DP : Fearful Symmetry

I wrote this in response to the Daily Prompt:
“Pick a letter, any letter. Now, write a story, poem, or post in which every line starts with that letter.”
You can guess which letter I chose.

Wistful thoughts that fly away,

Where they go we cannot say,

Wishful thinking shades the morn,

Waiting where the love is born,

Why do hearts so heavy lie,

When a truth glints in the eye?

Who can say, it’s plain to see,

Woman I belong to thee.



It’s been a long time (or so it feels) since I posted something new, and at last inspiration has paid me a visit. This was written over a few hours here and there today, during quiet moments at work. I hope you like it.

While lost among the wond’ring drones,
A thousand miles away from home,
I spied a heart amongst the litter,
Scarred and bruised, coldly bitter.

It spoke to me with every beat,
In language old and sweetly cheap,
And though it’s skin was harshly battered,
Within my eyes ’twas all that mattered.

With gentle hands I rescued such,
And though ’twas warm did not weigh much,
Where were the pains that caused such anguish,
The hurts that caused this heart to languish?

I placed this heart in em’rald case,
Wrapped in cloth of ancient lace,
I then set out on trip returning,
Desire to find you hotly burning.

I found you there in friendly lands,
You took the case from giving hands,
“My darling you are sore mistaken,
This is not my heart cruelly taken”.

“My heart was lost when we first met,
And it is not recovered yet”,
So hand in hand I took you wand’ring,
The truth of love forever pondering.

The Crows Are Flying Again

Another one that started with the title / final line of each verse, and formed itself around them. I hope you like this one.

Beyond the hills there is a tree,
A bough thats grown for death,
The fraying rope of hangman’s noose
Steals my final breath;
If eyes are cast up to the sky,
Where on their way clouds wend,
You’ll see the watchers on the wing,
The crows are flying again.

Behind the church an endless pit,
A hole to lay my bones,
Enclosing earth to bury me
No chance left to atone,
If ears are tuned to laughing caw,
The silence it forfends,
You’ll hear the feathered judges sing,
The crows are flying again.

Beneath the ground there is a fire,
Eternally it burns,
No more for me the living air,
My world no longer turns.
In cruel lament the ringing cries
Confirm my coming end,
My final thought as long I sleep,
The crows are flying again.

For Five Years I Had Roses

I’ve had the title of this one in my mind for a long time. Just that one single line. I’ve finally managed to work it into a whole piece. I hope you like it.

Now comes the end of what we had,
Betrayal in every form,
Mistaking love for brutal lust,
Ignoring signs that warn;
This chapter of my storied life,
Regrets now as it closes,
But I will always fond recall,
For five years I had roses.

The words that hurt were said with glee,
Control in every thought,
Promising care and honour true,
Revealing all when caught;
I doubt myself and what I knew,
The questions that this poses,
But I will always tell myself,
For five years I had roses.

And now I must make strong my stand,
No more look back and mourn,
I’ve taken hits to heart and soul,
My inner beauty torn;
To once again turn to the light,
And love all it exposes,
But ’til the end I’ll always know,
For five years I had roses.

Reblog : Welcome Rage

Reblogging this to take part it todays Daily Prompt – “Tell us about a time when you flew into a rage. What is it that made you so incredibly angry?”

With scowling brow and clenching jaw
I welcome back this rage once more.
It’s been too long since anger flowed,
with inner feelings truly showed.
Pounding bass and guitar wail
enforces heat and without fail
will cause the eyes to burn in hate
and free the mouth to denigrate.

A blackened cloud that fogs the air
and causes deep and vicious stare.
Throbbing blood through veins within
cause aching muscles, flushing skin.
Conjuring an inner scream
that in it’s heat would challenge steam
in burning form and stinging wrath
and join me on this darkly path.

Maybe I should not be pleased
when anger hits at times like these.
Maybe I should concentrate
on losing rage, rejecting hate.
But sometimes life in cruelness black
will test my strength and so attack
and all that frees me from it’s cage
is hot embrace of welcome rage.

Soul To Keep

This one came to me in a heartbeat. I was sat mulling over my creative process and wanting to post something new, when the first line arrived as if by telepathy from some where unknown. Anyway – I hope you like it, short though it is.

A feathered breath that wakes me
From this dark and dreadful sleep,
Where hands of cold and mouldy bones
Hold hard my soul to keep;
To drag me from my nightmare
With such a sweetened kiss,
My demons fail their wicked task
They cannot stand such bliss;
The rising dawn that greets me
With its sun that paints the air,
Cannot but pale when as I wake
Your eyes in light are there;
“Fear not my love”, you tell me
As my heart resumes its beat,
“I will not let the demons win
Your soul they’ll never keep”.

I Can See The Moon

It’s been a while since a new post has been put up here, but tonight the title of this one came to me, and the images herein flowed from that one sentence. I hope you like it.

My time it soft draws to a close,
Eternal night now blooms.
But with my final breath exhaled,
I can see the moon.

This constant friend, above my head,
My life with light consumed,
As mortal coil slips from my grasp,
I can see the moon.

A peaceful globe that hovers near,
In effortless remove,
My heart is calmed by glowing light,
I can see the moon.

The shade it falls now, shallow breath,
My soul will leave too soon,
I do not fear the coming dark,
I can see the moon.

Behind these eyes, now shut to pain,
I see the endless gloom,
Yet into death I calmly walk,
For I can see the moon.