Saturday, April 30, 2011

Poem: Nothing Special

Nothing Special (As father did)

Soon she came to realize
That s/he was nothing special.
All the words were but a guise
They were, nothing special.

She gave a heart
Now left with a w/hole?
Was it all for naught?
Was it, nothing special?

“They” did tell her she deserved better
But she listened with only half an ear
And none a heart.
Because she thought, s/he was
Something special.

But alas, it soon came to past.
It became plain to see
That she, to he
Was nothing special.

So she swallowed the hurt. Put up the pride
Wall, behind which to hide.
And to every man will be done,
As father did.

They will all be, nothing more to she…
Nothing more, than nothing special.

© 2011 (ad infinitum)  

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Poem: Bittersweet

Just out of reach,
Of your hands.
The goal to grasp
A dream to clasp
Slip away like sand
From the palm of a hand.

Like loves defeat.
Sweet surrender
With no happy end-ing
Temptation pend-ing.
Put play on pause
With no forward or rewind,
Sunlight is beautiful yet blind-ing.

And here we meet.
In the middle of our lives
No choice but to compromise
Walk along these
Dark, desolate streets.
Chill wind at back
Full moon above
Rock away the world to sleep
Rock a good bye to love.

And at this beginning of the end
Bid goodbye a lover, greet a friend.
All but memory is lost
And what else that remains is

©2006 & ©2011 (ad infinitum)

Poem: Beautiful/Deadly

       The Scorpion stings
Its nature true.
As is the cobra
Bared fangs, no lying to you.

But Rose,
In all his beauty
Hides his weapons

Misconceptions and deceptions
All part of the Crying Game
As this Rose hides his true intentions
Thorny secrets tear and maim.

Hearts and hands left bleeding by his lies
While deadly beauty shines in the sun
And behind the closed doors of night?
Well, roses die with their weapons.

©2002 & ©2011 (ad infinitum)  

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Poem: Of me. Of you. (Of us?)

Of me. Of you. (of us?)

The silence deafens.
Yet it speaks in volumes I can (still) hear
Loud and Clear.

Across the distance, I felt the retreat
It's been over a week. But I still cast my eyes
on to the recent past,
(though I know thine own eyes look back much further)

We may never meet (at least not yet).
But we have met.
In this "aether" net.

Doing this (forbidden?) dance, between "Pokes" and "Poetry".

I remember of meeting you in that dark shadow-y realm
Of when I listened to your darkness (mouth to ear in this medium)

Yes it is stark!
It is glaring!

But can't you see?
It has not corrupted me.
(Things you think I cannot bare. I have borne.
Even before I was born.)

This girl you've gotten to know
This woman you let in. Let be your friend
is as tough, as she is tender.

Age is but a number my friend
(as are vices, just 'dealing devices')
But I understand your angle
Your aim maybe to keep me at bay?
Make me see a light of day
and not be consumed by your own dark shadows?

I am not seeking to be your sonlight nor your saviour.
Just a friend, who can bend, without breaking.
(and yes, call me crazy 'cause I care, I don't care)

Though born bearing a name of "light"
This jeune femme too was born of night.
Albeit not close to as dark as ones own.
Darkness she has known.

Yes I live in the present
Yet I too, do reflect on the past
I know not what the future holds
But I always try to live in hope.

There may be, no you nor me
But is this as far as we can see?

Written or spoken, words are words,
But 'more than words' now there's the rub.

It was a meeting of minds that defied the distance "literarily"

But now, one mind is looking back in sadness? in melancholy?

While the other is staying steadfast until he, 'works his way back' to she.

"Those were the days."
  Were they?"

I say, Nay!

But rather, que sera, sera.

Come. What. May.

To: The Lion Hearted One

From: The Daughter of the Sun

© 2011 (ad infinitum)