Category: Connection

In the Black

And these, my hopes,

now come to stillness,

spent in small and looping

hopeless, frothing eddies,

broken on stones

upon this lifeless shore.

 

The angels weep on me.

Their sobs are thunder.

They snap their saddened sodden wings

to the rhythm of

my racing, raging heart

and sear the sky

with lightning.

 

And out there, my dreams…

There! Floating on the rising tide,

are sailing far and fast,

eluding me forever

with full-wind sails,

but a

cracking mast….

They do not know.

Let them drown adrift,

as my sorrow

in my cups.

 

For now, though despairing in black,

beneath black clouds,

by black water, in black mood,

I yet await

the shining sun,

and

the turning tide.

 

 

 

As I Sat Looking at the Sea

As I sat looking at the sea,

The sea was looking back at me.

“Tell me, O man,” it seemed to say,

“Where would you like to go today?”

 

“I’d like to be inside a shell,

a full sail rising in a swell,

a shark fin slicing through a wave,

a sea-snake lurking in a cave!”

 

The sea then laughed

“That’s quite a list!”

and clothed me

with a kissing mist,

 

And plucked me from

the sitting rock,

and took me

from the safety dock,

 

And gave me

all I did desire

of fish, and fowl

and ocean fire

 

And showed me wonders

floating by

not seen before with

Human eye.

 

“Reach out,” it said,

“and touch and feel

the shimmering coral,

the shocking eel,

 

the slick grey dolphin

playing there,

the breaching whale

that tastes the air,

 

“And in the darkness

of my floor

are creatures

best not counted for…”

And as the sun set,

then the sea

released its hold,

and set me free.

 

And sprayed my cheek,

and went its way.

So I remember

to this day

 

When I sat looking

at the Sea,

and in its depths,

discovered

Me.

 

 

 

The Dreamstones of Kalpana

Recommended reading on WriteHere: The Dreamstones of Kalpana – http://wh.tl/160501-8

Source: The Dreamstones of Kalpana

Moonlight Mistress

Draw me deeper,

Moonlight Mistress

into your land

of soft shadows,

the blush of your

cheek tinged

in deep blue inks

 

Draw me deeper,

Moonlight Mistress,

into the lemon-pale

playpen of your

midnight lair.

 

 

Draw me deeper,

Moonlight Mistress,

into silver-flecked eyes

that hold

mystery

and key

 

Draw me deeper,

Moonlight Mistress,

behind fragile,

obsidian feathers

hiding tender lips

that kiss

and whisper

and sing

of love

 

Draw me deeper,

Moonlight Mistress,

into the

Essence of you,

real and intangible,

far-off, yet visible,

distant, but reachable.

Incomprehensible.

 

Draw me deeper,

Moonlight Mistress,

and disperse me;

I would be the lunar light

suffused upon your

starlit skin

 

Shining on you

from the outside,

glowing with you

from the inside,

until the

cold, unfeeling dawn

baptizes us with dew,

and the

absolving morning sun

dissolves us

together

 

Drawing us

closer,

and

deeper still.

Haunting Melody

You haunt the lake now

Melody?

What are you searching for?

 

You cry aloud so mournfully!

It pierces to the core…

 

I see translucent tears aglow!

How can a spirit cry?

 

It’s me you look for,

Melody?

I didn’t want to die.

 

I ask forgiveness,

Melody,

for holding you below

 

The dark and murky

water where

you didn’t want to go.

 

Do not approach me,

Melody,

with eyes of fire and hate

 

You said you loved,

but I did not,

and now it is too late.

 

So I insisted,

Melody,

that we could both be free;

 

I didn’t know the

end of you

would be the

end of me.

Do the Bones of Men Remember?

Do the

bones of men

remember days

of brave and

daring deeds?

Do they long for

love and battle

when they rode their

noble steeds?

Do they mourn

the silent rhythm

of a strong and

beating heart?

Do they miss the

lilt of melody

and master works

of art?

Do they once recall

the clamor and the clanging

of their toil?

And the scent of

perfumed women

and the seasons

and the soil?

Do the

bones of men

remember night

and moon and sea

and star?

Do they contemplate

the faulted flesh that made them

what they are?

Do the bones remember

holding onto children, home

and wife?

Do the bones remember

anything at all of

loving life?

When we return to dust

I pray our bones will only sleep,

instead of dreaming

of the things of life

we couldn’t keep.

 

Dark Artemis

What verdant limb

tore

the remnant

of

my soul

that you hunt me?

What spore of heart

did I scatter,

that you

search me out?

My desire for freedom

is as deep,

if not deeper,

than your desire

to kill it.

Yet

as I flee your arrows,

my Dark Artemis,

I wonder if I’m really

searching for

a trap,

that you may

claim me

 

Or a corner,

where I must fight

to keep my heart,

or die a trophy

in your embrace,

 

And wonder

which I’ll choose…

Dead Affections

I come again by the light of a sickle, sickly moon

to an old, cracked and mossy stone. In front of it, a

tarnished vase of long-decayed flowers, liquified

with rot and mold

Cold mist covers me like a tattered prayer shawl,

and the wolves stand still and watch from the pines.

I go down to one knee, and brush the lichen off the letters,

now almost level with the stone.

I sigh, searching my heart for the kernel of it once again,

hoping against hope, knowing it is no longer there,

and just not willing to concede.

Its leaving was painful, and it almost

severed my fingers

as I tried to keep it close.

The pain was so great, I could only beg in silence.

The thought of the looming, yawning chasm

of its absence paralyzed me, and my trembling fingers, unable to

take any more,

released it.

On my first visit here, the memories were like the flowers:

fresh, vibrant, full of color, fragrant with life.

But just as the flowers would make no new petals,

we would make no new memories,

and in time, these I cherished turned to sepia,

now tinged an ashy gray.

You made me feel life was worth living.

You lied.

And yet, still, the letters of your name

can be seen,

and I whisper it to the

black, eternal sky.

“Love.”

The Haunting

The haunting

of these

hallowed halls

comes when the

Midnight bell

is ringing

 

And the maiden

climbs the stairs

to stand there in the choir loft

singing

 

Lovely, high and sweet

her voice

The notes ring long

in beam and rafter

 

Then sweet voice

begins to quake

And singing turns

to demon laughter

 

And the fight

for her fair soul

begins with

every night anew

 

And I relive

the sin I did

that killed her love

and turned it blue

 

I have no reason now

to stay

I only know

I cannot leave

 

For I did love her once

you see

and for her fair soul

I did grieve

 

but my eyes strayed

as did my heart

as did my flesh

and I unclothed

 

Drove in the knife

that pierced the heart

and damned the soul

of my betrothed

 

 

And now she walks

these ruined halls

Once stately, grand and

full of life

 

And looks at me with

sad,wet eyes

that say

I should have been

your wife.

 

So from the palace roof

I plunged

while Midnight bell

did twelve times toll

The last knell saw a broken

shell of bone and blood

and fleeing soul

 

Now two walk

moonlit halls together

when the Midnight bell

is ringing

Saying now their

wedding vows

 

in harmony

in the choir loft

 

singing

Knowing Alexandria

Such secrets

such mystery

such knowledge of

promising delights

unwritten and unbound

shine

in your eyes

 

Alexandria

 

The bow and curve of

your teasing, smiling lips

holds the binding lock

of a

challenge,

daring a kiss

to pass the sensuous

bow and curve

of

your hips,

where the

key of release

hides

by the curved bow

in your hand

 

I am not

afraid

of

knowing you

 

Alexandria

 

I would explore

the shelved labyrinths

of love

with you

 

I would trace your illuminated tears

with my fingertips

and peruse the story in your laughter

with my hands in

your raven hair,

turning the page of you

to my heart’s content

 

In our storied, torrid passion

I would hunt at your side

and be your prey

in a bed of myrrh

buried

beneath

you

in fiery ruin

 

I would know you,

 

Alexandria

 

and never be

the wiser