There is a certain sense of tranwuility that often reigns from reading poetry. Personally, I adore Frost and Shakespeare. Frost because of his use of nature in it's most naked form and Shakespeare for his emotion. There aren't many poems that are able to truly move me, however, I do find that these two writers are able to do so almost every time. I have also taken my turn to writing. As I have said in an older post, I adore to read; and so, it is only natural to love to write. I have attempted to write a couple novels but never really got around to finish them. I also found my plots weak and badly shaped, although I have found that I am a good writer, both from colleagues and teachers. Here are a couple of, what I find, are my best work:
Leviathan
He rises up into
the sky,
And all must
stand by.
Scales of black
upon his back
And with every
breath, he seems to hack,
An oily sinew
oozes out.
His maws are
holes of burning doubt.
All thy people
seem to cry
Since within every single eye,
Lays a pit of
writhing souls.
They reach out
into the cold,
And feel nothing
but burning coals
Fire burns from
the jaws,
As lighting
booms in applause.
Gray smoke
billows from his nose,
And darkness
slinks between his toes.
False rainbows
doth he show,
As all his
minions start to go
Reflections are
lost in the fusing skin,
The battle can
now begin.
A clash of
swords echoes through,
As many fight
with all their might,
But the beast
only grew and grew
He feeds off of
fright,
As he smiles in
delight.
Every soldier, a
captive to death
He absorbs every
breath
Heaven’s fire
lashes down
As warriors lay
face-down
Leviathan caws
in contentment
But there is one
last ascendant
He has no fear,
facing the beast
A sword in hand,
warrior ‘till the end
Gabriel’s wings
will be released
A combat of
white and black
Neither will
ever fall back
As lightning and
thunder start to blunder
One gains
advantage over the other
He has no fear,
facing the beast
A sword in hand,
warrior ‘till the end
Gabriel’s wings will
be released
And Leviathan
will be deceased.
The last
goodbye
The dreary air
wraps around her;
An abandoned
girl drowned in liqueur.
Surrounded by
forgotten souls,
The looming
clouds swirl into dark art,
Leaking despair into
her heart.
Gently tracing
the caving letters,
A crack in the
sombre stone; a hidden treasure.
While locks of
curls stir in the wind,
Her porcelain
skin seems to freeze
As her breath
chokes on the memories.
She’ll close her
pinpricked eyes,
And whisper to
the skies;
Every word she
hadn’t spoken,
Uttered through
needles of anguish,
As every melody
seems to vanish.
Once a thousand
images clash together
Tender laughter
bubbles over,
And a faithful
smile shapes her lips.
She gets lost in
forest of dreams left behind;
The unfinished
hopes of a young mind.
The smell of
rain breathing in her ears,
Droplets
screaming in her tears.
Forgotten floers
crumble between her fingers,
The goodbye
she’d never wanted
Always
leaving her haunted.
With nothing left
to say,
She’ll leave the
blossoms astray,
With the inked
eyes of a mournful child,
And fierce
resolve to end what started
She wandered
into the uncharted.
The Last Owl
Walking along
the undergrowth,
I’ll look back
and remember our oath.
The scent of
moss breathing through the trees
as shadows loom
like beasts in the seas.
All I search for
is your guidance
when the night
air screams in silence.
Darkness
crawling through my path;
all the gremlins
grin and laugh.
Torn moments
seeping through;
ripped ribbons
bleeding drops of dew.
The flicker of
an old memory:
the image of the
child drenched in treachery
As curls spill
over her shoulders,
flames writhe
like fallen soldier. .
Her empty eyes
leaking catastrophe,
a mischievous
smirk snaking naturally.
A blush of red,
the only color
apples in her
candied whisper.
Like choking
vines tightening with lies;
her words as
sharp as knives.
Sorrow crystallized
on my cheeks
as charmed
thickets twine among creeks.
Nightmares of my
forgotten path;
they draggle
through the aftermath.
All the beauty
behind the efflorescence
oozing out from
the pure brilliance
Iridescent
blooms tangle through the fog;
glowing blossoms
of an epilogue
Now falling to
the forest’s bed,
taken down by
the words she said
A lonely sound
echoing in the night;
the coo from an
owl cried in fright.
Untitled
A tender touch;
A light blush.
A brush of lips;
Smouldering fingertips.
Tracing every line...
Memorizing.
Your breath
before death.
Your warmth
before a labyrinth.
Your essence
for coalescence .
Details to fathom...
Imprints.
A curved grin;
fluttered beats within,
moments drenched in sin.
Rings of green
truly unforeseen;
glimpsed simply by the keen.
Bounded by a bridge:
a peak and ridge,
Cascading to the edge.
Memories lasting forever...
Our moments spent together.
Dancing
Angels
Honesty reigns
through his eyes
from jewelled
greens to the blue of skies.
An enchantment
pours out of every string;
Open doors of
silver rings.
Righteous
gateways to his soul,
a gentle nature
of burning coals
The darkened day
whirls into despair,
but in his faith
I discover a brilliant flare
A simple smile
clings to my thoughts,
my mind
bewildered by stopped clocks.
Warmth radiating
from his touch,
fingertips
brushing a sweet blush.
Honesty reigns
through his eyes
from jewelled
greens to the blue of skies.
A safe haven; a
place to hide,
as worship and
weakness seamlessly collide.
The soothing
sound of foaming waves;
an endless sea
of mindless days
The morning
glory breaking through
senseless
moments blazing true.
Glowing rays
kissing skin
as inspiration
swirls within
An enchantment
pours out of every string;
Open doors of
silver rings.
A million angels
dancing in the breeze;
golden apples
decorating leaves.
Every breath
seemingly undefined
delicate lines
fusing and twined
Forsaken gazes
through a window,
vines bending
from a willow.
Melodies
encircle his embrace
Droplets glowing
in his grace
Honesty reigns
through his eyes
from jewelled
greens to the blue of skies.
An enchantment
pours out of every string;
Open doors of
silver rings.
Terrible Beauty
Trees bleeding scarlet drops;
Crying out in golden tears.
Snow rains down on mountaintops;
Stripped dew of a swan in atmospheres.
She lays broken in a fairyland,
Unable to peice back memories
Crushed into oblivion by fate’s right hand.
As her soul floats through the breeze.
Golden rays leak from harmony,
Pouring down over broken hearts.
Lost blossoms scream in agony
As colors burst forth in swirls of art.
His heart reaches out in the wilderness,
And takes a shattered soul .
A safe heaven far from the darkness;
Where love binds two into a whole.
Wilted Orchids
Shadowed pools of moss and scented raindrops,
Winds creaks and lost horses take into gallops.
The crescents of liquid silver morphing into fear
As nightmare dreams hover in the atmosphere.
Leaves and vines twist into a lattice of dark nights.
When the broken feathers of a dove take flight.
Candied apples drip into blood as knives spill from words,
As cried echoes in a forsaken forest reign, unheard.
Torrentous waterfalls and terrified beauty slink from
darkness,
When flightless birds roam without solace.
Sundrops rain down
transforming into swelters.
As the essence of orchids melts into terror,
The wilted petals dance in a forgotten pond.
Sweet blossoms fading from every diamond.
Untold Fairytale
Where open glances awe upright,
The curve of lips defines dark skies
As stars shine through the celestial midnight;
And beauty reflects tenfold in your eyes.
Floating islands riddled with waterfalls
Where souls and bodies seamlessly entwine,
As doves set flight; dusk’s last call,
A single silver drop hangs from the divine.
Simple bliss stretched to infinite tides,
A fine fabric cradling the untold;
A gentle brush as fairytales collide,
Where bounded hearts truly unfold.
Bare flesh tickled by heaven’s breath,
As tangled locks sway between fingers.
Dawn crawls near; darkness’ death,
And every gentle moment carelessly lingers.
These, presented from oldest to most recent are my most emotional pieces. I believe that a lot of people may not like them at all and, honestly, I don't really mind. My poetry is a way for me to express myself. It's a way for me to get away from the world, just like reading. As it is for many others, poetry is a release of emotions; it is one of the most personal forms of literature. Do not judge or think, just read.
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