Sorrowful tears drop on flowers. Eyes cry over what was and what is no longer.
Tag: poem
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As I awake, a quiet storm in my spirit brews.
Through loving eyes a beautiful angel appears in my view.
My love, if you only knew how I see you;
If you only knew. -
In its inception it could be based on hearsay or misguided perception.
As a tiny seed it is watered and nurtured and soon becomes a deep rooted tree
bearing the fruits of malcontent, violence, superstition and ill intent.
The poisonous fruit invades the bloodstream with sinister efficiency, mercilessly infecting its host.
The virulence of its effect is evident in the pupils of the eyes.
It can lie dormant for many years, sometimes revealing itself
in the form of vengeful words and angry tears.
The sweetness of the fruit masks its bitterness in the stomach.
It is not well digested;
With the absorption of poison, the heart and organs become infested.
Inside, the spirit writhes, withers, and groans as the infection takes its toll.
A shake of the hand is manifested and a deceptive smile,
For it is behind the glare of darkened eyes that the secrecy of hatred lies. -
In the night’s darkness under a full moon alone he cries.
The night breeze on his face he feels, as the winds shake the trees.
As tears stream he looks up at the sky and falls on his knees,
And with a loud voice he screams, Oh no god please.
For to know his love is gone is torture and forlorn.
In his weeping, tears cover the golden locket he had given her;
The blood of his love permeates his clothing and touches his skin.
He had found her, with blood around her, eyes open.
He picked her up and held her, and kissed her tender,
And tried to resurrect her with all his will;
But on that night, in her beauty, his angel lay still.He will carry her; with a heavy heart eternally he will carry her.
In the night, he will reach for her and she will not be there.
On the pillow she slept are the strands of her hair.
In the space she lay, now he lies and says a quiet prayer;
On her pillows and hair, fall the drops of his tears.His Prayer:
Oh God, please open heaven’s gates,
As I now in your hands place my fate,
For she is my heart and without my heart I cannot live.
I have wept and I have cried with nothing left to give.
My angel has been taken away from me,
And now I again seek to see her in your glory.
For my sins and my many transgressions please forgive me,
As I leave this world to write the rest of my story.
Oh Holy Mary, Mother of God please hear me.He lies still. From open eyes tears still spill.
Silence Falls. -
Now enter into your rest as your spirit takes flight.
May you ride on the wings of the archangels into eternal light.
We will mourn you as the heavenly host adorn you in white.
We will search for you among the stars in the passing of the twilight.
-
The undertaker’s gloves touch what was once hopeful and full of life.
He lies there, eyes open, but they see not and he is not.
The sterility of cold skin against cold metal is like a thousand winters.
The time for contemplation has ceased;
He lies; Still, he lies.
The darkness behind the eyes is like the ink of a black pen
Burst open into two round spaces of translucency and left to settle.
The discoloration of his nonexistence
is not found in the beauty of any rainbow.
The body has given up the ghost,
But does the ghost know it has left its shell?
The undertaker’s experienced hands will be
The last semblance of care given to him.
He does not know, for he is not present in the body.
They will cry over him;
they will shower him with flowers, but he will not know.
When he was here he counted the days and the hours but they did not show.
Yet they now stand there, teary eyes with a glare.
That they would throw dirt on him and walk away
Without even the remembrance of a genuine memory is blasphemy.
The undertaker takes it all in, for he has seen it many times before.
In the interim between life and death he contemplates his own mortality.
The living go on, and the dead are mourned;
The solemn faced undertaker, the last recorder of them that breath no longer.
His last job is done for the night; he turns off the lights
And says goodnight to his silent residents whose souls have taken flight. -
Her beauty was uncanny.
With her wares she had seduced many.
She was dainty and friendly;
Within her bosom the bones of men she kept buried.Her voice was a lullaby;
Unknowingly, in her presence I started to cry.
Then I wept at her feet
And said to her, for you I would die;She pulled me in with seductive stare.
In the blinking of an eye within a glare,
I suddenly felt an unwarranted fear;
Again in astonishment I stared.She had the devil in her green eyes;
Abruptly, blue turned to grey skies;
It wasn’t until later I had realized,
She was the devil in disguise. -
Strong winds cause running tears to be blown back from a solemn and beautiful face. Arms outstretched, in her green dress she dances alone in the dusk at her own pace. With bare feet she steps up on the ledge and it is there she contemplates, saying goodnight to the world and with a final bow leaving behind this place.
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Baptized in dark waters of pain I arise reborn to reclaim my name. I have tasted the sting of bitter cold; I have walked through the hottest flames. Indifference and numbness renders me somewhat listless. They scold me with harsh words and haughty admonishments. From their defiled pulpits they scream mispronounced words they don’t understand in improper contexts. I look down upon them from above the clouds and I laugh; they swear at me and throw obstacles in my path. I transcend their petty attempts, for they know not of pain and the strength from tribulation that is gained. They know not of sleepless nights and the weary eyes that weep under the blackness of dark rain. I look through their windows and see the sickness and cirrhosis of their souls. Their rapid aging from the years of wickedness and perpetual lying, causes blackness and hardening of the nails and the brittleness of bones. I sit and contemplate my thoughts as a righteous king on his throne. To think they could lie in wait to wound me would show the stupidity of their audacity. They thought they would take advantage of my anxiety, but in their futility they couldn’t find me. I transcend; I transcend then begin again. Submerged in dark waters of agony and writhing pain I arise with fire in my eyes to conquer and reclaim. My enemies must vacate the throne upon which the sword and scepter bear my name.
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In adoration I look upon your beauty.
I touch you and heaven touches me.
I am infused with love,
But do I confuse love with lust? No;
I know, because in silent reflection
My heart whispers to me … Love, love, love.
I am yet resurrected in the tenderness of your voice;
It is in knowing that you love me
Is why I have cause to rejoice.
It is you that I call on;
It is you who has rescued me from the storm.
My tears fall but I am not betrayed,
For the falling of my tears is not pain but joy displayed.
My burgundy rose; my morning dew;
Be my deep river of passion,
And let me immerse myself in you.
Let me taste of the sweetness of life.
In your glory you stand without a ring,
Yet from the start you were my wife.
Yet from the start you were my life.
Intimate Compositions 