In word and deed
I swore my fealty,
took the knee
and wore the ring.
And yet it
stopped not
your cruelty
to me
and everything
I held to be true
of love and loyalty,
valor and fidelity.
And so I withdrew
when love’s pale pallor
found no reciprocity.
I went inward indeed,
and have emerged as
something more,
just less
the burden of you.
No need
to carry on
the carrion
of love.
On her garden bench she smiles.
In her eyes, no cunning wiles,
only shyness.
Humble, sweet
innocence I will entreat.
Quickly to one knee I go,
hearts beat fast, but time goes slow.
Everyone she knows above,
witness this display of love.
See the ring here,
diamond bright.
Yes, I love you!
Yes, it’s right!
Say you love me too, my dear.
Don’t let my heart dangle here.
Lovingly she takes my hand,
tenderly slips on the band.
Fading now, the vision’s gone.
It’s her grave I’m standing on.
Springtime’s redolent perfumes
always linger
where she blooms.
Amid the wreckage of Love’s palace he stood, looking at the blood and rubble of what had once been splendid and vibrant and good.
No more.
Empty now, his sobs echoed in the broken rafters, louder for that he’d told himself he wouldn’t cry.
Men have no feelings, no hearts. They are but brute and rutting beasts capable only of low thought and high mischief.
Darkness gathered at the window, peering in on him with its pale lunar eye lighting the ruin he’d become, kneeling with his face in his hands, shoulders shaking like a trembling child.
Sudden, cruel, and terrible had been the sound of her high-heeled footsteps, staccato clacking like small caliber shots to his heart.
Dignity lost, manhood scattered, his ice veins turned to water,and the water came out through his eyes. Despair had him by the throat and pulled the anguish out of him. He gave himself over and vowed he would always remember
And in the morning after, he would begin to become whole again,
But in the mourning after, he would never forget.
When drifting down these darkened banks
I see a million stars that draw
My wondering stare.
I find my thoughts
shine like the moon
on you,
your shadow walking
through the misty air.
I don’t know if you wait
or if you’re gone.
I only hope your smile
will greet me there.
But if you’re not,
I’ll grieve as life goes on,
and find my thoughts
turn into misty air.
I hear the gurgling crackle
of the waves.
The current’s hand
both pulls and pushes there.
The gentle wind does
stir the current so.
The fog starts waltzing
with the misty air.
I wonder if I’ll ever make it back
to kiss your lips,
and touch the raven hair
that tickles at my neck and chest
as care dissolves to love
upon the misty air.
Where will I find you?
“Where will you look?”
Over the mountain.
“Down in the nook.”
Into the valley
“Verdant and lush.”
Find you by sunset.
“Hurry and rush.”
“Where will I find you?”
Where will you look?
“Over the river.”
Down by the brook.
“Into the cottage.”
Through the red door.
“We’ll find each other.
Parting no more.”
I finally showed myself to him.
My heart I did reveal.
He turned and ran.
I caught him.
He became my evening meal.
His blood was rich,
his scream sublime.
And as I held his head
I bit his throat apart
and sucked.
He bled and bled and bled.
His skin grew cold.
His heart grew weak
as in my rage I slew.
“Did you not realize,” I asked,
“that I’m in love with you?”
And in the end he shuddered hard
within my arms and died.
“I loved you too.”
His final words.
I cried and cried and cried.
Look,
a tigress.
Her
green eyes
over the rim of the glass
of Sangria
stare through me
as she
contemplates
her next move.
I see her at the edge
of her territory,
confident, fearless,
and ready to explore
new boundaries.
Like a
broken-winged bird
resigned to its fate,
I can only stare
into the depths
of those
verdant,
ocular seas,
and wait
in hope
she strikes.
Miranda emerges from the ocean,
curves like seashells,
warm and vibrant.
Eyes full of sun-diamonds
like the ones that cap the waves
that cling to her, wanting her for their own.
No, goddess, that way lies madness…
She twists the seawater from
her hair, and shakes it
as she runs it through her fingers,
and makes me want to be a strand.
She walks the warm sand,
a native nomad,
her smile as she lifts
her face to the sun puts it to shame.
And I feel like the first explorer
to claim these shores
who found its only treasure,
watching as she trails my dreams like
small plane banners
behind her
as she leaves.
Please check out my short story sequel to the classic myth
on Wattpad. 7 short chapters. Leave a like or comments! A shortstory sequel to the classic myth.
Back then, the pit as warm red embers glow
But soon the fire and clawed, webbed wings will grow
The chains will melt that bind me far below
And soon for you, he’ll make the hot wind blow
See how against the moonlit sky he soars
Forgetting steely bars and oaken doors
The ship is no escape, set down your oars
There’s thunder, flame and lightning in his roars
See now the fire raining from the sky
So hot it cooks the skin and blinds the eye
And in the slaughter’s wake there is no why
Perhaps the flame will spare you if you cry
Untethered are we, fire in the cloud
As flying low we skim across the crowd
Our hearts within us passionate and proud
Our battle cries are ringing long and loud
When the alarum bells toll, run and hide
The armies intertwine and fight with pride
But warfare ever was a prickly bride
And vanquished now, we wash out on the tide
What sealed our fate remains a mystery
And now we are a different form of free
It struck us odd because we couldn’t see
That love is best to fight your enemy
Beyond Panic 