Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Frostbite - poem

My eyes burned with the passing years,
freezing them agape,

Ice building theLens, masking the pain,
showing the Irises with their uncanny

I repeatedly wonder-
the same dreams replay over
and over and over

Some sick cycle stuck on the
spin-of today and yesterday
and today and

and then-

the f a d i n g v i b r a t i o n s s s .

I am Still.

Yet reeling-forever wondering,
burning inside-but that Fire is deficient
ever more, to melt my disposition;
of the many Yester-hours
and too-long moments ahead.

Carry the torch-
if you dare,
melting each drop of mistake-ridden

Unveil Pandora from her paradoxical,
(un)restful Slumber.

But when I wake,
who will be the audience?
Flakes of falling regret-
sheets of Frigidity-
or two palms with the Warmth
my eyes used to display
(the same as that at the Core)?

Is Love still the same?
Or have my frozen memories
distorted Reality
to the point where everything
I perceived as Good, Fulfilling, Kindling-
can solely caress my skin
with the needles of my
Frostbitten Coffin?

Embedded Tale - poem

if I put this moment to Words,
there’d be only so much
I could Scribe.

A Story or Song-both meagre-
and still, here’s the attempt
with a promise of an end
that would put the most Sumptuous
Reverie to a test.

the Look You gave me began the Tale,
foretold my reactions with each
Burning Stare.

You led my Hands and I think You’ll find,
my Skin’s most obedient to Flaming commands.

rising like Steam, my Palms trailed from
Your Sides, to Your Shoulders,
then Your Cheeks, to the Succulent place
where my Lips would soon find.

Winding like Bed Sheets,
Your Arms found my Back,
just after mine Embraced Your Neck.
Nuzzling in, above Your Collar,
(breathing in Enticement)
my Senses were

You Grounded me swiftly with the
Warmth of Your Kiss.
Twisting, Tangling, Pressure Increasing-
my Blood boiled Hotter;
my Vision was Star-Struck.

I dawned on the inkling that
the Climax approached-
Bracing my Fingertips for the Sweet, Scalding

there it was-
the Point of No Return-
the Plot at its thickest-
a Choice hit the forefront of my Creative

Rewrite or press on-then the Choice was

from my blind spot came Crashing,
a Surprise Ending as such:
my eyes opened,
i shivered,
pulled the blanket up tightly to where
Your Kisses
imprinted our Story-
Narrating my

Northern Rule - poem

I sat here waiting-
I’ve been waiting all my life.
I’m restless and tired,
yet I falter again and again.

There’s a fire inside of me;
yes, of the clichéd sort.
Sparked by desire,
fed by insatiated yearning.

As I sit, stare out into the night,
or let the sun blind my unrelenting ambition,
the tears turn to ashes
(I return to myBeginnings)
and it’s my fault-

The fire consumes me inside,
illuminating my longing,
and Memories from Then.

Remember the melody pulsating vigorously
through our veins, as we glided
across the Floor of my youth.

No Walls remained,
just endless skies.

It didn’t matter how the Sun would swelter
or the Moon would freeze-

All that I held dear, was
in my arms.

I’d spin, dip, Fly-
You’d be my wings.

I never knew what
Winter could do.

Watch these arms, floating down to my sides,
like amber leaves in Autumn,
after the life in them is swept by the
Northern Winds.

I’m still waiting, but
not for much longer.

My focus shifts to the
fear of the Currents.

They await the ashes, falling from me-
to carry them away,
before He can come-
to where I belong-

North, and higher still.

To where my Wings will lead,
returning to Warmth,
returning to You.

Judgement day - poem

though I caught a glimpse of Heaven's Bliss,
I fear that I threw my
Wintered heartinto hell; your Dominion.

though whether you'd reign waist-deep in
Frigid Loneliness,
or enthroned, overlooking your
Smothering Sea of inescapable,
Licking Flames,
no verdict's been reached.

you would either preserve my Frozen state,
forever Undead by your Indifference.

or the very Fire that once sparked my Desire
would turn this ice, and with it, my life
to Vapour: forever swirling,
Aimlessly-as the Desperate Crests
of the Infernal Waves.

be gentle, love, for when I see your Face
in my Cursed Dreams,
my lungs Constrict the little air
your Affections bless me with.

like the gnawing Anticipation,
Sickeningly Spinning within me,
I replay a Reverie of you and I,
your body and mine-
Vines of Flesh.

I was safe in your arms until you wrapped
'round my chest-I woke up, uncertain...
did you Compress me to Asphyxiate?
or grasp me, only to
throw measide?

All that I know,
is what remains inside: this Burning Curiosity,
and a prickling memory or fear
of being discarded to Eternal Winter.

I'm dying to know: when you pulled me Close,
Breathed me in, and I Tasted you-
did you mean to Kindle
(my) Desire-to Feed
Our Affection?

or have you planned to push me
far away, yet Close Enough
for the Frost to imprison me,
manifesting Glass Bars,
forever gazing,

at Heaven's Door?

Insufficiency - poem

There was a time…
do you remember those days
when waves and sunburns were our only concerns?

I felt like a Queen in your Utopian Kingdom-
someone important, to whom you gave

I didn’t need gifts, praise,
or recognition.

Your smiles made me richer
than any living ruler.

I didn’t need expense,
only your bear-hugs for warmth.

I swore that I could never feel cold again.

If ever a tear dared stain my cheek,
you would not only be a King,
but a great magician.

My pain, the salt tears would disappear
and sting my soul no more.

We approach the climax of this
insignificant fairy tale.

No monsters or heroes
dominate the scene.

I simply remember waking before the Sun
to embrace you and wish you a fulfilling day.

That you returned home
was a gift in itself.

Now comes the fall.

And an incomplete end.

When I think of you, the warmth is no more
than a dim glow-
Insatiating and maddening.

The fire is gone, my blanket ceases
to exist.

All I have, is the Earth's embrace,
as I lie here at your stone.
And the lingering breeze
caressing my face,
where your Loving hands once used
To roam.

Two Princes - poem

(Would hate to admit it but he)
danced with me, when he passed me by,
locking his gaze on mine-

He held my thoughts with his smile.
So freely I gave my hand to his
(He commented on how soft I felt).

I suppose he believed me to be also
internally soft.
For after pulling me towards
his affections and words, he tested my strength-

Slapped my hand away
(doubly hard than he pulled).

And that was the last step in the dance,
with the Prince who would transform
into a haunting, lingering

After elapsing time,
please allow me to introduce
the Second Prince.

His eyes deemed him both predator, prey
(it may sound cliché).

Déjà vu of the First-I met his stare,
then danced, and kissed-
I was the first to leave.

A yearning so deep, kindness in his heart,
praise with many turns of his phrases-

He's falling for who he thinks I am,
when I know the truthful being he's craving.

He wants an idea,
a Princess with the same qualities he dreams of,
virtues he thinks he sees.

Neither have realized, I'm not what-
or who
they've assumed.

Princes cannot fix a woman broken in two.

I am strong, not

I am no Princess, or Idea;
just a Woman, with a wish,
for not a misguided Prince,
but a (Willing)
man willing
to embrace the real

Symphony, re-written

I wrote a song the other day
then tossed it aside, left to decay.

I grew tired of writing
and bleeding the words
that spoke of you then of me.

There was never an "us"
just broken trust-I'm sick from waiting-
this shouldn't just sit, and stew and strengthen,
when there's havoc to wreak.

You were the words I'd choke on
but never stop saying.

I was the paper; you poisoned my skin.

Only recently did I realize,
to be rid of the memory of what could be
between you and me, I'd have to
toss aside my own pride;

The paper you wrote on-
the passion that died.

Now my words sting of acid-regret.

With a promise to look forward
to someone who'd let the void fill up
with ambitious infatuation.

And a promise for inspiration-
to be a muse for my pen.

And the colour that stains over
what was done-what was said-

And the Music
of your mistakes.

attempt|tseuqer - poem

For a moment, then the beating
of my heart.
Like a symphony,
the strings of our words
harmonize with my heart's

my head begins to drop to my hands that hold it up-
trying to stay awake.

I hit my pillow, surprised.

Craving sleep.

Craving escape.

Dying, yet still reviving
the memories.

Piercing the stillness.

Thrashing, only inside
(outside would look pathetic).

Only to notice I'm clutching the cure.

Stifling-my love,
we can't breathe together.

Fighting for breath, fighting for release.

I tear my arms away, afraid you'll hate to be

But then again
you told me once it had been too long,
and you kissed me.
Held me.
Led me.

I've turned my back.

You'd have to reach out to get me to hold you again.
For I've let go-

Or at least I can say
I tried.

Incomplete -poem

Does it ever kill you-
do you sit there and wonder if I’m ok,
what I’m thinking?

Would it ever cross your mind,
or compel you to pause,
during the lull of the night
that I might be shivering
without you?

The stupid thing, is well…
I know this is wrong.I
know I shouldn’t-

In theory, it makes no sense.
But my heart’s still beating,
despite the needles piercing through.

Can you ever feel the pain,
does any of this happen to you?

Breezes, pillows, blankets, hot chocolate-
nothing can cool my angry mind,
or thaw the ice that’s freezing my life.

At times I want to shake your shoulders and scream,
then at other times, I want to hold you-

Or at least know what it feels like
to be held.

Have you ever died a little?
I’d like to think you have-
because I’m daydreaming my eulogy-

God, how stupid this sounds.

And how you’d scold me for talking so much.

I can only dream you’d care-
dreaming’s all I have.

My frost-bitten heart,
the tears that won’t fall,
the lull of the moon,
the dreams…

And this is life-
at least the version of breathing
that I choke on
day and night, and night and day, and…