Put Away

Well, wherever my muse has been, she’s decided to pay me a fleeting visit this evening, and this is the result. I hope you like it.

I’ll pack away these tears of mine
In box of silk-lined oak,
And when I think of love we had
They’ll speak of heart that broke.

I’ll hide away these dreams of mine
In chest of aged wood,
For only dreams kept safe for me
Will stand where passion stood.

I’ll put away these words of mine
In pages writ with blood,
They could not sway your iron mind
Nor stem the rising flood.

I’ll lock away my secret want
With chain of silver sheen,
And in my darkened thoughts of you
Perchance they’ll set to gleam.

I’ll turn away, dear, from your light
From all I want and need,
Forever now to be bereft
My heart to fade and bleed.

Frightening World

Faithful readers…
This is a rather strange one. I’m not sure if it works, but I’m following advice given a long time ago to publish without thought. Maybe it’s a mistake. But that’s how we learn. Let me know your thoughts. Thank you.

Within this mind
Of shadowed halls and
Whispered tones,
There are such forms
And images
I have not the wit to show.

It troubles me
This lack of skill and
Missing verve,
For how can I
Reveal to thee
This inner frightening world?

To be so skilled
With brushes, oils and
Startling ink,
Would give to me
Such sweet release
And blessed freedom to think.

But as I am
With language held
And scribbled words,
I do my all
To write about
This inner frightening world.


To close my eyes
And see the stars
With night so laid
Before me;
I could not ask
For more than this
While laying here
In glory.

The thickness of
A passing dream
The space between
A heartbeat;
The length of time
From now to then
That makes the night
So complete.

To taste the moon
On lips of blood
And touch the skin
Of beauty;
To gaze in awe
At heavens form
Displayed in you
Before me.

Who knew a night
Could offer so
The chance of sweet
I give my all
And so succumb
To your revealed

Reblog : The Beekeeper Approaches

It’s been a few days since I had the time to write anything new, and so here’s another reblog. It’s different to my normal love / evil posts. I have no idea where the idea came from, but this is one of the ones I’m pleased with. And it’s got the word ‘twixt’ in it! Hope you like it.

The beekeeper approaches
in mind controlling all,
his bees in multitude did swarm
‘twixt hive and garden wall.
With smoke of scented poison
he caused a rushing swirl,
the bees in panic flew around
with tiny wings a-whirl.
Like blackened snow in blizzard struck
their bodies flew about,
the beekeeper in canvas suit
stood resolute and stout.
With angry buzz and wicked barb
defensively they flew,
but the beekeepers protective cloth
would not let stingers through.
What allegory could be struck
through images herein,
with beekeeper and honeyed hive
and swarming bees within?

A Source Of Wonder

These images in maelstrom spun
that strangely coalesce,
resolve themselves to fantasy,
a world of more or less.

A mannequin with beating heart,
a box with worlds within,
a painting of a hollow man
who cries through wicked grin.

A lonely beach with single man
that stares as ocean blazes,
a parchment map that shows the way
to crystal mirrored mazes.

In just a single moment all these
images will conjure,
to show to all the mind of man
is such a source of wonder.

Treasures In Mind : A Reading

Well. I have been truly honored this week, as the exceptionally talented Fibee5 decided she’d like to record not one, but TWO of my poems. The second one is a reading of my poem Treasures In Mind and once again she has graced my words with her wonderful delivery. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. And please, take a moment to peruse her blog, you won’t be disappointed. Thank you.

Treasures In Mind

Reach down deep
with hands in shade,
in to the place
where dreams are made.
Return to me
that which you find,
these hidden treasures
kept in mind.
I open all
I am to you,
to take and use
just like you do.
But begrudge not
these treasures found,
in shadowed hands
that so abound.
For without you
my mind is dark,
with nought but dust
from withered heart.