And so it begins. Huh. That was not that much of a brooding introduction as I thought it would be. Oh, well. Anyway, greetings! Expect this blog to be an asylum of poems, and possibly even stories if I do get around to finishing them. This is my little writing workshop of horrors. Just kidding. Enjoy … Continue reading Welcome!
Winter tear drops leave upon the white flickers in the sea, Where I’ve looked to the red droplets that were dark as geraniums, Winter beats the cold orchids into the wind that is frail as bone, Where memory passed darkly as the ocean-white dream That is the faint mesa that trails of rocky red in … Continue reading Mid-Dream.
River of lone which grabs the bloodied, hanging bough upon a wisp dead tree Where the darkened deep sea could bring me the tears from a shattered rock that shadows the sun, As the petals of the red, blanketed flowers that would speak to us in bloom Would fall dead at the bed of falling … Continue reading The Rivers of What I Can’t Forget.
the lights push their tiny twinkling mighty fists through royal orange tinged ozone cloak where in the northernmost cheek of Lady Angeles Her court’s Hollywood sign summons the ghost perhaps to enhance Her downtown hemline where Her proud feet stomp down with fury on the last remaining eyes. on Lady Angeles’ head is the jeweled … Continue reading “To Eden Ahbez” By M Brazfield.
A lit flame upon the stitched rag of shore, Which pales upon the blossoms of a winter rose, I think of a frail dream with Greek souls and song, That slightly breathed through the muted shore. When will it part? These cold rivers are of a marred red, And will discard to the faintest breath … Continue reading Frail River Wasteland.
The dripping willows through the fragility of the dream Makes the numb candles point to a dead fortnight Surrendered to the blinding rivers that I would soon forget In this winter dream; where no leaf crosses the river, Where no dream is upon the weak bough above the sea, Which instills the wraith of the … Continue reading A Forgetful Dream, a Memory.
Shine the light—dawn my face, Stretch the bones, flamed from the lay of this dream, And could it be true? The glass, the glass Is the beat of this pang—the tremor of wind blows, As the fragile eidolon blew through the dandelion That flushes its cob petals onto the clatter of grass, Tilts like the … Continue reading The Death of Spring.
Shines above, the light that finds The sea’s protest and the dream of a wildflower, Where the trees of death were made with patted seeds By the bygone dream’s shadow that pleaches Virgin buttresses from this cold pearl of the night. Autumn is the dark, dark Leaf that floats through some wind now, Along with … Continue reading A Wildflower Dream.
The weaved hung warmth of vernal flame, That which kissed upon the tears through The hollowed smoke, which turns the eve. The golden dale washed through the sea As the reflection of the drafts that were bound to death To the stones that float, whisked by a gentle air With a chill to the dainty … Continue reading Dusk Alone.
The undulous sea, That which chimes the darkness Upon the death of the old chill Which leads the tremor of the stream. The moon mopes through The soggy and drowsy night That the voice of the wind Calls and calls, Drifting Nuances—tides and the wind, From the moon and the lip Of light passed through; … Continue reading The Sweet Rain.
The meadows winded from gold, As the dawn of the early day sets To the death of the gale Between the droplets of mist Angled by the trees. It came as the silent Shadows that budded from Its flesh and drops of dew With the wind curled by The breast of the sycamore Dwindled by … Continue reading Autumn Leaves.
Sister, you have stretched your slender fingers to let the bough hang above me, The sour yellow glazed fruit of the sweet crisp peach is hung as an orange ghost, Sister, the tender pale blossom flowered on your finger but now I see a daughter of Eve, Where the yellow powdered orange gold sweat glinted … Continue reading “Peach Tree: Daughters of Eve (Sonnet 7)” By S. Thorston Scarlett.
So this is pretty neat! Thank you WilNaKo for nominating me for the Sunshine Blogger Award! The rules: Thank the blogger who nominated you and provide a link back to their blog so others can find them. List the rules and display an award logo on your blog post. Answer the 11 questions the blogger … Continue reading Sunshine Blogger Award!
When the hand lays on sights, dead, That collapsed dust from earlier time, That acceded some time beyond the winds, lead With the lining, cried at first breath. Doth the rooms that kiss the gold of night As when the mutters of veiled chance Bested the light that silence commended, strife, As the rivers bound … Continue reading Unquiet Light.
And when the shadowed sea slicked, The dead moon of the sea was watchful, And in its glare, with thy dead streams, Lapped once with earthly stars, And there birthed the era to be Beyond the words that melt with wax Upon the structured shines of light, Between dreams and eidolons, And I’d remember, day … Continue reading The Shadowed Sea.
Upon the wells of the drear of Winter, which lit the slippery tears The marred shore would part beyond the cold moon shining the sea. As the lady slips a tear beside the glass of a stone, so mere, With the valley dell of an unlit sea, handling the wind beyond lone trees, The instant … Continue reading The Drear of Winter.
As when the shores collapsed, Through the depth in the given shores of vague death, I’d see it go beyond the moons that tided red, With their rims of eminence through the plated stars And that sobering wind that drew to the shallow, strange waters, Upon lonesome skins of the sea’s dressing and cloth Through … Continue reading Through the River.
And when the still heart begins, Upon the droplets of the eminent ocean That whisked dead moons, courtly, upon love, That been deaf as the tides and their faintly moments With sorrowful wind, moved. When the still heart begins, The dead moon could shine and sheen above, With rivers dead to the cold watchful sea, … Continue reading The Watchful Sea Beyond the Dead Moon.
Shadowed skies that plum. The heart of infants, a strum, Moved through bristles of walking wind Kissed the small valley dell, And I’d dwell through lonesome seas. I missed the dead tribunal moon, As it gazed above some deaf winds; Slipped through the river stream, With instant buds of a morning desire, And I’d wake … Continue reading Shadowed Skies That Plum.
With an alone eden from the moor beside The kisses of the shines of that muttering moon, And gently, proceeded by hysteria, was a moment To expire of ghostly dreams beyond the moans of tolling winds, And held to its breast was that trochee candle, That dimmed its fate to be. It is quite dead … Continue reading A Candle Lit.
A loss in a moment Of everything in time Like the whisk of the ocean Or a shy rock during the cold, As a lingering wind upon the ether; I was soon flushed by the moon, My lamp dim, As a candle light, The evening falls into a crescent Shaped moon that gleamed my window … Continue reading A Loss in a Moment.