeze,Mingles tears with hope. In the midland towns,With opened windows released,Hidden flowers bloom. A lonely fool sighs,Drearily glances outside,Sniffs, whispers "Lilies." The breeze dies, winds cool,The scent lingers on moonlight,Recalled in sad dreams.