Sporenza

Delicate fingers of a rosy dawn Brush over her windswept back, And scented drops of rain Stream upon her canyoned skin. My mind dances with gentle arctic curves Which glow as a crescent moon in the Midnight sunset. Stark white beauty and terror. Gentle eyes caress this landscape, And the mind becomes a picture. I wish I were in love. Rose tinted blood froths forth in Agonising cries and Resound across the gentle curves, Red capping snow white, Bathed with the most scintillating And shimmered of golden midnight rays. I wish I were love. This barren snow blessed land is mine, My gentle tundra, My crystal midnight sky. M

A Pale stolen sky searches for a          Lost winter moon.          Frosted wolves howl. Trudging through biting snow march          Only three men,          Each holding gifts of fire. "In which way should we march to our Lost Destination?" Follow the howl of frosted wolves Calling for a lost winter moon.          Failing feathers slowly drift                    And land          Tossing up the snow          Under hunting wolves' feet. We need water, and yet only find Solid and treacherous ice. Help us, we who wander in the frozen wastes With nothing but time-distanced stars to guide us. Pray for us who cirlce arou

Tauta heh deiva hubris esesthai ton telon ton panton. O Mother, O Gentle Nuturer, I fear I may have to die tonight... Embrace me when these rocks Of Earth are conquered by both Rushing water and flame. Cover my eyes. I wish not to hear. O Artemis...please, be kind to us. This air is brisk and sweet.          Infuse my breath.          Dance in my lungs and soul. Boulomai apotkeinein For that which was once strong is weak, And that which was once weak now Laughs, As a lunatic. O Athene...forgive us, please. This land is a sprawling desert of scarred and Scorced steel, The sand is nought but ash. Skulls with sheilds bran

These slivers of water softly glide Beneath this broken lance, Sending moon struck flowers, And sun tossed stars effortlessly into           Sun scorced laps. As with the mourning tempests that ravaged placid plains The previous scars are forgotten under a light           And delicate mist. It is oh so white, Oh so brief, Oh so beautiful. What daggers are these that pierce? And what hands are these that wish to grasp,           But only hold? From what dream were you born? From w

Quickly quickly turn around Quickly quickly touch the ground. Swiftly swifly hit your head, Swiftly swiftly go to bed. Silently silently shed your clothes, Silently silently stifle your moans. A thousand hands groping air, Looking for that little fairy, that Pentultimate symbol of innocence, Of hope of peace and of light, That left us sometime last year. With ten thousand closed kisses with open eyes ten thousand couples part. (Don't judge a poet on one poem) {Why not? Is it not his latest work that defines his work?} (Ah dammit...but my other stuff was so much for figurative. Now I'm having a bitch in prose form about the poe

For Emma Rings of gentle fire crawl from Crystal eyes half opened with adoration. With perfumed lips you smile, and the            First breaths Of life spread throughout the world. The trees of green and red embrace your sunlit Caresses.           Make this moment last.           Oh divine Muses, you sisters who see all, who know all           And who have the power to make time stand still in words,     

The closed eyes of the marble mask Suffer the spiteful vengeance Of one thousand flaming Furies, Their torn wings crying in the frosted air. Your gentle hands caress the storm As your eyes dance in the rain. The lightning gives only glimpses          Of your soft face,          But it is enough. From the brilliant flashes of pure white light I see you, and I see your eyes. We move together, in darkness lit by Claps of thunder. Take me to the river of drowned thoughts, So I might drown my own. Hold my hand, so I may not be swept away. Come in after me, and fire your poisoned arrows At those who betray our trust. Hold my ha

In your heart, you see only her. The way she dances upon the          Dew in the          Blest morning light, And the way that her skin so uniquely Embraces the soft moonlight... Her gentle breaths and sighs of melancholy Reduce to lakes of warmth... Until her heart stops, and you are          Cursed with freedom. And even then, still you see her In your heart.

The dull breeze swept through the stone corridor, its echo sending shivers down my spine. I forced myself to keep still. The wailing of ghouls would not break my concentration now. Brandon's eyes were as ice. They ceaselessly burned into mine, reading me as only the great warriors could read their enemies. The heat bore down upon us relentlessly. For a moment, I grinned. It was odd that despite everything, once again I was to come face to face with this man. I had risked drowning to escape him. I had battled vampires and faced death by burning. There is an irony in the will of the gods. I wondered if this was a punishment for my neglect to th