dantes85 Poetry (7)

The girl with the flowers
Walked by
Her bouquet was small, pert
And pretty.
She stared off,
As she walked;
Nonchalantly -
Her fingers forming little spirals
With the ribbons on her bouquet.


Her hair was coloured
A bright Auburn red
She moved with the ease of
Few thoughts in her head
And as I watched her,
I realised with dread,
That the very sight of her
Made me feel dead.

You always drank the whole glass
You always let your troubles pass
And as it burned you felt free
And then you turned and spoke to me.

I was troubled by the glass
Full or Empty, or just Half.
I could not share your youthful glee,
Pressing questions bothered me.

The wine was poured all through the night,
The clock observed - with a fright
And as you stood there so sublime
You pondered bed, I pondered Time.

Consumed as thus, and troubled so
I took a walk out in the snow.
Returning home I saw you frown
And promptly ceased to "act the clown".

I look at you upon your shelf;
A sullen semblance of a self;
Your purpose served long ago,
Faded now like Winter's snow.

I dust you off and take you down,
Nurse your scratches with a frown,
Study you with eyes intent,
Run my fingers on a dent.

Once our music was so sweet;
Holding you, I was complete.
Now your voice is shrill and loud,
Where once you softly drew a crowd.

Another man should take you now,
Caress your neck and gently bow,
Tame your lonely, broken soul;
And whisper music no-one knows.

We traverse our own realities
Thinking what we like.
We curse the empty heavens
For ignoring all our plight.

Blame springs eternal
It's not you, it's me.
Internal or external;
What we think, we see.

Thankful for the sunrise
Though it burns our eyes,
Grateful for the night
Black across the skies.

A smile from o'er a distance,
Sharing how we feel,
Fractures our existence
With the malice it conceals.

Our lives are just delusion;
Belief built up on fact,
Embracing our confusion,
Supplanting blue for black.

In a world made of opinions:
"For peace we need to fight",
Everything's subjective,
So from darkness . . we make light.

We glide through the doors
Of an ice chateau,
Preserved forever
In it's frozen glory.

We walk down the streets
Of a crumbling city,
Keepsake of ages past;
A fading daguerreotype.

We stumble through the ruins
Of deserted decadence,
Resplendent in former glory;
Relic of time immemorial.


Whispers of a forgotten people,
Bound forever in Stone and Steel,
Emanate from the works of all that was,
To fall like Autumn leaves,
On ears that no longer listen.

All night the flares go up; the Dragon sings
And beats upon the dark with furious wings;
And, stung to rage by his own darting fires,
Reaches with grappling coils from town to town;
He lusts to break the loveliness of spires,
And hurl their martyred music toppling down.

Yet though the slain are homeless as the breeze,
Vocal are they,like storm-bewilder'd seas.
Their faces are the fair, unshrouded night,
And planets are their eyes, their ageless dreams.
Tenderly stooping earthward from their height,
They wander in the dusk with chanting streams,
And they are dawn-lit trees, with arms up-flung,
To hail the burning heavens they left unsung.

There was a time not long ago
When life was bright as sun on snow
When all the strife was understood
When war was fought without the blood.

A summer's dream, her hand in mine
A sea without the sand and brine
A face that knew the pain of deeds
An orchid fresh amongst the weeds.

Time moves on without restraint
Souls are ruined and left to waste
A modern age, brave and strong
Suffocation in the throng.

Summer's love, bound to fail
Cast aside for winter's hail
And though we're grateful for the past
We knew too well it couldn't last.

Youth is fleeting, love's not free
Spend them in good company
Think too much and miss the prize
Left with loss to analyse.

The bond we had has gone astray
With the wind, it blew away
And though each night comes cold and dull
The sunrise follows, round and full.