Cries of a Banshee

Lest her gaze gone made more for fire,
Her eyes glowing before the bitter sea,
The angst felt can be felt all around,
An entire Earth that shatters before her,
Anger so fast, so intense could never fall,
All fairness lost and all virtue a history,
Across the sea a banshee stood at watch.

And in the night she walks along the coast,
And as moon her witness can only hide,
Whose once pale skin now would rot so slow,
An entire foundation of her grew and spored,
Fallen was her resolve to reason and seek,
Nor sought, nor fought, but now she resolves:
Haunting, she’s the banshee from the dark.

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Behind the Mirror

Or was it a dream that never fought,
Or better yet this image she sought,
A beauty that cast herself into awe,
A longing for eyes transfixed she bore,
Glittered by single light phone emitted,
The girl in the mirror he fitted,
There was a girl walking away from here,
But my girl is not who she ought to fear,
Am not no monster that would break her,
Rather the destruction that bade me fair,
I’d rather walk round the mirror than through,
Would rather my love appear before I do, Read More

At the airport

A beating sun once rose but would hardly set,
Her time was sounding, the car could only sail,
This heart that marches through the way,
Never back but soon the two they were and back,
Whose heart he can never break and never sour,
Whose glowing eyes that reaped in tears a sea,
The slowing heart that beats the rest comes tide,
For within a fortnight as much a blooming flower,
This slow stem held heart by wreathes fragile,
That hue which we call love once foretold,
With every step to the gateway another bled,
For sighs alone can never conjure the broken weep,
Though silent but heavy a beat so echoes aloud,
How speedy the hours fall as much theirs grow, Read More

A little song

But pity is I who cannot sing,
Can only do depth alack my feel,
Is but the softening my voice said,
Is but a soothing dare to sing,
How shall I if not for words to say?
I would learn but my heart in angst,
Surely I am sighing my words in water,
There’s brew to be had; tis only hot,
Give me the rhyme to sing my days by,
My nights troublesome; my days gone,
I’ll wander through the dark whistling,
There’s but a whistle in my thinking,
There’s but a thought to sing daily,
My dear, whose voice only cracks at mine,
Is no voice more soothing than thine heard,
Ne not she sing for how her eyes wander,
No need but I am gazing at ye my wish content,
No need for songs for only actions wrought,
But words, only words is me to contend.

No bass to play

And then he’s in the room darkest and touched,
No song to squeeze, no rhyme to please,
As happened was the story mighty a man he launched,
Was there a splendid creation than the love between,
So sombre yet so sweet only for heaven to envy,
A blisséd sky, a beautiful sky, red and the moon narrow,
The gustle of that wind drew away. He thought loud and knew himself well.
Then awoke to find no melody to hear, no string to tune,
There was no bass to play down here,
A world up there, more tunes aloud,
Give me peace and I’ll give only love.

Virtue lost

I tell you my Lady but I am no better Saint,
Days to let you know that once so easy and free had become one, two and three,
A lesser heart crushes another,
A soft breeze crushes the stronger one to sea,
But how I come to you was no better,
Though how to sit and watch the fires part as I char through the anguish that becomes of it,
One lover bears another and explains his weight is twice the heart that pumps your blood,
Our follies are one, our pities so small,
The very breath I breathe only as acid could ever kill,
Bond with me here I said yet no task so nigh,
By the end he would sire more suns to glorify you than
YOU to bear his sons to fire him,
A past so meagre and foolish was one so black no eyes be seen,
But I’ll remember the night so long ago,
The man I was and could never be thus,
Then he’ll wander again through the site upon which he declared:
My fair Lady, here was new life to be made.

Nor silent is but that with no noise to recommend.

Short of her breath was an erstwhile walk,
Shall she seek far the sun that hence brought,
She is singing through the whispers of thousand,
I am broken, my voice is; voice is, voice gone,
And my little ears can only hear so loud,
She is singing away, alas my voice cannot respond;
Though silent is my head as much noise my heart aches,
So drops the chalice of my tears into dark,
Alas, she can only walk for all a thousand,
She’s following the road to see herself,
She sees, then she sees, above all; she sees,
There was one tree that she encircled so casual,
But vain attempt that ere would never ere be guile,
Is her pursuit of myself so loving, so dangerous;
Would she confront the most darkened man alive?
I am sweet; I am strong; my tears fall; my heart aches,
Tis not my nature to esteem; I shall rest till then,
Who walks away without seeing me part for naught,
Betrays me here, sees me banished and rejoins,
A sight besought, a voice bespoke, a noisy love:
No moment does not pass without neither of us silent.