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Sing Me a Song
Third Daily Poem Feature. (6/28/2005)
Sing me a song of love and of hate,
Of the tales that have never been told,
Of bravery, heroes, and enemies great
And the Champions of old.
Sing me a song of gold and of land,
Of pirates, princes and thieves,
Of forests wide and desert sands
And love beneath the linden trees.
Sing for me songs of wars and of soldiers,
Of deaths that will never be;
Tell me the tales, sir, of where you have been,
Of the things that I shall never see.
As I was walking, pacing in the heat,
Through the desert sands and concrete city streets
That millions each day toil down
Like insects—ants, carrying their loads
Advancing, just as industry would have it,
To their Queen—
I noticed something odd.
A women, dress in summer-like apparel
(just as one would see most any women wearing),
Carrying a bright umbrella, though not a cloud was seen,
And it cast an odd illusion of a shadow—
A false shadow—
From the Sun.
As it were (and as such strange a sight this was)
I glanced up at Its warmth that is never asked for
(Yet never fails to give)
And it seemed that I was nearly blinded by its light.
What treachery this is!
How could It be so cruel to us poor mortals upon this Earth?
And yet…
And yet—after I had looked down forward at the women,
Still walking proudly across the never-ending avenues—
I realized yet another curious thing.
I once again glanced up at the Sun
(this time, of course, aware of it’s might and unwavering vanity)
And then back towards said women.
An umbrella…
How dare she shelter herself from such an awesome power?
What gave her the right to disregard its strength?
How could such a life-giving force be so challenged?
I wondered this, and suddenly I noticed—
I stood stopped in my thoughts
Beneath a shading tree.
Morning dawns.
I look upon it as I pace this dusty road,
Wondering where I must go,
Why there is no one to stop me,
To hold me back, like in all the stories.
The stories….
I find myself again,
Now wondering where those stories lead,
Reminding myself that they were foreign,
Full of darkness,
And of danger,
And of the hope and faith that pulled them through.
Endless deep, black skies—
It is night;
I am alone now.
Loneliness finds me here,
Though what I am longing for,
I know not.
I hear my father speaking:
“All days leads from one day,
That much you must know.”
But you cannot change what’s over,
Only where you go.
I now see two roads apart:
One worn down and trodden over,
Barren and strange and cruel,
Yet promising by travel of others;
The other full of leaves like gold,
Sheltered by trees that cover the pale sun,
Forbidding and equally dangerous,
Branches clinging like animals at fresh meat.
I stop and face the empty path:
Which to choose?
Both seem so different and yet the same;
One leads to only emptiness,
The other leads to gold.
But in my heart I wonder,
Which one shall lead me true?
The road that leads to nowhere
Or the road that leads me home?
The day is now long past,
The end of this long journey,
But where my heart should fill with hope,
There is only death.
I think of a place that lingers in my mind,
That comes and goes to follow with the tide.
Where the memories drift on carefully by;
Where the sea seems to match the sky.
Where the evening flowers do reside;
Where the shining Moon no longer hides.
Where sunlight glints upon the sea;
Where I can reflect on knowledge gleaned.
Where there is a place for every being;
Where seeing is not believing—but believing seeing.
Where gallant chariots race among the clouds;
Where trees are the only and most glorious of sounds.
Where faeries dance upon the leaves and grass;
Where I walk down a path that none have passed.
Where I can trace the path of every star;
But above all else, I dream of where you are.
The raindrops fall around my head,
Upon the flowers and their bed.
Upon the elder linden trees,
And sliding off the younger leaves.
From my eyes and down my face,
Like tiny rivulets of lace.
Into my hands and then the ground
Where you now lie, asleep and sound.
I look up at gray-covered blue,
And know the raindrops search for you.
These jeweled raindrops I’d forgot,
And seek a peace that’s seldom sought.
I witnessed death on a carousel,
A carousel of gold,
Of dancing beasts and worthless treats
And stories often told.
They wheeled about a steady track
As passersby looked on
Upon the falsehood of release
With eyes that never shone.
Cycling through the strangest things
And lowest creatures captured,
The ones that once gave in their reigns
No longer giving rapture.
The unicorn with silver hair
That in pride threw out its mane
Now holds its horn against the ground—
A narcissist without a name.
A swan whose curve of neck proclaimed
A sweetness to caress
Now sits humbly and worn,
Its back fading to rust.
And the grandest creature of them all,
The ruler of all things,
With golden mane and sharpest fangs
That seemed truly for a king,
The great Lion that perches there
Reared back upon its feet
A silent roar torn from its throat
And seemed to not be beat.
But if one could seem him now,
Hunched down upon its stand,
One would see what this place has become,
The cruelest in all the land.
The clouds that once were drawn asunder
Close once more while lightning falls,
And thus starts the dance of thunder.
Pouring rain the thunder calls,
Melting through the silent earth–
I stare through their sultry walls.
Sitting by my ample hearth,
Watching drops of falling rain,
Like myriad ships returned to berth,
I think of each as souls long gone
That drop from an empty sky
And the ships that carry them as pawns
Off into an endless night,
Away from shadows and their plights–
Off into the endless night.
He who wins knows much of fame
And life fit for the few–
But he who fails this grotesque game
Leaves all he ever knew.
The stage is set for those unblessed–
Or perhaps the insubordinate.
Either plays in the Gods’ test
As two parts coordinate.
Armed with nought but sword and shield
And perhaps a dying name,
They go against each other here
In this foolish petty play
Where men devolve to nought but beasts
In this, the fatal dance;
Where the Gods decide who is released
And who is brought to lance.
The greatest pastime ever seen
In the grave, the Coliseum,
Now holds the secret lives its gleaned
In its endless mausoleum.
Upon the golden shore of shards of dreams,
Where the bluest of seas meets the world
And a lighthouse of the purest marble stands,
Watching and looking upon those lost to guide them home,
She waits for one such voyager—
A wayfarer long gone and yet just as close as ever,
Never ceasing to follow the pale, faint light
That one day he knows shall lead him
To his beloved.
Why do I weep?
Is it from fear?
Fear that when I pass from this world,
Like so many others before me,
I will not be remembered?
Is it perhaps that the strains of life
Have finally begun to weigh down
Upon my very soul?
My eyes are tired,
My mind weary,
My body weak and lame,
And all there is is the soft strokes of false granite
Upon a sheet of paper that none shall remember.
And yet…
I continue writing.
There may be no other way to suppress the fear
And the hurt
Except to keep moving.
But then why do I weep?
I am content with my life, I know.
And yet I mourn for a cause I cannot understand.
In a world that was once said was wonderful,
I still write in this false granite—
All is false,
All is dark,
All shall fade away before the ones who can right it
Ever even hear its cry for help.
And now I weep.
I weep for this world,
For the end of man,
For the end of all days.
I have outrun the sun,
Disappearing over the horizon,
As if I had wings for feet.
I have flown to the clouds
And touched the surface of the moon,
Memorizing every crater.
I have dived down to the coldest depths
Of the bluest ocean
And gathered pearls of angelic white—
But for what it’s worth, I’m only human.
I have seen the greatest of pyramids,
Still makeshift and unbuilt,
The toils of the land for their creation.
I have witnessed the life of Caesar,
Followed in his wake of fortunes
And wept for his betrayed soul.
I have seen the universe from above,
Looked down upon our world,
And laughed at it’s infinitesimal size—
Yet for what it’s worth, I’ve seen nothing.
I have seen death, but also life—
A child staring, smiling at me
With an unadulterated innocence.
I have held the hand of another,
Walked out into the rain,
And brought them back.
I have been cleansed
With the shower of another’s kisses
Raining down upon my face…
And for what it’s worth, I have been given
All I could ever ask this world to give.
Leaves of the purest gold are falling,
Breeze from across the shores are calling,
Beckoning the Gods to earth,
Solemn times now filled with mirth.
Death is a stranger to the land,
Life a thing shared hand-in-hand.
Victory achieved by only one:
A rarity looked down upon.
Waves of pearly foam that rush
To the shore, but never crush.
In this place where angels sing
And happiness floats by on wings.
Whilst the trees stand still and sleep
Carrying knowledge never reaped.
A world of peaceful truancy
Of once known simple wisdom gleaned.
And now the leaves have crumpled grey,
As the trees begin to sway…
The faintest whisperings pass by
Unheard by all but butterflies,
Caught in the silk of a spider’s weave
As the angels weep with wisdom's grief.
My Little Warehouse
DP #9 (3/21/2007)
In the corner of my mind
There lies a warehouse.
In the warehouse
Is a hall, and in the hall
There is a drawer.
In that drawer there is a file
And behind that file is a key.
The key can open just one door—
Turn, click, creak—
And in the room is darkness.
Flip—lights illuminate the dusty land
Never touched by human hands.
Just off to the left
And a little to the side,
Beneath my little window
That shows the world outside,
There is a desk.
Beneath a little cup of tin
And a photo of the sea,
Golden, tiny, an antique,
Is my little secret key.
In the desk there is a drawer
To be opened by that little key,
And in the drawer there is
A little box.
In this box there is a little crystal
Tied to a little chain.
Here, in the most secret places of my mind,
Where none but I can ever go,
That only I will ever know,
Lies my purest little soul.
The Toy Soldier
The little toy soldier that sits by himself
In a plastic red box on the top of the shelf
Looks down at the other used toys from above
And wonders if being on top is enough.
The bike that they’d bought Him the Christmas before
Sits shining like new to the side of the door.
And that ball that He rolls back and forth everyday
Rests on His bed, always ready for play.
The cars and the trucks that are scattered about–
Not only in His room, but all through the house–
And the little toy super-heros, worn down over time,
And the miniature bank filled with pennies and dimes.
The soldier looks down with a smug little grin,
But suddenly feels rather cheated by Him–
Just a little toy soldier that sits by himself
In that small lonely box on the top of the shelf.
There was a time when I was King.
My father spoke to me and said,
"Love all your people and you country
More than you could love yourself
And lead them not into a world of tyranny."
I obeyed his words at first,
Being and young and submissive under his strong gaze,
And throughout the land there was peace.
But I grew wise beyond my years,
Renowned for my knowledge and the many victories.
These people--my people--
They thought themselves all equal, even to me?
Surely not?
The poor in the streets and the rich in their beds
And I on my throne.
Logic told me that they must be equal in some matter
To keep such calm and peace;
And so I took all, ruled all, and grew mighty
With their opression.
With my father's last breath,
He spoke to me again, and said,
"Thou art human, Tzaran,."
He said it so truthfully,
as anyone with nothing left to lose would say,
And yet it was not a compliment at all--
It was not to say I had a heart.
For years I did not sleep.
I am human, my mind repeated relentlessly,
A human with such a mind as to have no heart.
As I stood still in my own realm apart from all others,
My people starved, murdered, and thieved,
And yet through it all I cared not.
I let the world take me and be taken itself,
For in my heart's absence
The world had turned and died,
And my soul along with it.
Tick, tock,
Tick, tock—
Down the rabbit hole,
Down, down, down.
Don’t trust the trees,
They know only lies;
Follow the way
The black crow flies.
Over the river, through the wood,
Just up the hill and round the bend—
Here comes he—
Run and hide,
Break and bend.
Tick, tock,
Hurry, hurry,
Don’t be late.
The Cheshire cat knows all,
But which way is truth?
Left, right, left, right,
Cast down, hauled up,
Fortune and fame,
Blood and Money—
All the same, all the same.
Tick, tock,
Not much time.
The moon an eye,
The sky his face,
And only the mountains
Touch it.
So close,
So far—
Does it matter?
We all sail as one
But the mast has fallen;
There’s no crow’s nest.
He is coming.
Tick, tock.
Rise up,
Above the clouds,
Above all else,
And nothing else matters.
Beware the Moon and all its lies.
Never give up,
Do what is just,
Think not of the resistance
But of the cause.
The cause, the cause,
Remember the cause.
But hurry—
Tick, tock…
Hurry, hurry—
Blackness.
Screaming, screaming,
Sleeping, dreaming.
The coldest cage is not of steel
But really in our minds.
We’re only trapped by what we feel
And what lies deep inside.
For in those depths the Monster hides,
He sleeps, He takes, He waits,
And slowly He will thieve our minds
And leave none of the bait.
Rattle, rattle,
War and battle.
This mental war has now begun
And we are armed with naught,
While He stomps out against his drums
A march of Death and rot.
Burial of the haunted one.
Whose mind has long deceased.
Who needed only wield his guns
So He might be appeased.
Shatter, shatter,
Broken, battered.
And from the Beast it had been said:
“From Satan's Pit I hail
And in this land I have emerged
To crush all in this gale."
And now the man is nearly dying,
Broken, shattered, and defying,
Yet we still see that he is trying–
Despite that monstrous Beast.
I was flying
Through a sky of empty clouds
With the wings upon my back
And the city below.
I was laughing
So hard my chest hurts terribly
But then I didn’t care,
I just smiled at them all.
There were people
All around me, with me,
Yet I couldn’t see them well
But for the rushing wind.
Maybe they fly too.
Maybe we’re all flying together
All around the world,
So happy and so free.
I closed my eyes.
So far above the ground
Yet I feel a cold hard presence
Weighing down upon me.
Such cruel pain now
Such torment and evil that
Stains these purest wings black and red
With ash and blood and shadow…
I’m on the ground now
This cold, cruel, unforgiving ground.
I cannot move. My arms seem tangled.
The people are still here,
Yet I still cannot see their faces.
He asks, “Are you alright, miss?”
I try to smile—of course I’m alright.
I soared through the sky, so high, so far
Where nothing’s the same as it was before.
I see a face now, but it is twisted and dark.
It says, “Come, child.” I smile and follow
To where I shall fly forever, unlike all the others
Who have never known happiness,
And never will.
But in truth, we’re all flying,
Flying toward redemption and happiness,
But one must always remember—
In order to fly, one must first know how to fall.
They wonder why I’m scared
And they wonder why I weep.
They wonder how I lost my eye
And wonder why I drink.
They wonder what I’m doing there
While the rest are on their own,
Fighting others’ battles
While still knowing they’re alone.
They wonder why I never speak
And why I never leave,
Yet all I want is a bit of peace,
For the truth they’d never believe.
The man who once stood as a God
Has crumbled to the ground,
And where once I never shed a tear,
Now unrestrained, I cry aloud.
I know I should be back with them,
I know I should support the cause,
I know the people look to me,
And I know that there are laws.
But these people here that whisper now
And wonder why I’m not there
Have done nothing like all I have done—
And I wonder why I care.
In this darkness I confide,
For it keeps me by and by
Safe inside this shell that I
Forever more shall there abide.
Protected from the roaring tide,
Severing all strands and ties
And with myself sit side by side
Until the time the world shall die--
Forever till the end of days.
“Work will set you free,” it said
As we stumbled through the night,
Weary, weak, and underfed.
Her eyes were lit with dazzled fright
With knowledge of the evil here
And in the glow of Fire’s light.
The sheet of rain, the building sheer,
The screams ahead that linger on,
Fueling ever present fear.
We see the bodies laid upon
A blanket of lost hopes and snow
And God forgotten, Faithful shunned.
The flame’s soft touch upon me now,
A hand that gropes to pull me back,
No scream emits to fight my foe
For I know his faithless lack
Of God, of mind, and of prospect.
She holds her head as if to cry
And grips my hand as we pass by.
The towers rise on either side
And speak of truth amidst the lies.
They brought us here by way of train—
For what purpose, none would say—
I promised I would come and stay
To protect her, come what may.
They tear apart the families,
The screams that echo through the trees,
That pass along the empty streets
And call to us; so they entreat.
The fires lit the snow that night
Like fallen stars that passed us by
So long ago on those free nights
Of love and light and hope’s delight.
By the gates that speak of being free,
Everyday I stop and see
The outer world, from here beneath—
Where Heaven and all Hell should meet.
Beneath the snow I see a face,
Familiar, young, with skin like lace,
Whose eyes, it seems, did once embrace
A hope of truth and any trace
That hiding ‘neath the Shadow’s gaze
Someplace still lives light and hope
That carry on their frequent chase
Amid the fleeting, falling snow.
O, this hand that writes these words,
Some quite quaint and some absurd,
Do nothing to abolish
All the things that I have heard.
The little things that pass me by
And think themselves to be so sly
Do break this tender little mind
And all around me falls the sky.
A thousand broken shards that fly
Off into an endless night
Of nothing but absurdities
And things I cannot rhyme.
Through the night, the piercing stars,
Savoring the scent of scars;
These strange words that seem to fit
And yet mean naught to the old Czar.
A rose by any other name
Still encases a world gone lame
But all these words mean nothing writ
As I carry this, my shame.
The cat that caught the bird that morn
Perched on battlefield so worn
As if no candle could be lit
Ripping flesh from bones so torn.
The senseless serpent bites the hand
That killed in the name of man
But where am I in all of this?
Asked the skull to no-man’s-land.
Ah, these sunken words that fail,
Stumbling through the winter’s gale,
Do nothing to, in hope, ensure
I nevermore cry, “Nevermore.”
The waning of the moon of Summer’s night
As Autumn’s harvest moon does rise aloft,
And the fading of the heat and Summer’s might
Into the dusk behind the leaves so soft,
As Summer’s love does fade with Summer’s day;
The warmth of leaves but cool of Autumn’s eve
Does hide the hate that pushes love away
And in defeat such loves slips through the sieve.
Soon Winter’s chill will blanket all the land
To mask the fate of future’s loneliness;
Where once both love and peace went hand-in-hand,
Now they are for naught but Satan’s bliss.
But after cast into life’s dismay
One always wakes to one more Summer’s day.
The softness of her amber eyes
Soon matched together Love and I;
Despite the battle I must fight,
I found no feelings of contrite
For Love and I did find accord,
And much I longed for Love’s reward:
To find a truth and recompense
For happiness at life’s expense.
The petals danced about the night,
Surrounding beauty in Love’s light.
As I approached, so too did Fear,
But comforted by her heart so near.
Her eyes a question did proclaim,
As if these roses were for gain;
My answer, heart and heart as one:
“For you, my love, and you alone.”
Trapped within this lonely abyss
Shadows of a broken past
Shade my eyes, taint my heart,
And within Hell' flames, my soul depart.
The torment, hurt, and long-dead scars;
The rain that fell, those broken bars;
They caged a beast so fierce, so dark,
That none could see so deep a mark.
And gazing into blackest eyes
I saw Temptation and Its lies.
I saw within me fragments true,
But darkest fragmentary blue--
A blue so deep, so cruel as night
That shredded soul and blackened mind,
That ate away my rotted flesh
And tore apart this mortal mesh.
And lying in this lonely place,
I saw naught but just a face;
Without her eyes, yet still with light,
Without the shadows of her plights;
A bright and fragile thing, she was,
A cruel temptation of life above...
And yetit showed that life still was,
And showed that I could reach above.
For not knowing such a fire
Could burn my life with such desire,
I took her hand, I gave my soul,
And tempted the Fates down Life's long road.
Listen to the footprints in the sand
That tell of silent dreams, of shattered land.
Then listen to the rushing of the sky
As a million winged memories pass by.
Listen to the protest down the street
As they torture quiet minds as they entreat.
Then listen to the man of many years
Who takes his tea with loneliness and tears.
Listen to the world begin to thrive
As the sun comes forth and all things come alive.
Then listen to a world that has grown cold
To the touch, to young, to myths of old.
Listen to the endless angered words
That cross each other with both nail and sword.
Then listen to the silence of a love
Long broken by the scorn of false-white doves.
Listen to the mind and all it knows,
Except the meaning of how a love should grow.
Argue with the countrymen’s regime,
Then listen to your heart, and hear it scream.
If every light left in this world fades,
When every star bursts into one last magnificent blaze
And all the world is dark,
You shall my last remaining light.
If the Gods have deemed us unworthy,
When their statues fold themselves back into the earth
And the world is lost and without purpose or hope,
You shall be my Goddess and my savior.
If I should fall and taint my flesh with blood,
When I loose myself in my thoughts of imperfection
And shun my very soul,
You shall be the one to pull me up.
If I should live a thousand years,
When all sense of time has escaped me
And content replaces it,
I shall know it is because my mind was filled with you.
If I should pass before I wake,
When I grow cold in mortal flesh beside your warmth
And smile without fear, without regret,
I shall know it was that in my last moments
I thought of how we were, who we are,
And everything we’ve made each other in between.
When young, the reasons are all the same,
And lead to another’s downfall and blame,
Like a bad taste, or a broken toy,
Or a small pain, or a mean boy;
Perhaps an absence, or a wrong color,
Or a dark place, or stormy weather.
When juvenile, the reasons start to change,
And worry another who thinks them strange,
Like a bad day, or a broken heart,
Or a small lie, or a mean dad;
Perhaps a death, or a wrong path,
Or a dark poem, or a stormy accord.
In the middle, the reasons are complex,
And often puzzle and perplex,
Like a bad name, or a broken home,
Or a small pill, or a mean accusation;
Perhaps disconnection, or the wrong leader,
Or dark times, or stormy politics.
At the end, the reasons are very few,
But complicated and arisen anew,
Like a bad illness, or a broken body,
Or a small test tube, or a mean ache;
Perhaps a pariah, or the wrong life,
Or a dark secret, or a stormy truth.
It’s a quiet hub,
Just a old spot on a map.
It’s a lonely home,
Filled with painful memories.
It’s a black rose
In the midst of swaying daffodils.
It’s the unnoticed blemish
Residing on the visage of town.
It’s a local gossip house
Where people once laid down their tales.
It’s darker than I’d like,
But the sun shines beautifully outside.
The curtains are torn,
The sofa is stained,
The carpet needs cleaning,
The door is all scratched,
The windows are cloudy,
The view is gray fields.
It’s just some old house,
Forgotten by most.
And it’s a sad place–
But it grows on you.
The golden meadow gently weeps,
Tapping on the door
That opens to the jargon scrawled
Upon the chamber floor.
“My dearest dear,” it seems to read
“Don’t tread your feet in dust;
The windows are just now been cleaned,
And the waters learnt to trust.”
I’ve a sad a lonely tale to tell,
And not much time to tell it,
But if you’ve time to watch me speak
Then I’ve time to explain it.
The night the nightingales fell short
Of their mark into the skies
Was the night I got the letter
And the many tears to dry,
Recalled the slashing blood beyond
The starry pooling eyes,
And shot hope into Heaven
For my own was but a lie.
Bear with me stranger–
Stay, please stay–
That was the year my mother died,
My brother shipped away,
My life was torn to pieces
And my hair was turning gray.
And that was the month I lost my dog,
And a very important chance,
Along with a little shattered glass
After the first time I asked her to dance.
I’m almost done,
Please hear me out–
But the paper scrap upon my palm
Felt heavier than the rest,
But my curiosity was drained;
I feared reading the words, lest...
Lest all along I had been right:
My chance had been long gone.
My mother gone, my brother gone,
My hair and dancing, gone.
And all my life I had become
The very thing I loathed–
The King who never counts his change,
Who never finds his gold.
The Sun is rising, Moon is too;
The stars so often cry.
She tips her hat and says a prayer;
He clasps his hands and dies.
The golden spinning thread is gone;
The shadows are quite sound.
She shows her hands, a fighting chance;
He falls and stands his ground.
The cup is nearly half-past full;
The dogs keep me awake.
She takes my hands and holds me now;
He wanders round the lake.
The trees are bare this time of year;
The children often play.
She wonders where her watch has gone;
He wonders at the day.
The windows tint with sullen light;
The world spins on a thread.
She sits behind these dead cold eyes;
He thinks, and goes to bed.
The sinking sun is over now;
The boats pause in the bay.
She tips her hat and rests in peace;
He clasps his hands and prays.
The scorching sands that scourge the trees,
The darkness of the evergreens
This time of night, or after-day
When shadows come to dance and lay
Hypocrisy at sullied feet,
Do nothing but a soul defeat.
All the words, the drunken rhymes,
The messages in perfect time,
The faceless movement, sullen eyes,
The pacing toward and through demise--
All again for nothing won,
Nothing gained, nothing sung.
They ask the whys, the whens and hows,
The questions fast, the answers now:
Why fire burns as bright as this,
Why sickly people still exist,
How worlds were overturned today,
How life extinguished still remains;
When will the eyes of angels see?
When will the hate inside them be
The strength of future breath and life?
Life--I know enough of life
To know this only truth:
The skies are red at 7:10
Each night or after-day,
When bloody battles fuel the pens
And angels come to slay.
Hourglass sands
Falling from the pits of sky--
They run with fleeting hearts,
Gripping grains of gold in their hands,
Even as they slip away
To fall and die in the valley.
They mourn the sands,
They ponder their defeat,
They watch their children, mystified,
Uncaring,
Unmoving,
And begin again their unending game of catch
Into madness.
Do you know
How the painted starlight dances?
I have seen their eyes,
Glowing in all their brilliance,
Seen the empty houses on the street,
Heard the empty cries
And the painted wings that shield them.
Do you know
How the world will scream?
Do you know the way it dies?
The way it ends?
It ends in starlight,
In the final moments of a being,
Of a forever,
Of a time that never ends,
And never began.
It ends with cries, but not with sobs;
With shouts, but not with words;
With dignity, but not with truth.
Forever, it does end.
And forever the stars keep
Dancing.
2007-10-28 [sequeena_rae]: bring it on >:D
2007-10-28 [Nite_Owl]: *bang bang bang* Weeeeee!! XD
2007-10-28 [sequeena_rae]: omg :O XD
2007-12-08 [moira hawthorne]: I dont get the new one...
2007-12-08 [sequeena_rae]: I like the new one, it's easy on the tongue and actually very sweet <3
2007-12-09 [Nite_Owl]: It's just a little thing I wrote in a couple seconds for a psychology paper. I've been reading a lot of Lewis Carroll lately so it's not necessarily supposed to make literal sense :P
2007-12-10 [Grandamelf]: Ooh, I love Lewis Carroll!
Hey, sometimes the best thoughts come to you in a flash!
2008-01-20 [sequeena_rae]: Such a sad new poem, I love it!
2008-01-20 [Nite_Owl]: Yeah, not sure where it came from really :P I just felt like writing, and this popped out.
2008-02-09 [sequeena_rae]: He falls and stands his ground.
That line is mightily confusing xD
2008-02-10 [Nite_Owl]: My poetry isn't usually written to make literal sense mate ^^'
2008-02-10 [sequeena_rae]: I noticed darling ;)
2008-02-18 [Akayume]: Ohhh, I rather like the new poem Owlie. :D
2008-03-24 [Willow Rose]: "Whilst the Trees Sleep" is so beautiful. I will have to sit down soon and read through these.
2008-03-26 [Nite_Owl]: Thank you :) I need to write something new soon. It's almost ready in my head (^,^)
2008-03-26 [Grandamelf]: This old lady is really enjoying your poetry!
Love it! [Grandamelf]
2008-03-26 [Nite_Owl]: Thank you very much! I'm glad that people still keep up with the updates here and read my work. I really appreciate the compliment :D
2008-05-03 [sequeena_rae]: Your new poem freaks me out :(
2008-05-03 [Nite_Owl]: Aw, I'm sorry :( My stuff is never too happy. *lovehugrape* :D All better!
2008-05-03 [sequeena_rae]: Wheeeeeeeeeee! :D
2008-05-03 [moira hawthorne]: I keep up with your updates... I just dont always comment
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