This is my poetry collection. Tell me what you think and please be honest.
I follow you,
up into the mountain forest.
Where the sunlight,
from the setting sun,
illuminates the ephemeral cherry blossoms.
Your glittering wings,
flutter gracefully on the soft autumn breeze,
and sparkle in the ethereal, amber light.
I remember us;
embracing by the fountain
in the centre of town.
It is approaching sunset,
and the street life is dying.
We sit there gazing into the crystal water.
“Te quiero.” You suddenly whisper,
softly in my ear.
I smile.
“Le amo tambien.” I whisper back.
Slowly we begin to kiss.
The roughness of the rock beneath us;
the harsh roars of passing cars;
the fading golden light –
none of it seemed to matter.
Time was only measured
in your heart beating against mine.
I wipe away a tear,
the vividness of the memory,
aches my heart.
You flutter deeper into the dense forest.
I chase after you,
but the encroaching dark,
shrouds you from my eyes.
I remember that night;
the miserable rain,
hammering down upon the rough road.
You and I were running,
trying to find shelter.
Then a blaze of white
illuminated everything.
Then a roar –
oh a loud roar –
exploded in our ears.
Then I felt you warm hands,
Pull me close – as if for the last time –
and then push me to the side.
My hands scream
As they strike the ground.
The sound came suddenly.
The sickening sound of something breaking,
then being smacked against the ground.
Silence.
I turn around to find you laying there,
your clothes are stained crimson.
"¡Socorro!” I scream.
I run up and down the dark, deserted road.
"¡Socorro!” I scream again, "¡Hubo un accidente!”
You continue to lie there
not moving.
Tears are pouring down my cheeks,
as I remember you there
- so vulnerable.
I race after you,
through the forest.
"¡Espere!” I cry, “¡Espéreme!”
A strong southerly wind
shakes the overhead branches.
Cherry blossom petals,
soaked from a previous day’s rain,
shimmer as they fall like snow to the ground.
I call out to you again,
but you just continue.
Your shining wings
sear a rift in the surrounding darkness,
illuminating a gravestone
- your gravestone.
I fall to my knees,
my soul cracks open.
The grief I kept laden in my heart,
rushes out like the outgoing tide.
My hands pummel the dirt,
my scream fills the dark.
Those final days,
come rushing back,
with as much force as a tidal wave.
I remember waiting,
the silent waiting in the emergency room.
Every tick of the overhead clock,
like a fire of a gun.
My heart feels ready to burst.
I can’t stop shaking.
I feel like a leaf
caught in a wind,
unable to control itself
let alone anything around it.
After painful ages,
a macabre doctor appears.
His eyes looked empty,
his face ashen.
My soul sank,
my heart stood still.
I stand up,
waiting expectantly for his verdict.
“Lo siento.” He mumbles to the floor.
"¡No!” My cry resounds throughout the hall
as I crash to the floor.
My tears, everyone an ounce of my soul
falls through time and space
before crashing to the ground.
Your funeral I’ll never forget.
I stood by your coffin the whole procession.
The white oak
looked so rough and uncomfortable.
I was certain you couldn’t have enjoyed
being in there.
Your face however,
looked more peaceful than I had ever seen it.
The light from the sunset,
shone gently on you -
as if caressing you –
giving you an angelic quality.
I felt like shaking you,
and yelling, "¿Por qué?”
over and over till my lungs burst.
I felt like hitting you,
we still had our whole lives to live together,
how dare you leave me here all alone!
Mourners came and went,
but I stayed by your side.
I placed red and white roses
on your coffin as they lowered you.
I fled unable to stand anymore.
Later that day,
I found myself at the lake;
you and I had swum in,
Earlier that summer.
The setting sun rays,
were dancing
On the lake’s calm surface when we were there.
As we lay on its banks
the light shone on your dark hair,
And it brightened your smile.
I casually asked you,
if you were reincarnated,
What would you come back as.
You turned to me and grinned,
“Una mariposa.” you replied.
Sitting in front of your grave now,
I was jarred from my memories
back to reality.
Una mariposa?
I glanced at you,
as fluttered up into
The strengthening dawn,
too far for my outstretched hand.
Una mariposa…
Marvel at my white lustre, do I shine?
People stand below me, their eyes
filled with awe at my appearance.
I smile, pleased.
Spear in one hand; shield in the other
I stand proud as tourists come
from far and wide to marvel
at my magnificence.
Here stands Athena,
all shall bow before me.
Tourists come and go,
I remain. Rooted
and stuck. My laced boots,
every bit as seemly as
clumps of marble. My flowing
toga, a brilliant white ivory.
I gaze far into the horizon,
at the setting sun. I long to see
the world and all her splendour.
Alas, I am but a statue,
condemned to stay here,
assaulted by the wind and rain.
Will there come a time
when my looks become weather-beaten?
My smooth alabaster skin; rough
and chipped by the cruel rain?
Apollo wise one, do you know?
Will no one come any more?
The only company I will have will be
the birds and bees
and memories long since passed,
but now lost in the past with
wars, wars, wars and dust.
Answer me oh godly sage!
You can’t can you?
I am all alone now.
Rubicund tears
fade to a pallid hue
as they fall
upon the cold,
marble ground below.
Upon thy blade
I have fallen.
Why?
Was it for love?
Regret?
Perhaps.
Oh, do not worry.
T’is a scratch!
That is all.
Hah!
Do not worry
about me. You don’t
deserve to.
This is your doing,
not mine.
What is there to be sad about?
You will live,
not I. Or are you sorry?
No.
No.
How can you be so cold?
As cold as the icy hands of
death that have come for me.
Our friendship
has sunk far beneath the
icy surface of the Atlantic.
It now rests with its
lover the Titanic.
Darkness has come for my sight,
stealing you away from me.
Goodbye fair Montague.
A plague upon your houses!
A little black box,
with sides of priceless mahoganny.
Engravings
as incomrehensable as heiroglyphics
enthrall my attention. I gaze
upon
these tiny sketches.
Swirls, stars, broken lines. Just like
my
mind these pictorials represent.
The box is in the shape of a
tombstone. Heavy as one too.
I wonder if it is mine?
A silver lock keeps
the content of this box secret.
Unhappiness
it seems is not welcome within it.
I feel the same. I do. I do. Who is it that
bequeaths
such an enigmatic
object to me? How terrible that only in
death
can gifts such as this be passed on.
I have no gifts
or
anything to pass down. Not even
happiness.
Eventually I prise open
the squeaky lid and take a look inside.
Night
it seems, rests within the box. Shadows
and darkness hide within it and it all
shrouds
the contents of this strange box.
I rummage around it and find some photos.
The eyes
of previous friends smile up at me. Why?
Why do I have to be reminded
of everyone
that betrayed me? They left me while I had to stay.
The memory bounces around my mind.
Taunted I am forever
by it. Why did they leave? Am
I
not likeable? Is that it? Who cares
anyway? I don’t
miss
them - the bastards!
Who needs friends? To hell with all
my
relationships! I don’t need
that pain in my life. I don’t want anymore
friends!
You
a marble colossus and I
a dove feather,
pure and white and as frail and
delicate as the dew drops of a May morning.
Which lay, poised
upon the blades
of the lush green grass.
Precariously they wobble,
to and thro,
among the winds of the cruel
premature Spring.
You
talk and talk
- a myriad of feeble notes
which
rise to a crescendo and
echo, echo,
across the wall of the grave,
the cave
I retreat into.
I long to reach for you.
My hand trembles, unable
to pass through my invisible shell.
My
shell of tangible memory.
Memories long rotted
and fragmented. Fragments
which shear my reality.
Unable to distinguish
the real from surreal;
your lustrous ivory
drowns in a fearsome crimson.
No longer do I know you.
Kaleidoscopic images coalesce
in a collage, a mirage of you.
What are you doing to me?
Why? Why?
I, I, I,
I close my eyes and retreat
into myself. Reality
blends with fantasy and I
run and run
through my fields of paper flowers and
watch my purple sky fly over me.
Your
musical voice,
as beautiful as a glissando,
fades to a hush
which falls and rises,
foaming to a wave.
A wave
which engulfs me and the
fragile cores of the Narcissus.
Which bleed and bleed
their self love into the
vast waters of the icy
North Sea
and rises,
rises to the surface.
Gaze upon the reflective surface
- featureless, not caring. It is
exactly what you want to be.
No.
No.
Wrong.
Look again.
Again.
Boil and boil
the water goes.
Watch
as the reluctant scarlet
seeps to a raging crimson.
From the depths
of this evil hell
I rise
with unending fury
and my demon tail
and punish the cruel without fail.
intense…
-Imp
Immovable darkness;
a heavy gauze curtain
which glitters and ruffles uncertainly
in the dark. A light
- a firefly, a lonely white pearl –
squeaks through the repugnant darkness.
The lamplight spreads throughout the room and
flickers with ardor.
Golden thread; Eos’ arm,
that extends from the open lantern and
caresses your cherubic face.
Your Godly image
rises up to me from the nightly depths like a
glowing pink bubble
- a shiny new toy; a pink balloon.
Rosy alabaster skin;
a golden fleece for hair;
soft, rosy cheeks as if kissed
by the roses which grow upon the
hallowed earth within the Elysian gardens.
You are the epitome of love.
My love…
Peel back the curtain
and watch as Aurora opens her eyes and
embraces the sleeping land,
warming it with her golden hues,
faint pastels and powder blues.
You murmur in your sleep.
Your moth breath as soft
as a gentle summer wind that blows
across the wheat fields and through the rose
beds. A breath that quietens
- a retreating tide across the sand.
I stroke your silky skin.
I kiss your pillow like lips.
I know the price
which I now must pay.
I do. I do.
I just had to see you,
gaze upon you.
My love.
This room is the east and
you are the sun;
the bright shimmer upon a lake;
the shiny, silver lining upon a raincloud
which bursts and cries,
cries, cries. Releasing
its succulent fluids
- your élan vital –
into the fertile valley below.
Fluids that darken from a
translucent crystal to a
crimson pool
of sweet, sweet juice.
Which bleed and bleed
from the cracked cores of the passionflower
and shimmers upon the blades
of grass like the morning dew.
Now, I must part from you.
My soul mate;
the “toc” to the “tic”.
I’m sorry
but I must leave you behind.
From this somber chamber,
this rouge atrium that beats of love,
I step out and stretch my dove wings
and take flight upon Apollo’s golden chariot
and scatter our seed between the
baby’s breath and forget-me-nots.
Flowing crystal
- a clear substanceless hue –
which meanders, suicidal,
into the icy waters of the Atlantic - which pours jade over blue.
Across its blooming banks,
we walked hand in hand.
Me and you. Oh you….
Apollo’s flaming chariot
falls through the cloudless azure,
into a deep wheat field of amber and gold.
It seems nothing can escape
Death. Nothing.
Nothing.
Against his ivory hand and
substanceless, ebony cloak,
the arrow of Eros which caught me
and you, snaps. Rotting,
rotting into a dust.
Which scatters upon the rose fields
we pass.
Grasslands of green,
forests of soft, willow wood.
Their long tendrils, veil
their fragile spirits within.
We walk past flower beds of blue.
You like at me and smile.
I love you.
I do. I do.
Long lost is the memory I have of you now.
Fade it does with the daylight.
Envious Selene, it seems, wants to steal you from me.
You bend down to pick a posy
or two. Sapphire petals in rings
of five. Five for every finger.
Five for every sense of mine.
I drown in a fit of passion.
I drown in you.
The freakish waters,
dance and frolic in a perpetual
state of ecstasy.
Laugh and laugh
the water does. Laughter
which pierce the crisp air and
ring, ring and
climaxes in a song. A requiem
- a myriad of mournful notes.
The Sirens continue to sing and sing.
You take one step.
One step then two.
The connection we have rips,
along with the love – the glue.
The waters swallow you.
Oh you….
Fading, rotting
the memories of you die.
Shatter and fracture like a
mirror. The pieces
become lodged in my psyche.
Rotting, fading
- the memories fly away on the black
wings of a crow.
I reach for you. The torrential blue
pulls you further and further.
Over the roar, I hear you.
You call and call and call.
Your voice sounds far away.
The flowers I hold cry in the madness.
Their sapphire tears glitter and
float along the cold, cold wind.
“Forget me not my love.”
You call. A last cry.
The words imprint themselves upon my soul,
my heart, my mind.
I wont my love.
I wont.
The memories of you rot to a dust and
fade with the dying light.
Lost you are forever from me.
The alabaster skin, your golden coat of hair.
The pieces left of you rot and fade.
Further you retreat into the shadows.
I can no longer hold on to them.
I’m forgetting you.
Forgetting your face,
your love,
your silk like caress of my skin.
I’m forgetting you.
The times we shared,
our hopes.
I’m forgetting you.
“Forget me not my love.”
Your voice becomes noise.