Poe laid flowers on her grave
His lost Lenore
One he’d love forevermore
But doomed to see her nevermore
Storm clouds expelled true daylight
Yet near her grave on a dead oak tree
An ebony raven stared and seemed to agree
“Nevermore,” the bird mocked, flying off with ironic glee
Clouds burst, pelting the cemetery with rain
Back to his horse and carriage Poe ran
Was Poe a pawn in this raven’s game plan
An unhealthy racing of his heart began
Arriving home, Poe sought to forget
But there was the red-eyed, sinister bird
Perched on the pallid bust of Pallas, it said just one word
“Nevermore,” was all Poe heard
Stealthily the bird had entered through an open window
“Did God summon you to add to my grief?”
Poe pleaded, “Will I ever find relief?”
“Nevermore,” cried the demon, to Poe’s disbelief
Poe tried to rid his home of the tormenting invader
“Fly away; take your word with you!”
But the evil visitor would not bid adieu
Its single word was malicious; Poe could not misconstrue
When rainfall ended, the raven flew to the windowsill
“Be gone!” Poe screamed, his voice filled with hate
It eyed him once more, leaving Poe in a crazed state
But loving memories of Lenore it could not desecrate
*Written October 1, 2014
While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.
Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel,
And so before it I choose to kneel.
I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.
I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.
I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.
My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.
Winter grates as the blackbird roams
through frosted limbs of trees... and shrills;
while moon hides from a brooding night
its call, the threadbare air, refills.
My eyes mirror this drowning hymn
while breaths cry out to agonize.
Deep within a starless backdrop
iced feathers cause anguish to rise.
And ebon wings defrock my mind
embedding stains on bleak frontier;
keeper of omen dares to haunt
as love’s requiem awaits here.
Though wrapping the light from its crawl,
snowflakes drop on my pallid face
till raven foul the morning breaks ;
in dawn’s arms I lose fate’s embrace.
Kelly Deschler's The Raven
Scared by the sound of his own voice
Following the girl home from school
In his mind this is normal
He grabs her jacket
Pulling her backwards unto the ground
Placing a cloth around her nose and mouth
Gagging her until she sleeps for a while
He drags her through the woods
Branches hitting her every which way he turns
Dragging her along until he reaches the cabin
Picking her up over his shoulders opening the door to the cellar
Locking the door behind him he walks down the stairs slowly
He places her on a chair and ties her wrist to the handles
Tying her feet to the legs of the chair
Tightening the rope around her neck to the back of the chair
He undresses her waiting for her to wake up
Several hours pass
She wakes up
Sweating and screaming
Crying and yelling at him
He places duct tape around her mouth
Placing a knife against her stomach
She groans and yelps
He takes the knife away and looks at her
Grabbing her face and telling her shes beautiful
He turns around and stands with his back towards her
As he starts to say
But its the beautiful people that need fixing
He takes the tape off her face and holds her chin tightly
He carves a smile on her face
Cutting her mouth from ear to ear
Smile dear it makes you adorable
He grins and sits the knife down
Laughing as she bleeds
She tries to move her mouth
It just drops open
He looks at her smiling
Now that makes you truly beautiful
He leaves her there for a while
Placing a needle with a string attached to it
Sticking it into the skin around her mouth that is hanging open
He stitches her back together
Cant make up his mind
He slaps her and leaves her there for another few days
She sits with her eyes peeled wide open
A tear falling as she tries wiggling her hand free from the rope
As she frees her hand she runs her fingers over her stitches
Only to find out her whole mouth has been stitched together
She cant speak
She can only mumble
She frees the rest of her limbs
Trying to stand up and walk but she's to weak and falls
He runs down the stairs
Yelling at her to get up
She doesn't move
He kicks her in the stomach
She doesn't budge
He picks her up and uses her as a puppet
For his own needs
He then buries her beside his other victims
Only to find out shes still alive
Her hand slips through the dirty old mud
Written as the words poured out after I read a lady’s poem this morning on the
You have it all
I hear it all. I read it all
All the lack of life’s contentment
The mind goes on, and on and on
Pouring out resentment
Cause this is what mind’s all about
It’s fickle and it’s dull
Mind can always cause one trouble
But never make one whole.
You’re given all you need my friend
To have heart filled with joy
All you need is self-acceptance
But your world you do destroy
By wanting what you cannot have
As you live for future days
Or the past that’s gone forever
Hey lady, Lift your gaze.
You were given everything
The day that you was born
The sun, the flowers, the birds that sing
The beauty of the dawn
But now you’ve let your mind take over
So you live in misery
Learn to still the thoughts, my friend
And then you will be free
22 July 2014 @ 0647hrs.
Sitting on a wire
Why is your back turned towards me?
Do you wish to hide the intelligence of your eyes,
or do you wish to create some mystery?
I have seen you
Here at this old dump
Picking through the unwanted wanted things
I wish I could search along with you
Check out what the Jones's have no more use for
The bits of unfixed
The not new enough
Their "I think we deserve the very best"
"This ain't good enough, let's buy more and more stuff!"
At one time
I wore their discarded clothes
Wore them without pride
I should have been proud
For I dug for them with wanting hands
Hands that waded through decadence
I watched you and your brothers
As you feasted on our last suppers
Ripping open black bags
Fighting for morsels
Unconcerned with the rotting
Intoxicated by fermenting fruit
Bones that needed to be picked clean
Me noticing but not recalling until now
I was hoping
Praying for a bicycle
Desperately wanting to ride far away from here
Escape my then
My, I hope no one sees me!
"Where did you get that coat?"
"We threw that in the dump!"
Boy oh boy do I like clothes now.
No one makes fun of what I wear!
Part of me wishes to return with you Black Bird
To see what I left behind
Recycle that little boy
But I can't
The dumps aren't open anymore
It is like those old bones
Items placed in appropriate piles
All the while
You sit on your wire
Back turned to me
Intelligent eyes hidden
Knowing I can't disturb you
In a while you will feed on yesterday
For this place
Is not closed to you!
Crown of Sonnets
I am lost
I can feel no presence
I know of no human or animal that has a measure of significance alike mine
I have a teacher
A teller of all there is to be known of the world
She has bestowed upon me the gifts of a magi
I have sailed deep oceans with noblemen and written great works with worldly scholars
All of this I owe to her, my "teacher"
But through all her wisdom I have heard or seen of no such creature
The one of whose value is as mine
I looked upon the oracle and many great libraries with scriptures overflowing
I still have read or seen of no such monster
I've heard witches speak ancient incantations
and I have sung songs with the sirens
Out of the monsters and spirits that came none of which had a significance as is mine
Upon my dreariness and woeful thought came the final place
A painting of life and death
A tale of heaven and hell at war
The purity of truth blackened by man
I saw upon them a thing of which is mine
Not upon the dead who will be missed
Nor the skeletons carrying away the dead, the ones with purpose
Not even of the severed limbs and broken bones discarded at random in the field of chaos and confusion
No, I saw my equal upon the shadows
A black being darker than silence
A causer of mischief and misfortune
A wielder of pain and sorrow
My equal is hated by all for all he has done
My equal is upon the wicked and the damned sadly he is to dumb to care
My equal of such tresspasses is a demon
My equal is a man who dressed in black kills and dies and is born again through his ashes of filth
He sees his crimes
It is because of this he wept upon his hands
The hands stained my children's blood and scared by the scratches of the innocent
But I was wrong
I am not equal to a demon, for these are not the acts of a demon but of man
That is my equal
My equal is man
My sins are everlasting
My transgressions are in stone
Man is the cause for the failure of men
Man is the cause for the failure of many!
Posted by Haley Melton at 3:37 AM
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Why aren’t we happy?
What is it in the most of us?
We are not how we should be
We should be like a singing bird
Who boldly, in the trees
Sings his song when fear is done
His life just flows along
He only knows the dance of life
So he just sings his song.
And yet we humans live our lives
Enfolded in our fears
Glorifying in the sad
And making this quite clear
As we always speak of doom and gloom
And watch it on TV
And always live our lives in fear
Is this the way it should be?
If only each would take a look
And see just what we be
We never see the flowers grow
Or let our hearts be free
Maybe it’s time to see the truth
Of what this life could be
If we look at life without the fear
And live with mystery.
6 August 2013 @ 1908hrs.
My knees were the things that
kept me up and my skin is my
cutting board my eyes are the
rain clouds to the fire running
down my arms and my heart is
the fire place that keeps me
burning so calm
Trapped like a bird in this filthy cage
Where I am starved of compassion and understanding
Left to survive on meager crumbs
Of affection and tolerance
Held captive and unable to fly and be free
From the physical and emotional restrictions
Placed upon me by my keeper
Who’s only reason for my presence it seems
Is to stay its loneliness and insecurity
To feed its selfish need for control
Through its twisted concept
Of love and adoration
I am looked upon as a possession
Other than the living, breathing individual
That I long to be
So now I sit upon my proverbial perch
In my so called gilded cage
In the confines of my seemingly mundane existence
And walk though my mind confused and alone
Aimlessly wandering through the now empty spaces
That no longer hold the dreams or aspirations
Which I once thought gave my life purpose
Memories which were bright and alive
Full of promise and hope but have faded away
Into a past that is now grey and bleak
Devoid of anything worth remembering
My footfalls echo in the silence
Giving testament that these memories
Have been empty and forgotten long ago
My only hopes now are that my keeper
Will grow tired of my deliberate silence
And obvious disdain and release me
Whether through life or by death
At this point either would be welcome
How I long for the freedom
And comfort of the clear blue sky
The ability to soar like a bird
High above the reaches
Of those who only want to keep me
And fly towards the bright and colorful horizon
Where I know my future waits
And new memories and dreams can be made.
There is a bird
inside your heart
that's singing to the moon
of lives around you
friends around you
and all you cherish
Just listen to the bird
when it does not whistle
but sings a melody
sad songs in your ears
Burning down all around EVERY LIVING SOUL.
UP IN SMOKE, You choked? That MIRROR YOU KNOW
YOU BROKE? The flames you stoked. UP IN SMOKE.
Not a living soul has an ABODE to call their own. No
HUT NOR HOME. Be stronger than strong sang the playing
Song. Now WHO STIRRED THE VERB? EVERY LIVING
SOUL HEARD THE WORD. "WELL, on the brink of the brim
Of a empty bottle of rum" grunted the sober bum.
HOMELESSNESS ABOUNDS. BURNING DOWN ALL AROUND.
THE FIRES RAGED WITH MORE BLAZE. Then hear the
FURIOUS FLAMES FLICKER AND FIGHT FOR FUEL.
EVERY LIVING SOUL CRIED WITNESSING THEIR FUTURE
Up in smoke, cursed the soaring bird. Quenching, down CAME
The crushing DELUGE FROM HOSES, SEEMING to be every
Where in mediocre DOSES.
"THE END OF LIFE AS WE KNOW IT " said my fine feathered
Friend first to fly.
The end of life as we know it, repeated I, and I AM ON HIGH.
THAT'S THE WORD. AMEN, AMEN AND AGAIN AMEN.
Reflections of imperfections
have shown me a way
that I can move mountains
through my power of faith
even though I can't see him
I know he is real
through the power of prayer
and a Love that I feel
It's growing inside me
like a flower in bloom
shall I reveal my powers
or is it too soon
I am reading the signs
through my darkness I find
a reason for belief in
the light of mankind
that I know shall overcome
the greatest of odds
the Love I seek amazes me
especially through the flaws
because now I am inspired
through the hero's that bring
my throne through the darkness
on which I return on as your King.
Is a maniac.
He ate a turd
From a sick bird.
That’s a sad fact.
Big Cat Roars.
A big cat roared in the wilderness,
As the birds fled to the skies,
As the echo’s of the thunderbirds
Be drowning out their cries.
As mad, mad man goes off to war,
And young men die
Oh Lord what for?????
The dark green bird with the big propeller
Be dropping off some fine young fellows,
To fight a mad, mad, war in tears
As anguished mothers face their fears.
And boys, some dying for leaders pride,
Be forced to thrust their souls aside.
The Romans march they off to war,
They're still with us and that's for sure.
The Gulf, Iraq and Vietnam
Does anybody give a damn???
About boys dying in the night,
And who be wrong and who be right.?
Arise, you song birds sing in morning dew;
The flow’ry host to colour fields and furrows,
And sap of Spring runs gold in willows veins;
As tender leaves unfold to speak of birth,
Fresh mountain ranges iced give life anew—
While waters melt and stream through cricks and borrows
The gleams of light will melt the winter strains
Though spills of oil have quenched the songs of earth.
The corporate sting of greedful revenue,
Has bankrupt natural wonders—greedy farrows
The eagle has no pow’r to save her eggs,
Tall forests fall and crush the robin’s hue
When flow’ry petals change to black on yellow—
The spotted fawns arise with warbled legs
"'Cause when your back's against the wall
That's when you show no fear at all
And when you're running out of time
That's when you hitch your star to mine
We won't be leaving by the same road that we came by"
~Keane - My Shadow Lyrics ~
There is no celestial place for you to guide my thoughts
Can you not see that I am free from you?
I am a black bird perched high in the treetops
You will hear my crowing and you may hate it
But my dear, you cannot take away my voice!
Yet still, as fire oppresses forests of life,
You can abuse my freedom to find your glory
You may discard these words for your love of gods,
And in so doing you may simply ignore
All the cries that I so passionately utter
But my infectious species will guide your mind straight back
To that once so lonely treetop where you merely glanced
And there will be multitudinous, oppressing thoughts
That shall enslave you and bind you unwillingly
The crows will only grow louder when you turn away—
When you pretend to ignore with your remaining, strangling pride
For my voice is a production sent from above
Dispatched to judge you pitilessly for your swelling lies!
And the choirs of ferocious beaks shall open forever
Harmony and dissonance as one
Not the material guy
I’m not the material guy
Ambitions were never for I
I’m always the one
That gets noting done
I’m a dreamer, I cannot deny.
My mind it is not very clever
My heart is as light as a feather
My manner is free
Like a bird in a tree
And I never will worry, not ever
Just like a river I’ll flow
And always my heart it will glow
I won’t push the river
So life does deliver
A feeling that each day does grow
Until the day that I die
I won’t let a day pass me by
Without looking at me
At within, what I be
As always I’ll ask ‘Who am I?’
18 September 2013 @1800hrs.
I once veered from the road less traveled
And gazed upon the minion sheep
Watching as they followed
Their mindless paths
My soul begin to weep
For the endless torture they had unraveled
Led by dictation
Fed on tribulation
Never once seeing
An open mind equals an open heart
I want to shout
I want to scream and shake them
As if waking them from a dream
And tell them to realize
The world around them is a lie
Not what they are programmed to see
But in this free will way of life
Nothing is as it seems
On an open road through the driving rain
She drove fast and deadly like a hurricane
Sad yellow stripes in between white lines
Covered cold dead flowers and some valentines
Her baby grows and her mother cries
A painful evelution right before their eyes
She left him bleeding as the future glowed
From a dying past down the open road
She fights the lions as she curse it all
The men the drugs and the alcohol
The radio dj makes it all look good
With songs about love and of motherhood
She saw her future going down the drain
Her baby's tears feeds her growing pain
A blade in the night and the bad blood flowed
Down in the gutter on the open road
A big black bird at the top of the shelves
Judging what they all did to themselves
With fingernails growing like a raven's claw
She will never see what the big bird saw
Like the drugs of the dying like a martyr's faith
There was light in the dark but no open gate
She hunted the keys to the secret code
As she watched him fade on the open road
Basking in moonlight,
Old birds remember the nest.
Ruffles my feathers.
From seas of green, to darkened woe
The winds do blow the grief
In Maelstrom's tide, to havens low
We waken death from sleep
Harkened to the evening star
The evil calls the foe
Into the tide of the Maelstrom
Into the deep below
Dark haven, cruel Raven
Where shall you then depart?
The whole ship has sunken
Into the whirlpool's heart
The moon will shine from up above
Till darkness ends the light
The moaning mist of deadened love
The sad, lost wings of flight
Demon waters drown the glee
Of all remaining hope
The gift to hear, the gift to see
Left us long ago
Dark haven, cruel Raven
Where shall you then depart?
The whole ship has sunken
Into the whirlpool's heart
Dark haven, cruel Raven!
Where shall you fall tonight?
The whole world is shaken
In Maelstrom's sick delight
-experimenting on this verse;
trying to make a four part
acapella...wish me luck!!
broken wing such loss
feathered flight impossible..
free bird heals in cage
This wild and woody garden
This wild and woody garden
Oh, how she pleases me
Her upkeep sometimes gets me down
This I did not foresee
I guess that now at seventy
I’m really slowing down
But if my trees should disappear
Then I would surely frown.
I created all of this
I knew just what to do
I planted every kind of shrub
And watch the growth come through
Now one can’t hardly move in it
But oh the energy
That seems to flow into my soul
From every kind of tree
The birds, they come to visit us
In every kind of hue
As the trees they dance upon the breeze
And me, I’ve naught to do
But sit here watching natures show
Me, and my little friend
Letting power sooth my soul
And bring angst to its end.
9 August 2013 @ 1826hrs.
Beating wings of gold,
To his breast they fold.
From the heights now descending,
Soaring on winds fair.
Joys of life declare
The skylark's songs unending.
In the meadow sweet,
Comes their call to greet
The new morning wet with dew.
Swaying on a reed,
Seeing my deep need
With my dreams away he flew....
A bird whose wing was broke
Fell from grace to the ground below
And hopped with a hobbled hop
To my window sill
Where I saw him try to fly,
His beating wings a fluttering
To lift him high and higher still
But back he fell a stuttering
Till at last he stopped and hopped again
To hide among the undergrowth
And as he hopped away
I feared he would not last the night
For birds that flew but cannot fly
Are doomed to die.
The joy of the pheasant shoot.
Getting set for the big event
The good folk do their stuff
They beat the earth with sticks, do they?
With their little dogs so tough
They flush those pheasants from the scrub
So all can have some fun
Killing them with smiling faces
As they fire beloved guns.
Then as the pheasants in a panic
They bolt into the sky
Our hero’s with their guns in hand
Make sure that hundreds die
As the air is filled with the cracking sounds
As birds fall all around
Just so these fools can get there jollies
These corpses cover ground.
I wonder sometimes if these hero’s
Have any souls at all
That they could get such satisfaction
Doing these acts so cruel
Sometimes it leaves me speechless
At the way folk get their pleasure
Killing beauty just for fun
Is an ugly kind of leisure.
10 September 2013 @ 1340hrs
He’s such a cocky little bird
Head held high, and chest puffed out
He struts around, my heart is stirred
There’s a kind of silence all about.
He’s green, and blue, and beautiful
Yellow ring around his throat
He don’t care that the weather’s cool
He has a lovely sheeny coat.
A crested pigeon comes to feed
But he’s not there for long
Our Parrot, he gets wild, indeed
His will so very strong
His hunger staved he sits in tree
And whistles softly just for me.
13 July 2014 @ 0336hrs.
The chook defense
Now I’m no vegetarian
Though I’d like that this could be
At seventy I’ll never change
So I’m just stuck with me
And I really love’s me chook
In every kind of way
But now I’m in the mood I’m in
I just have this to say…..
If we’re going to eat these chooks
Don’t we owe them some respect
We treat them like commodities
But what I might reflect
Is, if we treat these creatures thus
That God placed on this earth
Then we neglect our very souls
And too our own self worth.
Those birds are treated so damn mean
How can one understand
This cruelty, are we then humane?
It don’t look too damn grand
And where’s the goodness in a food
That’s never seen the sun
So when we treat these birds like this
What damage have we done?
That chicken flue was scary, once
But who knows much at all
About the karma that can come
From things, unnatural.
It’s time for changes in this world
When dosh is not the ‘all’
And then humane might be a word
That’s truly wonderful
10 July 2013 @ 1301hrs.
I sit -looking at the river gracefully bending
Flowing smoothly over moss covered rocks and stones
Measuring in endless time -my life
My loves, my losses
Posing my thoughts with unspoken words
Just me and the river...
Sitting all alone
I cry- my whetted, salty tears
Like the river weeping her warm liquid waves
Showering the earth with her promising shades of life
Breathing her liquid grace over all the lands she saves?
I could not save us
My hungry heart hides my tears as I breathe in your image
Calling your name -whispering our story
And all the tender moments
Of our once remembered glory
With my thoughts softly weaving their dreams
I trace the memories of the sweetest fruit from the vine
Painting vivid pictures of warm candlelight and roses
That turned into a sad, bitter tasting wine
My grieving spirit hides the breeze that softly blows
Whispering in its low, hushed voice
My sad, lonely story…
That only I and the river know
Hiding my shattered heart
With a broken wing