I'm in a creative mood

[brightrosefox]

This is because dragonf1re loved my other poems, and I need a good boost right now. These are a few more favorites from a few years ago (during that two-year long distance romance, which obviously we don't need to worry about now):

*
Of Lost Dreams and Fairy Tales

I am mortal, but only a dream
Gray wisp of air, a fairy ring
Carved on the doorway of a trod
Forgotten, like the changeling
Or the antediluvian Chinese fox.

You are mortal, but only a dream
Gray pulse of vapor, a willow tree
Standing never again in sorrow,
Because you said you've found me.

We are not always human, but we are eyes
And hands, and mouths, and we touch
Honeyed kisses here and there,
With limb and tongue, like
Kittens nursing
Or playing together

But closer, like the closeness
Of falling stars, or clouds
Passing over a full moon
That, from so many miles away,
I hope you see through my eyes.



Winter Solstice

Hush hush
In the silence, hurry don't slip
The world is full of ice, go slow
To Mother,
Open arms full of pomegranate
Nature, earth, mother-child
Girl-woman in a frosted mirror
Silver on evergreen, dancing on a lake
Sun moves slowly, first long night
Stars and mid-light, dusk and twilight.
Dancing mother, crystal ball
Tomorrow, tomorrow
Snow falls silent, white hush
In the silence, run
Mother waits below,
Pomegranate seeds like snow and stars.
In winter
The stars are silent
Hush hush, a blanket white
With Mother's arms wrapped tight.



The Art Of Gray

Picture a sculptor's stone
Morning-cold, like hands
And hands that shape
Warm cold pale dark.
You feel it--the soft cut crater,
The moon in your hands
And the sense of one and the other.

It's balance, center, and deep within
The tip of black
Like a pen, the dab of white--
Paint-drip on black. Sheet of white,
Perfect snow, and fingerscratch black.
Black and white and in between
And symbol, bound like lovers.

Picture the balance of stone,
And center. The gray wizard
Head bowed arms crossed eyes closed
Perfect middle and skin warm-cold,
Chaos-order and thin-crossed line.
You feel it--the shadow and the sun,
Winter and your discontent.

Picture the life of stone,
Poised on the edge
Of the either-or and neverwhere
Magician with a perfect illusion
Arms raised head back eyes open
The doorway of balance
And this is the art of gray.



Lovergirl

She's the kind of woman you have to cut open
Like ripe fruit
Even then, secrets stay locked in glistening seeds
Even when she's bitten she won't tell.
She is me,
Under a proverbial knife
Which I call you.
But you never bleed me, and you never hurt me
You say I taste sweet even when I bite back.
This true love tastes like fruit,
This thing called love.
It smells like honey
The kind your lover licks onto your lips
The essence of you.
It feels soft like silk, and hands that touch
Caress and stroke and murmur and sigh.

I'm the kind of woman you have to chisel,
Like white marble.
I have secrets and I like to hide in dark corners.
I like this thing you give me
This thing called love
This thing that tastes like fruit
Smells like honey
And feels like silk.
I love being a lover.
I love being loved.
I love.



Gaia

Watch me, wait for me
I am your silence
Hold me, hold on
You have loved me.

My blood
A river; I have cried
A thousand tears
I cannot die
You were my children
You are and will be
You have torn me.

I will sink
I am dying
You are of me
I am in you
Children of blood
Darkness, torn
Stay with me
In me...to me
You have hurt me.

War
Pain
I am Death
As much as Life
But you can't hear me
You don't see me
My blood in you
And you kill me.



Eternally Yours

I saw the moon cry
Crystal tear of blood
I saw your face in a cloud

I watched the stars reach
My hands were pale as snow
I touched the moon, and your face

She let the tear fall
My palm a soft cup
Liquid silver, stuff of fate.

The sky an endless stretch of dream
The stars my beacon toward my home
When the dark night fills my soul
I will remember you.



Among Hollow Shadows

It is winter here and silent
Draped in graying shadows
Of a false and lonely dawn.
We are hollow ones, naked ones,
With voices like brittle ice
Breaking from ancient stone.
We do not expect to live
Any more than die
Existence here, when not linear,
Is much like a snake of myth
Devouring its own tail.

Here we have voices
But deep inside we are hollow
Shadows of whiteness like blindsight
Naked skin flushed with our mothers' milk
And blood within, dark and singing
Like the deep dreams of poets
Or the dying.

Here our eyes see
But never meet
Here we touch
Like reflections of passing thoughts
Slivers of mirrors long broken
There, and there,
And one by one,
We disappear.

This is how the world will end
Silent as winter
Or a sleeping god's dream.



Draw Down The Moon

There's a castle by the sea
Where the ghosts roam in all their loneliness
And in the sky beyond the window
There's a comet trailing purple fire
The mirror's cracked but not quite broken
Obsidian glass and golden frame
The staircase creaks when no one's footsteps
Make the climb
And the heavens grow so quiet when
I draw down the moon for you.

It's a ritualistic painting
Oil sweeps and sunset sky
You sat in the studio for hours
Arcing the brush down canvas wall
I am the sorceress who's painted
Arms stretched up toward the stars
And the twilight through your window
Is so strong and bright because I said
I'd draw down the moon for you.

I'm lying awake here in my bed
The pillow vacant beside me
There's no warmth for my body to behold
But the moon shares all her secrets with me
She knows just where to find you
I turn around and imagine
I feel you here

It's a ritualistic understanding
The secrets in her pale winter face
The universe has unleashed
The ultimate conspiracy
Then again I'm not complaining
I've got all the time in the world
We have all the time we need
To go and bend eternity
Provided you would wait
Until the witching hour
While I go and draw down the moon for you.



Ophelia’s Daughter

Every road a winding turn
Every river flowing forward, and
You can’t look down, and you can’t look
You don’t want to see, all cracked, distorted
Your eyes are holes and your skin is cracked snow
White with the apple, with poison in your throat.
Every time we see, we scream, cry into our shards
Of glass lying scattered on the floor.
We think it’s hate, we think tough love.
We think bird cages and white bones, we think
Vellum skin, silk skin, white skin
We think youth and we think purity.

Every door a broken lock, you can’t go in,
And you can’t listen, to the words on the other side
Because you broke the lock, don’t want to open the door.
Don’t want to listen, you can’t listen.
You lie here touching your hips, your bones
You lay in the night watching the moon
You feel your bones, your skin like silk
You see your eyes like ink in milk.

The world unwinding is long, and we follow
The tiny voice that whispers in our ears
And we dream of fruit and bread and honey.
The broken locks are on the floor, the voices on
The other side are quiet now, eyes watching us
At the edge of the world and we see down below
Where it’s dark but it’s darker
Inside our bones, and outside
There is fruit and bread and honey.
The voices are quiet now
And the road that winds, the river that flows
Goes on, as we step into the world
With fruit and bread and honey
And the voices are quiet now.



Glass Skin

I see you floating there
Underneath my skin where
paleness like glass and razors
that cut like the smallest scratch
on a glass lens, where you live
waiting for me to speak
while my throat is squeezed
by the serpent I swallowed
under hot lights and voices.

That was yesterday, years ago
show me the voices now,
where the lights are dim and
there are shadows that speak
and where no one hears a whisper
because of a shout that echoes in the hall
inside my head where I see you floating
there in my skin under the blue vein
pulsing in my wrist where whiteness breathes
where the razors won’t touch because I am glass
I am pure thin glass and you can't break me
I will be glass.

I'm underwater, breathing my fear
outside of my head drowning and here
voices in my line of sight keep drifting
where I can hear you call my name but I
keep drifting because I don't need you
but I do need you and I cry to the water
where I move and turn to water
because I can't be contained I don't choose
to be contained and again I see you
there under my skin where the blue vein pulses
you are smiling so I smile.

When I fall asleep I dream
of glass and sunlight and you breaking
my glass prison and as you smile
I smile back and say hello.