Snowbright

SNOWBRIGHT

snowbright

starsight

falling specks of  lovely light

winterlore

glitzgalore

pretty little crystal flight

you / me

uncertainty

in enchanting chilly night

http://cdn1.bipfa.net/i/attachments/1/1350484476224484_large.jpg

Something Wicked

SOMETHING WICKED

He stole into the moonlit night

Beheld a fright

Blanched horses' flanks

He turned the crank

And round the dark stampede began

The wooden clan

Like glit'ring gems

Below brass stems

Churning, groaning, dead yet living

Unforgiving

Colors blurring

Carillon whirring

Carousel of something wicked

Took his ticket

Glossy nostrils

 Snorted peril

Bright bulbs fizzled, faces mirrored

Shrieking terror

Stallion hooves stomped

Clacking teeth chomped

Then--no more--the music stilled

The foaming horses ate their fill

http://worldofescapes.com/uploads/quests/6656/large/puzzlemazement-ghost-hunters.jpg

Saint Kevin

SAINT KEVIN

Long ago, in Glendalough, 

Saint Kevin spent his days.

He lived alone in a house of stone, 

his hands aloft in praise.

One misted morning without a warning 

a blackbird fluttered down,

And in Kevin’s palm, steady and calm, 

she laid an egg speckled brown.

Gentle Kevin, so near to Heaven, 

could not bear to loose the egg,

So he did his best to become its nest 

and move neither arm nor leg.

When the egg did crack and a bird in black 

emerged and took to air,

Dear Kevin the saint, without a complaint, 

returned to his life of prayer.

https://64.media.tumblr.com/05041433de9631b293a4048c6f694f2d/tumblr_pwwsp8m09C1yo8nrro1_500.jpg

Question Nothing

QUESTION NOTHING

Question nothing of your fate

When gilded stars stream witches’ blood,

When magpies prick behind the ferns,

When bitter loves are tombed in mud.

Acquiesce in gratitude

If moistened eyes meet glaciers’ paths,

If wings are gifted for a jaunt,

If sleeping beasts are roused for laughs.

Hunt for silence in yourself

Where oceans crash with cores of fire,

Where urchins feed on shafts of sun,

Where oysters with their pearls conspire.

Emulate a prism's show

For flood waters will rise and fall,

For devils cannot stomp too long,

For glory’s found in knowing all.

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/6b/Solar_glory_and_Spectre_of_the_Brocken_from_GGB_on_07-05-2011.jpg/1200px-Solar_glory_and_Spectre_of_the_Brocken_from_GGB_on_07-05-2011.jpg

Voyage

VOYAGE

A summer voyage

Bears the desert dust of

Uber-bright days.

Beneath the half-closed lids of

Sun-hazed eyes,

Cornflower blues merge with the aureate

Mirages wafting above

Gray reality.

Sweltering, but sweet.

Still the pictures that come so fast,

Pouring from the mocking stars—

Flooding the veins of a miscalculated

Desire for

The impossible.

Warm blocks of time,

Pulsating rhythms,

Alcohol-induced daydreams,

Melting ice, and

Strangers—so beautiful—

Drifting through the lit streets

Of a ravenous mind

That can only remember memories as 

          mirth—

Only recall the golds and smiles of a

          season long gone—

Only hope to grasp such

A globe of embellished recollection

With fingers

All . . . too . . . real.

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/474x/aa/76/ee/aa76eeebfa30b5a42dccf473bc9fe8c6.jpg

Labyrinth

LABYRINTH

Labyrinth, hide this heart,

Down corridors pocked with doors.

Though tunnels may turn and corners collide,

The safety it seeks is yours.

Labyrinth, lose this thought,

Up stairways that never end.

Though ballrooms crumble and cellars burn,

The solace you give is its friend.

Labyrinth, smother this dream,

With walls that press all parts.

Though ceilings soar high and marble floors crack,

The freedom it hates will depart.

Labyrinth, make empty this hope,

Let minotaurs tear it to shreds.

It wanders so frightened and cries for its end;

It won’t be at peace ‘till it’s dead.

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8eZBwSuVIPG7GMimKEesm5RcMdN80WTshxGE2zb-udEaiCQP2AsTAuuC4fm8eJT5a4YfW2K2Ny29S_v7J5xxjMTQRPdVx4CTxxFqkbhocI9uCHFiU0IUfdEAct8XseqanTs1SP25cUgha/s1600/room.jpg

Moth

MOTH

Child, fluttering against the dark,

Moth wings dusted, gilt with a translucence

Manifest only to the heart,

Become what you promise to be.

Boy, moments past are ever-present,

Always who we are, an infinite endurance

Flitting above what is permanent,

Become what you promise to be.

Darling, the webs you build, they flower,

No small thing hopes for avoidance,

And gods, our dreams, devour,

Become what you promise to be.

Love, ensnared in winter’s box,

Winged thing, you move in elegance,

Turning keys in time’s false locks,

Become what you promise to be.

http://urbancomfort.typepad.com/.a/6a01156f70f21e970c017c388f8a32970b-800wi

Enchantment

ENCHANTMENT

Understand the way grass blades embrace the wind:

That’s how I’m waiting to feel . . .

The wind, frightening in its potential,

Is, to the grass, the only thing real.

Belief in the silence of the purest shaft of sunlight:

That’s all I’m asking to hold . . .

Whispering from the skies, glowing on the leaves,

The sunbeam’s life purpose is told.

Mimic how drops of water collect light in the darkness:

That’s what I need to do . . .

Despite their short durations, the droplets

Know how to make one beauty two.

Gain admittance past the quiet boundaries of your nature:

That’s where I wish to go . . .

Our blood is bound by what we sense;

Enchantment makes it so.

http://allswalls.com/?module=images&act=downloadResize&file=wishes-sprout-wallpaper-1.jpg&x=3360x1050&y=

The End

THE END

The crystal box of hours,

Minutes, years parsimoniously parcels out

Their end, not their beginning.

She jetés on legs of glass,

Each step a tick-tick-tick closer

To her end, not her beginning.

He grows in hot skin breaths,

Reigns a kingdom of intimate dreams

About his end, not his beginning.

They—locked in lifeless lassitude—

Forever suspended in tremulous space,

Not meant for this world, this rule-bound place,

They begin at the end.

http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/creepypasta/images/6/62/Hguhuehuhfbvd.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130904110221

The Corpse's Composition

THE CORPSE'S COMPOSITION

A corpse composes its decomposition,

Caressing the lusts that were its competition.

Awareness—it goes, but yearnings keep living,

The binds that confined them at last more forgiving.

Hungers don’t die; no, they burn after rot

Has consumed all the parts temporality forgot,

And a fantasy never fulfilled pulsates on,

A pumping gut now that the real thing is gone.

In darkest holes where the white worm holds its feast,

A million bone puppets are posthumous priests.

Locked into their coffins of sumptuous decay,

Mandibles chatter of what held them prey.

Though cognizance vanished, and souls found their cure,

Passions turned animate stir and endure.

Ten, twenty, two hundred, a thousand writhe deep

In the catacombs where all the true secrets keep.

https://the-public-domain-review.imgix.net/essays/photographing-the-dark-nadars-descent-into-the-paris-catacombs/48952459358_b8c7f706a6_b.jpg?fit=max&w=1200&h=850

Glamour

GLAMOUR

They—poppies

Eliciting opium stares

From the eyes of men in

Distant halls.

Delicate flowers,

Sing yourselves to sleep.

Glamour contorts the

Visions entertained

By those enamored

With its perforated promises.

https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSQzDqSqrW72HOMXY10CRqEMdQbmBxOGzBsZMABvIWoqeipK7kGwg

Daydream's Wheel

DAYDREAM'S WHEEL

Lying, back to the soft earth,

The wild brush reaching into the blue above,

Heather and thistle and lemongrass

Down drift in the air,

Grounding us--all that we know is real.

I find you, for what it's worth,

Less fictional than love,

A collection of short stories that last,

And for you, as for this place, I care.

There are so many lucid layers to peel.

Bare feet, laughter, a smile's birth,

Counting the colors of the wildflowers that hover

In time as it moves from present to past.

Perfection is a sentiment, perhaps unfair.

We are placed in this gentle ideal

With only the sunlight's unfolding girth

To dapple our skin through the foxglove.

This moment, fragile as glass,

Enchanting as it is rare,

Spins endless, a cog in this daydream's wheel.

https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8288/7719503168_4c9b6a54e5_b.jpg

Boil

BOIL

Waiting, never watching, not this pot

Want to look but scared to find

Scritch, scritch, scritch . . . it’s getting hot, hot, hot. 

Nails inside the dry, hollow rind,

Something striving, a cat stuck in the wall

Trembling like a ballooning spider in the mind

Don’t get close, your glance might fall

The liquid pearls rising, morphing into boil

Toxic! Warning! Danger always starts small

The velvet fern of a seedling claws through ill soil

Hotter, hotter, hotter. . . and the ruby rush

Emerges; the rapid plip, plipping of the water toils,

 Reaches the tempestuous point ! ! ! ʰweeeeeeesh!

https://ak.picdn.net/shutterstock/videos/1032466/thumb/1.jpg