A poetic journey through my mind

Posts tagged “wings

Wings

why am I still swimming? why do I stay in this stagnant pool,
this stinking morass of blood and bone and soul?
is it because I wish it so? I who once so boldly owned the sky?
Est-ce que…it is because…I have grown old, and can no longer fly.

once were my wings of silk and satin made,
the pearly hues of heaven in their shade.
now they are torn and ripped and ragged things,
I drown in their embrace, my salt tears sting.

no longer can I do more than glimpse the sky so far above,
a bit of cloud, a hint of blue, a memory of long forgotten love.
once begotten love, long gone rotten love, love that was my all…until I found it,
until I felt the work and pain, the desperate loss, the many sharpened edges which surround it.

once were my wings of silk and satin made,
the pearly hues of heaven in their shade.
now they are torn and ripped and ragged things,
I drown in their embrace, my salt tears sting.

the sky is gone, I still swim on, despite my raddled hearts most fervent wish,
I circle the eternal drain, consuming only tasteless pain, sorrow in a cracked ceramic dish.
seasoned with guilt, served by my own hand, a VIP in a restaurant of one,
the body survives, worse, it dares to thrive, a rotting corpse beneath the poisonous sun.

once were my wings of silk and satin made,
the pearly hues of heaven in their shade.
now they are torn and ripped and ragged things,
I drown in their embrace, my salt tears sting.

will you follow me down, will you watch as I drown,
will you witness the wreckage of what once was fine?
in the depths of the well, this secret I tell…
I drown in the stinking sewer of my own mind.


A Cardinal Moment

The sun glows bright behind the night,

My eyes too blind to see,

Until a shining  piece of life,

Flips his tail at me.

Crimson wings slice through the doom,

A candle in the dark,

Fanning the fire within my heart,

That last redeeming spark.


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.