Take the Risk

Take the risk to love the unlovable,
This will make you most noble.
Take the chance they'll break you down,
And you will win Honor's crown.
But no one talks about how it hurts,
And the endless struggle, that's the worst.

 

I Once Told a Story

I once told a story,
And somebody listened.
It was a tale from old days.
And I, being old, told it.
Some old stories,
Can only be told by old people.
And sometimes young ears,
Never hear other people's thoughts.
I remember those days,
As if I still lived them.
It is almost as if I were young,
Writing about being old.
What makes us old,
Except being told it?
Maybe being old lets me,
Tell the old stories.
But I rather be the young,
Person not listening to me.

Sea Man

The salt air slowly dug pock holes,
In the old sailors cheeks.
He made his home in water knolls,
Instead of earthy peaks.

And although the seas were his home,
Its tempest heart could be.
Twisted and sharp as a sea holm,
Like the price to be free.

Some Self

She breathed out a sigh, content.
After all the tired,
Attempts to make amends with her,
Own self at once expired.

She could finally find some peace.
After all the self hate,
She may have forgot how to love,
Her own self and own fate.

So many lies had been chasing,
Her life for oh so long,
That she had begun to believe,
She was not someone strong.

Sometimes the longest of journeys,
Are those only taken,
Within our minds and our hearts,
Which ourselves awaken.

I was not Speaking

I was not speaking.
No, I didn't say a word.
I hardly ever do.
You must have heard,
A ghost, or your own breath.
Whatever you heard,
I was silent the whole while.
Just keeping my words,
where they belong, with myself.

Slipping on an ice patch can be
a lightening experience

Tree Talks

Well, says the tree, I'm waiting dear Sun.
I've gone naked from leaves and snow,
Yet you won't let the spring come.
I stand contented because I know,
Spring will come a just as it has before.
But why not now, already?
I let the wandering eyes bore in my bark,
And feel the shame of unready clothing.

To be Noble

To be noble
And smile at fear
In a global
Call to be near

For noble hearts
Beat vain intents
And our small parts
Small continents

Make peace in graves
If none listen
While Obtuse's rave
In division

Maybe we lost
Nobility
Before we sought
Civility

Master Night

The stars hang over the moor,
Like fairies at Heaven's door.
Casting their light on earth's floor.

By these men navigate seas,
and monsters do as they please.
Hiding in shambolic leaves.

What mysteries unfold here,
The legends of old so near.
The land feels the holy fear,

That Night were to be master,
A magician type caster,
Or the waif's form of pastor.

Molding land and stars like clay,
To desecrate the good day,
And teach the world It's own way.

The moors are thus affected,
and by the Night protected,
Through the stars It collected.

Four Short Descriptions of Deer

1.                                             2.

Standing in the snow                  Not all of us are born
        Black eyes                               To wear crowns
Golden Noble frame                   But God chose some to

3.                                            4.

     Contraction of muscle           The curve along their neck
               the run                             The power in their eyes
streaks of brown through air       Look as they bow for honor

Four Short Descriptions of Night

1.                                                      2.

Why Fear Night when                        The moon searches the woods
    She is lit by stars                               With milk beams nourishing
The jewels of her tears                             Young shadows as it rises

3.                                                       4.

Night embraces ancient stone              The sky rests on the floor
        Once home to man                          The crystals of clouds
Now home to moon and shadows        Capturing the moon within

Four Short Descriptions of Forests

1.                                           2.

The Cathedral of land                               Light Caresses the
      Is the trees in                                 Flower fields between
The quiet forest passes             Sentinel trees of aged woods

3.                                           4.

If mountains speak it                  A halo falls on the fragile
    Is in the whisper                           floor of a darkened
Of their creaking pines            wood somewhere far from here

Four Short Descriptions of Flowers

1.                                                        2.

   Red petals in red fields                     They hide while wishing
      with brown eyes                                      To be seen
   where a child kneels                          Dressed in blue and green


3.                                                       4.

   She drank the color                           The bells ring on Sunday
          into her soft skin like                          In rows of blue   
   sunrise above her stem                      By the stones of once lived

In Time

She knelt in the stream by Galhae.
She had managed to slip away.

The town had stifled the good air.
With the craze of the newest fair.

Simplicity was preferred,
Though tradition had deterred.

A lady should not get mucked.
Nor, by her hand crayfish plucked.

She should look fine for boys,
And take to only quiet joys.

If a lady acted like men,
Whoever would want her then?

Time could change such harsh opinions,
Even in a votile dominion.

But she knelt there so long ago.
So, sad glances were her sorrow.

Running Smooth

I was looking for time to run smoothly.
For, well oiled clocks are things of beauty.
But, we can't always get what is wanted.
And, despite it all must move undaunted.
I suppose that there could be stranger things,
That I could hope for from immortal kings,
Than some decent order in the flow of time.
Some peace in the small space I dare call mine.
If I must live under their silly rules,
These grand kings could at least maintain their tools.
The cogs have been unoiled for years now.
I'd even maintain them if they told me how!
I think immortality makes them lazy,
But their lack of focus drives me crazy.
All I need is for a simple minute,
To have a good sixty seconds in it.
Quite frankly I'm at my final limit.

Word of Warning

If I still lived,
I'd tell the truth.
About my death,
About my life.
You say I live,
But you are wrong.
I lost myself.
Soon I'll be gone,
So completely.
Look I'm Fading.
This paper husk
Has become skin,
And memory
Now paper thin.
Like butterflies
they fly away.
So, before loss
of them takes me
listen closely.
Fairie lands are not
to be tempted.
Don't eat the fruit,
and don't marvel
at mysteries.
It's only the dead
or soon to be
which walk these realms.
So, heed wisdom,
And get yourself
out of your dreams,
before you are
swallowed by them.
And memories
Fly far from you
like butterflies,
leaving forever,
and making you
a paper husk.
Soon you would fade
so completely.
Until you're gone,
And must argue
with someone who
is yet living,
about how you are
dead or at least
in dying state.