Post by Ace on Oct 28, 2009 12:19:47 GMT -10
I am a galley slave to pen and ink.
Honore de Balzac (1799 - 1850)
I may not use pen and ink right now, but I have some poems for you... well first to me and then to you. You might have read these some time ago or not that long ago. But I am going to put them here for you to enjoy. I will probably write some more or maybe I won't who knows. Muses are fickle friends.
Poem 1
Every morning was hard,
everyday were like a hell on earth,
the evenings worse still,
but nothing could compete with the night.
Long hours in the darkness,
a tortured soul alone.
Ghost of the past lurking in the shadows
never giving him peace.
Images in his head of a time
he was loved
of a time
he loved.
But nights pass
making way to a new morn.
Opening the gates of Hades
that were never closed anyway.
But he could not give up
he had sworn to protect.
A tired guardian
standing alone against
the tides of time and crime.
poem 2
Three seconds,
it's a blink of an eye,
or a lifetime
depending on
from which side are you looking.
It took three seconds
to decide to go in.
It took three seconds to realize
that it was a mortal mistake.
It takes three seconds
to see his life go by,
three seconds can be a lifetime
of memories
of pain
of love.
It takes three seconds
to die.
Metamorphosis
I feel myself to change
My arms are getting longer
my fingers thinner.
Ears are growin' pointed
I feel growin' taller.
Suddenly the pain
ends.
It stops and my breath
is ragged.
Then I calm down.
I feel strong.
I hear the call of the woods.
My metamorphosis is complete.
4.6.2004
Whispers of lust
You whisper into my ear,
but I can't hear you.
I scream.
You hurt me, just to hear
me scream.
You came to me,
whispering of lust,
you felt towards me.
You've done it before.
Always whisperin' of lust.
You stop,
stop hurting me.
The whispers never cease.
Still you whisper into my ear,
it's oddly soothing, calming,
yet, still they are
just whispers of lust.
28.6.2004
Mirror-image
Mirror, surface that reflects,
reflects the truth
the secrets,
without mercy.
Two dead dots
staring back,
unblinking
accusing.
You are the one to blame,
You drove us to this emptiness
without mercy.
Now it's too late.
Torn
The Sea takes us home,
guiding us to love's evergreen dome.
Soon we will meet on the shore
those that sailed before.
Love and longing will live long
forever will they stay strong.
Divided between the love for mother
and the love for daughter.
Forever will I be torn,
ever since her love was born.
Always will my heart be frail
for Undómiel did not sail.
Honore de Balzac (1799 - 1850)
I may not use pen and ink right now, but I have some poems for you... well first to me and then to you. You might have read these some time ago or not that long ago. But I am going to put them here for you to enjoy. I will probably write some more or maybe I won't who knows. Muses are fickle friends.
Poem 1
Every morning was hard,
everyday were like a hell on earth,
the evenings worse still,
but nothing could compete with the night.
Long hours in the darkness,
a tortured soul alone.
Ghost of the past lurking in the shadows
never giving him peace.
Images in his head of a time
he was loved
of a time
he loved.
But nights pass
making way to a new morn.
Opening the gates of Hades
that were never closed anyway.
But he could not give up
he had sworn to protect.
A tired guardian
standing alone against
the tides of time and crime.
poem 2
Three seconds,
it's a blink of an eye,
or a lifetime
depending on
from which side are you looking.
It took three seconds
to decide to go in.
It took three seconds to realize
that it was a mortal mistake.
It takes three seconds
to see his life go by,
three seconds can be a lifetime
of memories
of pain
of love.
It takes three seconds
to die.
Metamorphosis
I feel myself to change
My arms are getting longer
my fingers thinner.
Ears are growin' pointed
I feel growin' taller.
Suddenly the pain
ends.
It stops and my breath
is ragged.
Then I calm down.
I feel strong.
I hear the call of the woods.
My metamorphosis is complete.
4.6.2004
Whispers of lust
You whisper into my ear,
but I can't hear you.
I scream.
You hurt me, just to hear
me scream.
You came to me,
whispering of lust,
you felt towards me.
You've done it before.
Always whisperin' of lust.
You stop,
stop hurting me.
The whispers never cease.
Still you whisper into my ear,
it's oddly soothing, calming,
yet, still they are
just whispers of lust.
28.6.2004
Mirror-image
Mirror, surface that reflects,
reflects the truth
the secrets,
without mercy.
Two dead dots
staring back,
unblinking
accusing.
You are the one to blame,
You drove us to this emptiness
without mercy.
Now it's too late.
Torn
The Sea takes us home,
guiding us to love's evergreen dome.
Soon we will meet on the shore
those that sailed before.
Love and longing will live long
forever will they stay strong.
Divided between the love for mother
and the love for daughter.
Forever will I be torn,
ever since her love was born.
Always will my heart be frail
for Undómiel did not sail.