A poetic journey through my mind

Archive for March 26, 2012

Light (Sunday Post)

This is my contribution to the Sunday Post weekly challenge.  I’m not completely satisfied with it, but I’m not sure why, and I know the more I struggle with it the harder it’ll resist.  So here it is.  😛  (rewrite/edit.  Much thanks and hugs to my friend Len, who never fails to impress me with her insight and brains.  She rewrote the end of the poem for me, creating a much needed end point where I had left it wide open.  Now, a challenge to all…who can tell me the three classic fairy tales that I reference here?  Good luck!)

the green light of jealousy, madness and fear,
the light of friendship, cherished and dear,
a glint of light on an apple so red,
the light that fades from the eyes of the dead,
the light that shines through the crystalline bier,
the healing power of light from a tear.

the light that shines in a cruelly high tower,
the light that marks each lonely hour,
a sparkle of light from a helm far below,
the light that makes eyes blink as downward they go,
the light of old power, as danger draws near,
the healing power of light from a tear.

golden curls gleam with a light all their own,
light in the blue eyes that sparkled and shone,
the green glow of jealousy, hatred and spite,
the flash of lightning that cuts through the night,
light that gleams from a needles sharp tip,
the light that fades from the candles that drip.

the light that returns to the dusty old halls,
the light from the candles that glow on the walls,
light fills the ballroom as chandeliers sway,
a thousand bright candles turn night into day,

light in the eyes that open and gleam,
awaking from sleep to the light of loves dream.


Dorme’

Waiting…

Waiting…

Was there ever a time in which
she didn’t lie there,
uncharacteristically silent,
those brilliant crystal eyes
shut away behind pearly lids,
that expressive oh-so-useful mouth
gone slack and restfully still?

Was there ever, truly, a time when
our two voices mingled in these halls,
when our footsteps echoed
as we pelted across marble tiles,
laughing, to fall at last upon her bed?

And what a bed it was.
Two acres of the finest satins and silks,
piled to the depths of a well
with featherbeds and down stuffed pillows,
none of it softer than the feel of her skin on mine.

The strong heavy curtains hid us from sight,
muffled the happy sounds of our play.

I, I had her first! Not some slobbering hairy beast
whose only interest in her is as some
obscene planter for his seed,
like a greedy farmer
calculating the yield of his crops!

HE SHALL NOT HAVE HER!

And so I wait. Here in these rooms thick with unnatural sleep.
Here, behind the shadow of the towering hedge I have so carefully tended,
its thorns as wide as my wrist, as sharp as thought…I wait.

(Hmm…seems this poem works for quite a few prompts this week.  That makes me happy, as you all know I love my fairy tales.  So thank you  again, WeWritePoems, for letting me do what I love!)


By the River

I walked along the river bank through many an hour of dreaming,
imagining the fairy world that lay beyond its seeming,
its overhangs were council halls, it seemed they rang with greetings,
as the seats of mangrove roots filled up at the fairyville town meeting.

Under bridges dark and drear, trows and boggans creeping,
tiptoe as you pass them by, we’ll not disturb their sleeping.

butterflies dance slow pavannes, above the rivers gleaming,
if you should chance to look away, they drop their insect seemings,
and shining bright, the fairies dance, with glowing wings aflutter,
but look again and all that’s left is the waters passing mutter.