The Forbidden Depths of a Mysterious Soul...
These poems come from that dark place that dwells inside us all like it or not. They are the product of an unforgiving conscience that none of us can erase...And so, I have rightfully named them, the Dark Ones.
Proud Song
A sparrow fell,
With broken wing.
It's aching song,
I hear it sing.
One last tune
to boast to lark.
With flaming candle,
Like inspired spark.
It chokes; so wrong!
A light?s silent fade.
But still his song,
He chirps away.
All over soon,
but still you hear,
the sparrows song,
Like singing seer.
No Last Chance
Now that I am gone,
Now that you?re not here.
Knowing I was wrong,
Embracing Old fears.
Finding my mistake,
Cheeks red in shame.
A promise I would break,
If beast wouldn?t tame.
Now that I?m late,
Now that we don?t care,
My own prison, I create,
With hurt that comes so rare.
Mad like a mouse being toyed,
Thinking you were wrong,
Hollow, deeply annoyed,
And prisoner for too long.
So long ago, my time.
So long ago, this rhyme.
Tears Reborn
Empty skies fake,
Grieving for you.
And cold solace wakes,
With passion-dragon slew.
Help me to remember,
What it means to feel.
My heart is a cold thing,
Dead as heavy steel.
Meadow faeries cry,
shedding tears for me.
Meadow faeries die,
as magick fades away.
Sacrifice my name,
Or what is little left,
Old ways dim from fame,
No blame for this theft.
No tears reborn,
With words that scorn,
So dreams are torn,
from hearts forlorn.
Slaves to be Free
Imagine how it must have been,
When you were slave and he a master.
When living was your mortal sin,
And life dragged on never faster.
Think of how it was back then,
Labor hard, all day and night.
Being worked like man times ten,
And sickness was a Godly sight.
Remember now, his word was law,
How they?d fall asleep in pain.
Muscles taut when nerves are wrought,
Working to your rattling chain.
Taken to your dungeon home.
Deepest, dankest, cold.
Working in a scorching sun,
Then wonder why this was left untold.
Hear his anvil strike a tune?
That?s your bell to do his works.
Although your made a slave too soon,
You know where his danger lurks
This is what it was for them,
Those poor people from before,
But if faith were gold, never poor.
The Wheel of Life is Very Round and Gives Many Turns...
13th Curse
My throats so tight,
My eyes so watered.
With reason to fight,
Should not have bothered.
But if I close,
my eyes will not leak.
If I but turn,
I shan?t have to speak,
Of a wound I don not let,
myself to forget,
those days of yore.
When my sins, you bore.
Far off days of lore,
When you so freely gave,
A love I so deeply crave.
But, lo! So recent you tore,
my heart asunder,
So neatly you ripped,
my defense. Neatly Stripped.
Leaving a sound of thunder.
So when I lay,
awake and cold,
When night invades,
and sleep evades
Is when I write,
With no comforting light,
?She silently remembers?
a fiery passion,
that you let fashion,
to a nothing less than embers.
So something akin to regret,
I pray, someday,
Your heart beget,
Letting me more silently forget,
You.
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