i lost myself this morning
i forgot who I had become
i slept to escape the reality
i woke to a blank page
Now I have the freedom
I have unlocked the doors of my prison
I have become childlike
I have found my dreams
I stand on top of a cliff top
Space falls away from me
I close my eyes and my heart stops
I step out and the heavens await me

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

Another Day

Shadows lift with the morning sunrise, to unveil its kiss to the morning mist draped upon the mountains. Radiant sparkles flutter in the surface of the lake, as the birds chirp their song to the day.

The bells peal a dirge
The shuffle of feet stir dust
On an open grave

© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart

Though I Be A Fool…

Though I be a fool, I shall weep
for you, and what will never stay,
my fleeting, broken love so cheap.
Though I be a fool, I shall weep.
And I mourn, my grief wide and deep,
as the sun dims, and clouds grow grey.
Though I be a fool, I shall weep
for you, and what will never stay.

War Drums

Winds blow north, with the coming

In your bones you feel your fear

Through the mists drift the drumming

Forlorn eyes shed one more tear

Voices mournful, chant the dirge

for sons they lost, gone away

Flung too far, hope can’t emerge

when Death cast your dream astray

Emotions at Tide

Undisturbed turbulence veiled by a calm tranquility,

Unleashed by the Earth’s might

Let its Spirit enfold;

Strange yet magnificent in its complexity

Known to change the essence of the mould.

The placidity, complex in the very simplicity

Known to affect the heart of the matter;

The slow ebb and flow of this inner city

One heightened wave meant to shatter.

The crest at the height

One with both the sun of the day

And the ghostly night shadowed in opaque moonlight;

Ebb and flow, ebb and flow nearing the bay.

Tumult of the heart, contradiction in the mind

Causing torment and pain with an ever-present falter;

Reason and logical thought bound as if by a halter:

Innocence borne out of knowledge

Ceased is the ability to solve,

A problem without the logic of college

All that is needed is involved;

One solution is true:

The answer of Love is the glue

meant to shatter,

in truth to matter…

Ailing Rose – Kintsugi Poets Society BlogHop Day 4

My little rose was wailing
Her soul and body ailing
“Can someone help me please
My pain and anguish ease?”

A sorcerer was lurking by
To catch a lost soul’s cry
To weave his ancient charm
A feeble reason to disarm

My little rose then took a gulp
Drank the potion from his cup
And her sweetest little heart
From me did instantly depart

Night and day I groaned
Day and night I moaned
Then a whisper from within
Urged me never to give in

So now I live from day to day
Hoping for my rose to say
“My drifting boat has come ashore
Let the darkness be no more.”

On the Verge of Years

It has been too long, I fear,
Since this stony cheek has felt a tear,
Too long since I made the choice,
To wrong her and lose her voice…

Somewhere in the shadow of these fears,
Something bitter coaxes sweet tears,
Reviewed, the aftermath of so many choices,
Imbued by all of their loving voices…

My heart is a rock and a hard place,
My love is between it, hiding her face,
Lest I say again what should have been,
Ignoring once more the quandary within…

Of all the times, of all the places,
Through all the pages, and all the faces,
Worn like the statue I shall ever be,
Can’t keep the cracks from letting the rain in…

Urging on tears, encroached by jeers,
Conscience sears, no cries it hears,
Of my sins dears, acceptance nears,
On the verge of years…

Brutal

Seasons change, mountains turn to sand,
Rivers run dry, sea withers to land,
But my brutality shall last forever,
Never shall I loosen this hand,
Ever will it bear the brand…

First to shed blood,
To cry remorseful tears,
Left my brother in the mud,
Forgot his name after many years.

All for a sacrifice born of vanity,
Rejection drove me to insanity,
My only recourse was to sever,
Turned sacred ritual into profanity,
Sold for a song my humanity…

Tears become a flood,
As conscience sears,
At that sickening thud,
Confirming darkest fears.

September Rain

The cloud’s tears tumble
down, down
on a scattered bed
of fallen leaves

A chill north wind will
blow, blow
across the plain
towards the mountains

Christmas Spirits

Twas the night before Christmas and as I lay down in bed I sent out a Christmas prayer.
“Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present I plead with you this dark night lit only by the moon.
My Christmas wish tonight is not for gifts of gold and silver wrapped trinkets or sweet morsels to fill my mouth.
My Christmas wish tonight is not for earthly peace nor endless sunshine and cloudless skies.
No, my Christmas wish is a touch, a kiss, a warm embrace, the whisper of my name on breath long disappeared.
My Christmas wish is for the living and the spirits to meet once more, even for a few hours.
My Christmas wish is to tell those that left me how I loved them and how I missed their presence in my life.
My Christmas wish is to hear the sweet tinkling bells of their laughter and to feel the warmth of their smiles.
My Christmas wish is to tell them that though their spirits now walk this realm and the next, their love remains alive in my heart.
Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present I plead with you this dark night lit only by the moon.” As the moon disappeared behind veiled clouds of deep grey, I fell asleep with trickling rain dripping down my cheek.

It was not long and I heard a sound and felt a warm caress dry the rain’s tears from my cheek.
A voice bent down to my ear and whispered my name and I heard tinkling laughter coming from all corners of the room.
I slowly opened my eyes and looked to see what marvel had appeared in my room under the clouded sky.
There in a bed, covered up to the chin by a heavy blanket of death-white, lay a girl with a dried tear on her cheek.
Her hair was smooth and dark against the white of the pillow and her lips were bruised as if some kiss had longed to punish them.
I heard the tinkling laughter then and looked to my side and behind me.
There were ethereal specters there all around the bed of this lost girl.
The moon had disappeared but pale light shone through their shadowy forms.

I looked back at the girl wondering where I had seen her before.
One of these specters looked at me then for the first time and smiled a smile that embraced my soul in warmth and light.
The specter’s lips did not move but a low melodious sound came from him like a cello chasing the sound of light in a moonless night:
“We heard your Christmas plea little one. You did not ask for earthly peace nor endless sunshine and cloudless skies.
You did not ask for gold and silver wrapped trinkets or sweet morsels to fill your mouth.
Your Christmas wish was for the living and the spirits to meet once more.
So here we come, at your call and as you wished…all the spirits who loved you once and missed you long.”
But dear one the living must sacrifice life itself to walk with the spirits…Your sacrifice has been a tender gift for us this Christmas Past.”

Then he stretched out his hand and he touched mine.
I trembled in fear at his words and wished to take back my Christmas plea.
I had not wished to sacrifice life, what of all those I love this Christmas Present.
His hand went right through air and though I could feel his strong grasp, there was no hand to cling to in return.
I looked down again at the lost girl lying asleep in eternity and knew that my heart would ache to feel the tears of rain or light of the moon again.
No more endless sunshine nor cloudless skies for me. No earthly peace nor gifts of gold and silver.
No touch, no kiss, nor embrace, sweet laughter, nor whispers of my name.

These specters were only veils of what had been warm breath and soft laughter, shed tears and sweet memories.
The lost girl lay in bed as the clouded sky gave way to the all seeing eye of the morning.
All around I could hear carolers singing and in the house far away I could hear mother and father calling out “Merry Christmas.”
The lost girl did not stir. Christmas Eve had come and passed taking her with it.
I watched the two people I had once known as mom and dad come running in with gifts of gold and silver wrapped trinkets spilling forth from their embrace.
I saw the woman collapse to the floor before he could catch her and the sounds that poured forth from both pulled a veil over the sun, their misery was so great.

I knew then, looking at the ugly grief of the couple where I recognised that lost girl.
She had been this same specter once before when it breathed, laughed, hoped and loved.
I took one last glance at the lost girl and the grieving couple and I bent down and whispered my forgotten name in the woman’s ear.
She shivered at the sound of my whisper and glanced wildly around searching for that missing girl
I touched the man’s arm but he shook my touch off as if a cruel thing had pierced him.

The specter who had spoken so melodiously before beckoned me once more.
The other ethereal forms had drifted off as the moon had been swallowed by the morning.
He looked at me once again and his face showed pain so great and so forlorn:
“Come child, you are no more. Now you walk the realm with those who have gone before.”

Now I walk this realm and the next longing for a warm touch, a sweet kiss and shared laughter.
I visit all the homes of my loved ones each Christmas, silently coming in with the moonlight and leaving with the sun.
I am moonlight and stardust, wind and water but ancient spirit I remain.

Heed the wishes you make on Christmas night for twas a wish such as this that took my breath…
Heed the living and love the present for the realm of spirits leaves much to be attained…

Heed the Christmas wish that regrets the past, forgetting your gift of Now but love life lest you sacrifice it.

Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present keep your silence, the living seek you out…