Tethered Heart

April 17, 2011 at 8:43 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , , )

The pilgrim has resided in my blood, insatiate for years,

But now the lust for new lands has grown too strong.

We desire the mountains, the lakes,

The cities, the cottages, the temples

We need lessons learned only in adventure.

Yet, there is a tether tied to my heart.

If he asked me to stay I know I would still go

But since he spurs us to leave

I know I will stay, even when he has gone.

To love me enough to let me go

And still be my home while I am away

And when I returned

Is all that I have ever needed to know.


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Another Viola

April 12, 2011 at 1:09 pm (Poetry, Sonnets) (, , , , , )

Look at me. Another lost Viola.

Sitting in disguise and quiet, secret love

To see him, ah! but to love him with a-

No. Don’t say passion. Don’t say smold’ring love.

I, Viola, must sit with patience,

Must sit and not be seen or heard or loved.

To break my promise would kill my conscience-

Would return me to that hated, dark flood.

That unholy night where my soul first lost

Those black times when my deeds were unguarded

I killed my dreams in regretted holocaust.

And now I wait, missing what I discarded.

Their sacrifice that I might learn anew

That grace still comes even when merits are few.


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Dancers in Masks

April 10, 2011 at 2:15 am (Poetry) (, , , , , )

The moon in the sky was shrouded in mist

And the wet earth barely felt her rays.

The dancers came out with their glossy black masks,

They reveled till their cares were erased.

And under the trees with the fog closing in

They met their true selves in the damp.

Beneath the dim stars they tossed away those masks

And left that dark dance to lead a joyful tramp.

The dancers cleared away and the dead trees sighed.

The mist began to clear and lighten the earth.

Yet there in the stillness was one unturned mask

And the dark side of the moon was never unearthed.

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Mirror Shards

April 7, 2011 at 8:21 pm (Poetry) (, , )

Staring in a mirror does little good

Shards may come together in a shimmering, glimmering picture

But who’s to say it’s right

Who’s to say it’s good

In a world so often called black and white

There seems an awful lot of gray

That’s right for you

Not right for me


In a mirror I stand

Scarf in hand

Dear Isadora my fate is less than yours

Yet so simple a device turned perilous in your fair hand

Your red breast and white scarf

Are cold and burnt in Paris

Though we both danced out of love for life

Your beat is no longer mine


It was wrong for you

It is wrong for me

And yet still it was right

To you the world was alive

Isadora I desire the same

But it is so cold without you

You flowed through the world with laughter on your lips

It was exactly as it should have been


There are no diamonds on my fingers

Nor screens that hold my face

Lovely Lauren you lived so much more than I

So much love to show so very unlike me

You melted in men’s arms

Held icons as your lovers

I see your face in a darkened mirror

And know it is not mine


It was perfect for you

I wish it would be perfect for me

My name on his crooning lips

My hands held in his as the song fills the air

Oh Lauren you have lived so well

My life is frozen in comparison

The silver screen can barely contain your love and life

And everything is as it should be


Azalea petals in my hands are bright even as they wilt

The mirror is warm to the touch

But Sylvia you are cold

Your inky fingers have surpassed my untried hands

Tears are worthless at the thought of your loss

But come unbidden all the same

You touched the core of sorrow in life

And experienced more than can be held in this cold heart of mine


It was wrong

It is wrong

Why does that make it right?

So much magic in your hands melted away

Sylvia, dear girl, your life was incomplete

My life might be warm, but the chill has pervaded still

Your words were too few; your heart was too heavy

Yet this is how everything should be


The shattered mirror shows feathered quills

And papers upon the floor

I see you fair Jane

I know your words and know they hold power over me

To hold your hand which told so much

And still sways many hearts

We dance at gaily lit balls with men whose faces are obscured

Your fate could so easily be mine


It was right

It will be right for all time

But it feels wrong and unfair

Vivid characters should be the product of vivid life

But Jane you were ever unloved

You are cold and therefore cold is my way too

Books tell of your imagination which was so much more than your life

Is this how it all should be?


The shattered mirror shows a dancer with bare feet

An actress whose eyes held the sky

A writer with too little time

A dreamer who let life slide by

The pieces can be put together

But what does that show?

Is it me or is it fate?

Where did all this gray come from?

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March 10, 2011 at 8:17 am (Sonnets) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

For love, I gave my heart and lost my head.

One look from him was all that I desired,

But still I ran from him – dry-eyed, I fled.

Fear of the future, of secrets – I risked fire –

Soul burning agony. All for freedom.

But there was no freedom in that dark place –

More pain. More chains. More fear. And now, no him,

No love to save me, and so I must perish.

Perish pining, darkly burning in strife!

Regret consumed me. Overwhelmed my soul.

In wandering thoughts I laid down my life,

I let my wits away, and gave up control.

But my knight arrived and in his hand took mine –

Too late my mind was caught in sorrow’s vine.

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February 12, 2011 at 4:33 pm (Words for the Great and Small) (, , , , , , )

This is my favorite poem that I’ve written for this project.  It’s Rivkah’s slightly romanticized view of herself.

Dear little girl in the high, high hills,

Whither did you come from? Whither will you go?

“I came from afar for the porcupine quills,

Whither I will go I do not know.”


Dear little girl in the deep, deep sea,

Whither did you come from? Whither will you go?

“I came from afar for the seaweed tea,

Whither I will go I do not know.”


Dear little girl in the tall, tall trees,

Whither did you come from? Whither will you go?

“I came from afar for the larch tree leaves,

Whither I will go I do not know.”


Dear little girl in the big, big town,

Whither did you come from? Whither will you go?

“I came from afar for the toothsome hound,

Whither I will go I do not know.”


Dear little girl by her lone, lone self,

Whither did you come from? Whither will you go?

“I came from afar from the tall elf Queen,

She named me Rivkah and will not let me go.”

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River Dreams

February 11, 2011 at 4:14 pm (Words for the Great and Small) (, , , , , , )

This is what I like to imagine is Rivkah’s first foray into the poetic world.  She probably wrote it around the time she learning how words sounded out loud and what they meant.

Splishy, splashy water runs

River, river where do you go?

Splishy fishy travels with

River, river why do you run?

Splishy wishy dreams run too

River, river take me with you.

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Mother Eternal

February 10, 2011 at 12:27 pm (Words for the Great and Small) (, , , , , , , )

This is another poem from this set that I rather enjoy. It was fun to write because I got to tie in some of my favorite tree lore with Rivkah’s (my DnD character) feelings and desires.

Find comfort in the beech trees arms

She loves you, little one

Climb high upon her noble brow

She beckons you, little one

Be crowned with leaves of joy and grace

They’re just for you, little one

Rest in her shade and safety

She will protect you, little one

Though you grow older she stays the same

She will watch you, little one

Never fear her, always love her

Heed my words, little one

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Lessons from the Sea

February 9, 2011 at 3:20 pm (Words for the Great and Small) (, , , , , , )

This is one of my favorites that I’ve written for Words for the Great and Small.  I hope you enjoy it too.

My father sailed out on the good ship Siren a week before I was born.

The sun was low in the eastern sky and my mother was sure she would see him no more.

Over the years I grew and stared at the sea wondering where my father could be.

Through the storms I worried and calm spells I hoped but he never returned to me.

I became a young man and learned for myself all the harms and joys of the earth.

Then one day on the tide a ship sailed in with my father safe in his berth.

My mother did cry with joy at the sight but my father got only silence from me.

He pulled me aside, looked in my eyes, and said “son, you may know the joys of the earth but you have yet to learn from the sea.”

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A Chasing

February 8, 2011 at 8:41 pm (Words for the Great and Small) (, , , , , , )

Before introducing this new poem I would like to explain the project that it goes along with. I am writing a series of children-ish type poems for a DnD campaign I am playing. Yes, I know that is beyond uber-nerdy, but my character needed them so I was inclined to write them. Bear with me since these are almost all first drafts and not incredibly well edited.

Green grass for summer and red leaves for fall

White snow in winter and blue water in spring

Come catch me children, come find me one and all

I am present wherever the wind makes earth sing

The days grow long and the sun is above

Then shorter they’ll be and the moon will shine bright

Chase me my darling, oh follow me love

Where the seas toss and turn I am there in my might

Kind breezes for play times and cold chills for sick

Warm air fine for romping and iced air fun for hiding

Come follow me and play with me, come now be quick

I’ll never be far when the seasons are colliding

Run now with me in the air warm and free

I am there with thee wherever the wind may be

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