A butterfly parts
The wild grass framing the sea
Drawing me inwards
A butterfly parts
The wild grass framing the sea
Drawing me inwards
Build on something that never runs out.
Twilight, and the ocean breaks
A world in turmoil, like the heart that breaks
On rocks as ragged as broken bones
Ships seek shelter like orphans from broken homes
Like the lost and weary, the misguided sailing in the eerie...
Of the unsettled ink that whispers on your thoughts
A puzzle of your mind, fragmented by crosses and naughts
Solutions and stories that remain untold
Hidden on the waves for a moment before they fold
Like thoughts disrupted and clarity disguised
The ocean of the soul refuses to carry lies
And so we come to this
A revelation in the mists
Of dark and stormy waters that purify...
Make ready for tales that no one knew
From broken vessels that ignored the lighthouse guiding lights
We find entertainment in the wreckage of firelight
And begin to write from secret shores
Calmer waters that make their own laws
We scrawl new histories of brighter days
Enlightened nights that follow the unforgiving sun and it's haze
We choose days to fade away
Step back from the world and play
New games, word games, puzzles and rhymes
These are the pages and these are our times
As we inspire
Set fire to the night
And party to twilight as the ocean breaks...
© Richard Withey. All rights reserved.
To you whom I adore and love,
Your name is that of a Skylark's song. My mouth becomes a garden filled with fragrant budding roses shyly blooming in spring when I speak.
Your face is the smile on my face when you look at me.
The one you gave me when we first met. I may lose my way but I know your face will always find me for you will be looking for that smile—the one you left and shared with me.
Your arms are my fortress, my strength. The one that always picks me up when I fall. You cradle me in your arms. Your hugs, my safe place. An umbrella in the rain.
Your chest is my favorite radio station.
I put my ear against it as I listen to that strong beat. Cheeks flushed as I watch that rise and fall when you breathe. Hearts in sync, warm blood flowing in our veins, we dance to the rhythm of our heartbeats.
Your hands are magic. They leave a trail of words in many secret places. Creating poems as it glides on my skin. A gentle carving on every line and curve. You touch not only my body but something deeper within.
Yours is the name
that made my soul sing.
Yours is the face that I gladly
wake up to on every new day.
The chest that houses my heart, my life.
The arms I will always hold on to.
The hand that writes my poetry.
I thank you for loving me.
even when everything is falling
and the dawn is about to break
the compass shows the right places
and wounds are closing up
a tender heart
is to feel
the remnants of a wound
that comes along
for the ride
the boat stays its course
down the endless river
till it reaches the edge
back and forth
the gathered grains
on the shore at rest
Gentile waves tapping the edges of the shore
As the dragons breath overshadows the horizon
Melting away tomorrow's possibilities
And the sky pours down stalactite glory
Until we are given no choice but to explore
these new vast foreboding caves
The imaginary world of the pens power
This gift for words so often abused by societies misuse
Storm clouds gathering and no silver lining can be found
Showers of blood, we have never been so clean
Ravens perched in silent witness forever more
Flickering lights in the attic, fuse blown in the memories
Betrayed by those now blowing nothing but hot air
Which we use to float above all this fucking unwanted hate
Ancient soul living in the body of youth
If only someone else could feel the pain
Carried on the back of so many forgotten lifetime's
Exposing the darkness others choose to ignore
It's the eerie energy of a house with empty rooms. Powdered dust of moments left on old furnitures with parts slowly falling and decaying. All are useless. Left in haste, slowly dragging time to waste. Like the broken rooms of an empty heart—hollow laments echoing deep as sunbeam seeps through cracked walls. Allowing slivers of light to come in; warming frosted windows and trodden bloody floor as it shines. Love peeks out the tiny peephole on the door but only for a little while. Soon it retreats. Back to its space of slumber, a dark room of nothing filled with the brooding heavy clouds of repose.
dark and damp
wet and weary
grey clouds over me
It had been a long time since dragons had ruled the world but that didn't stop them from being smug youknowwhats. The smuggest of all was a dragon named Autolatry. Far to old to change his ways, Autolatry hadn't quite gotten used to the idea, or even entertained the idea, that people now ruled the known world. The idea just didn't suit his preferred order of things. He continued to burn villages to the ground, stealing princesses only sightly less obnoxious than himself; hiding them away from wannabe knights in high towers atop higher mountains.
But as with all great villains, an end to his evil ways was drawing nearer by the day. A hero, named Penelope (The man registering births that year had been rather deaf), was growing up in a small town; ruled by the single thought of rescuing the damsels from their high towers and slaying the dragon. Then one day, all grown up, rusting blade in hand, he had arrived at Autolatry's gate.
He knocked to no reply (his mother was big on manners), so quiet as a mouse, he snuck through the "open" gates, through the great hall to the place where Autolatry lay upon a bed of gold. Great snores rumbled through the hall, sleep was rare for dragon kind and when it hit, the sleep was deep and vast. With a sicker-snack Penelope parted Autolatry from his head. Not an eyelid flickered, not a noise was made. The dragon had been slayed!
Off he went, proclaiming to all, "The deed is done, dragon is dead!" Cheers echoed through the streets but fame I am afraid, did get the better of Penelope. He soon demanded a price be paid, for ridding the land of Autolatry. But greed grows if fed. Soon princesses were only returned upon payment... Economies collapsed under the weight of heavy taxations brought about to pay the might sums that were demanded; soon the land was beyond repair and the people beyond despair.
So history teaches us, that far too often, one villain is replaced by another and that evil comes in many forms.
Facts over fiction
Logic over ignorance
Mind over matter
Science surrounds us
It is life, it is death, I
Trust its principles
Be strong and be smart
Go out today, go and make