[x]

Under a Witches SkyAnd lo there he said: "I am darkness rising"
— ‘an apparition bleeding into a dreaming sky
Distilled in the timbre of windswept voices,
black feathers enchant earth in fevered-song
Magick ebbs & shimmers thru earthen veins,
seething like a migration of hungry wolves
Silvery eyes peer, drinking the ether of souls;
watching the spirit world fold into the mists
And where Shadows and Witches conjure,
— myriad talons beshrew Winter’s prayer

For eons I hath wandered in forgotten lore
— a sleep walker thru ash & fire, hunting ..
Beneath Moon solemn and drifting,
I covet thy ghostly figure velvet, undressing
Pools of

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

SpeakeasyI can feel you like a phantom,
sensation without touch,
like breath in winter
or a misty mountain morning
that stays with me
until the stars fall in evening.

Your eyes contain the secrets
your lips would dare to betray,
but your body tells the story
and I am trying
to read between the lines
of your paperback smiles.

A grazing touch, a covert glance,
the memories remain
as skin grows warm and red
beneath lying fingertips
that claim incidental contact
a thousand times a day.

Of course,
it's not the kind of thing we say
when we are speaking
without talking and feeling
without touching
and thinking without knowing...

all of the things

Dandelion QueenI dream of the ocean;
that paper-thin line where
the current swallows the stars
and the water churns violet

(you tell me to be
quiet,

dandelion queen, we've
heard all these words before)

tonight
I will sleep heavy
and wake a few hours before dawn,
only to forget my name

my wave-weathered heart will cry,
I will cry (my biggest fear
is drowning in too many
of my own weighted words

you tell me to be
quiet
so I can hear the world breathe)

I want to go home

Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.

WindowsHere am I, repeated,
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.

I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze

like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.

Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;

safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.

We Can't Be Together.Every kiss you plant on my lips,
Takes a little bit of my soul away.

You're stealing the passion,
You're invading my heart,
And killing what emotion I've left untouched.
Stop this.
I can't love you.

I've tried to before,
Oh my god,
Have I tried.

Tried to unlock the doors to myself,
Tried to open up,
And let you in.
But as soon as I took one look,
Negativity took it's opportunity,
And struck the hot iron I'd been molding.

Every word you mutter
My knees falter under
You're killing me

You're my kryptonite
I'm your paradise
But in this odd peace that seems to be approaching
I can't find happiness.

We aren't meant to be together
But this

Poet as PainterThe world
Your dusty palette,
The pen
Your muddied paintbrush:

Dip into
The impossible
Colour
Of imagination

And stain
The pristine slate
With an
Image distilled.

BoyfriendI thought you were good.

You WERE good.

You played with my hair.

You held me when I cried.

You were a gentleman.

You made me laugh.

You kissed me.

You loved me.

I loved you.

It was then that I learned the truth.

The dirty, rotten, stinking truth.

About you!

You cheated.

You played with her hair.

You kissed her.

You loved her.

You made her laugh.

I saw you – don’t you dare deny it.

I saw you giving her that love.

That same love you gave me.

I break up with you.

You don’t even seem to care.

Did you ever love me at all?

Or was it only ever her?

Much later, you’ll realize what a mistake you made.

I

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.

Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high

above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.

I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devo

untitledGold abundant at your feet,
Heart ripe and pumping on your sleeve,
And eternal admiration;
To say happiness has evaded you
Would be asylum-esque lunacy
For you have nothing to lose,
Fate is on your side,
The odds are in your favor infinitely
Do not waste the gift you’ve received

You Don't Know ItYou don't know it, but you kept me sane
I nearly went over the edge
With a knife in one hand and a gun in the other
But you grabbed me
Pulled me back on my own two feet
Emptied my hands
And when you realized that I couldn't stand on my own
You hugged me
Like a mother would do for her child
Like a friend would do for, dare I say, another friend

You don't know it, but when you saved me
I felt free
I felt wanted
I felt needed
I felt, dare I say, loved

You don't know it, but when you showed me kindness
I fell in love
In love with your kindness
That same sweet kindness you saved me with
It felt like I found a new home
One that I could be, dare

Pull Her Hair/Stare At The StarsThe ghosts have crashed their ship
on the other side of town,
you can see it from the second floor
all the way over here.
You can see the white clouds
rising from the wreck
and a nova of heat, a big bright
nova of warmth pulling the moths and wolves
out from the woods (with their noses up and searching).
You can smell the yearning like bees
leaving the hive, like the grizzly brown bears
on the jagged white mountains (concrete and imposing).
They call it fear,
but I see these ghosts
scrambling up into the sky
and I like to think it's
something different entirely.

clicheTo those who hold bird bones
on the edge of their limbs,
there are dissipated lungs
filled with skies
longing for pillars of fire
rather than bottled souls
kept in the brink of captivity
too big for sparrows.

To those with the cancer
of building and rebuilding
their minute sentences
into salt-shaken metaphors,
sometimes a whisper
trying to be a rhapsody
will never be the same as
a declaration,
an aubade on it's own.

To those who empty
their ash trays
like cremated dust onto
salivating pores and
two cents of syllables weeping
by your windowsill,
there's sand in your mouth.
sand so red that oxygen
will mistake it for blood
so your words wi

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RestlessShe cannot sleep for fear of dreams
That haunt her tired heavy head

So lies awake and tangles sheets
Locked in her prison of a bed

The thoughts that whirl behind her eyes
Scare her to death (or so it's said)

Each failed hope leaves her fragile mind
Full to the brim with senseless dread

Ghostly whispers force her to walk
The same old paths she'd always tread

Closing eyes rubbed red and raw
She waits in vain for limbs of lead

As the curtain falls on her eerie stage
Of dreams that haunt her restless head

Sleepless VillanelleWhen trouble slumbers I lie awake
In the teasing patterns of a dreamlike mist
And I search for the start of my fatal mistake

WIth red-rimmed eyes I yearn to break
The imposing walls of the moonlight-kissed
When trouble slumbers I lie awake

My bones clench and instinctively shake
My shoulders hunch as my thoughts slowly twist
And I search for the start of my fatal mistake

I cry a river through a frozen lake
Fingernails bite in a white-knuckled fist
When trouble slumbers I lie awake

Trying to live through an eternal ache
With dizzying doubts of a snow-pale wrist
And I search for the start of my fatal mistake

I spread my wings for

Washington HeartbeatsThe face at the starting line at last turns towards my own, and I will my hands to refrain from clenching with my stomach. I nod slightly in confirmation; I can go now (do I have to?), I am ready (will I fail?).
The leather reins are stiff and rough in my shaking grasp, the horse beneath me suddenly a stranger as he dances from side to side, and I hold my breath in anticipation.
I glance once more towards the timer. My mouth asks if I may start, my eyes plead for rescue from imminent terror. The answering affirmation forces me to at last look up, past the blurred white poles, past the haphazardly scattered clumps of horses, to the somehow c

UndeniableYou feel what you feel, and nothing can change that.

Say you're afraid. Afraid of things that will come, and more afraid of things that have passed. Arms might comfort, words might soothe, one foot will always go in front of the other, but you will still be afraid.

Say you're unhappy. Your lips might smile, you might force your eyes to gaze up and out instead of down, the sun might be shining, the sky might be blue, but you will still be unhappy.

Say you're in pain. Undeniable, crippling pain. Your hands might be held steady, your scars might fade, time will undoubtedly pass, but you will still be in pain.

Say you're in love. It might sca

CagedOne bar is loneliness, two bars are strife

Three bars are the twisted pull of a clean cold knife

Four bars bend with the forced attempts of hope

Five bars offer five impulsive ways to cope

Six bars shudder with the weight of the world

Seven bars shine the light of broken dreams unfurled

Eight bars murmur I pray the Lord my soul to take

Nine bars scream the thoughts behind each mistake

The shivering wraith in the shadows makes ten

As every bar longs for the suffering to end

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Cliff

by ~Blue-Notebook, Jul 26, 2010, 8:36:03 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Flat slabs make perfect grips.
Sharp points make perfect steps.

They tell you not to look down,
And that's exactly why you do.

It looks like a clean, easy drop.
You can feel the air rushing through you,
The rocks rising to meet you in a smooth, soft caress.

Your hands loosen,
And you wonder what it's like.
Blank.
Calm.
Free?

You feel nothing,
And so you feel everything.

Steady now, count the heartbeats.
One.
Two.
Three.

Release.

Cliffby ~Blue-Notebook

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Critique is always appreciated.

~qiuyingquan Aug 4, 2010

It really feels as though I'm there. Great work!

~Blue-Notebook Aug 4, 2010

Thank you!

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Cliff

Cliffby ~Blue-Notebook

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