When the existential magic disappears
And life holds nothing more than
my terrestrial tears and frivolous fears
When feeding my mind is no longer empirical
Or essential, as human hunger suffices,
when I no longer thirst, and eminence gives no rise,
and sullen shibumi canopies worn and torn
shade not the arid and hot desert, once the lofty
snow summits forthwith cloaked in thawing toxins
Or the ruby rose that does not scent me, reminiscently
as its thorns prick crimson numbness
Tasteless is the blood from this warrior’s sword
And Lords with rattles of snakes poison less
Horns no longer adorn me, my ashes freed
I’ve heard of a hall of the slain,
where dead heroes reign
When our world gives way to the next
Where golden shields a palatial fortress
Take one more fallen warrioress,
to other realms, plush, pristine, called
Valhalla, an afterglow
Categories:
reminiscently, fantasy,
Form: Free verse
Winter’s Whisperers
The cardinal returns
memories of cold chill
drawing him back.
A whisper teasing his DNA,
the call of the woodpecker’s drum
reminiscently echoing
in a winter’s past.
Sitting on the rusted chain link
he wonders.
9/23/2016
submitted to – CONTEST NO 210
sponsor – Brian Strand
Categories:
reminiscently, october, relationship, sometimes,
Form: Free verse
Alone I would sit and quietly watch from afar
the little girl whom nobody knew
who was constantly in awe of a twinkling star
and forever questioned whether the sky was black or blue.
Her childlike innocence bore an unoccupied charm
to which boys would flock to entertain
on the outside she appeared cool and calm
but inside she felt great disdain.
Her eyes glistened like pools of emotion
staring reminiscently; memories in her mind
trying hard to control the reflection
but the words echoed cruel to be kind.
One smile would clear the thundering sky
one laugh warm the coldest day
but her head sank low and she began to cry
the pain she felt, too much to say.
Making excuses she quietly departs
as the faces turn to stare
she goes in search for her once lost heart
like an antique the best are always rare.
Categories:
reminiscently, life, loss, lost love,
Form: I do not know?