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Under a Witches SkyAnd lo there he said: "I am darkness rising"
— ‘an apparition bleeding into a dreaming sky
Distilled in the timbre of windswept voices,
black feathers enchant earth in fevered-song
Magick ebbs & shimmers thru earthen veins,
seething like a migration of hungry wolves
Silvery eyes peer, drinking the ether of souls;
watching the spirit world fold into the mists
And where Shadows and Witches conjure,
— myriad talons beshrew Winter’s prayer

For eons I hath wandered in forgotten lore
— a sleep walker thru ash & fire, hunting ..
Beneath Moon solemn and drifting,
I covet thy ghostly figure velvet, undressing
Pools of

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

Dandelion QueenI dream of the ocean;
that paper-thin line where
the current swallows the stars
and the water churns violet

(you tell me to be
quiet,

dandelion queen, we've
heard all these words before)

tonight
I will sleep heavy
and wake a few hours before dawn,
only to forget my name

my wave-weathered heart will cry,
I will cry (my biggest fear
is drowning in too many
of my own weighted words

you tell me to be
quiet
so I can hear the world breathe)

I want to go home

SpeakeasyI can feel you like a phantom,
sensation without touch,
like breath in winter
or a misty mountain morning
that stays with me
until the stars fall in evening.

Your eyes contain the secrets
your lips would dare to betray,
but your body tells the story
and I am trying
to read between the lines
of your paperback smiles.

A grazing touch, a covert glance,
the memories remain
as skin grows warm and red
beneath lying fingertips
that claim incidental contact
a thousand times a day.

Of course,
it's not the kind of thing we say
when we are speaking
without talking and feeling
without touching
and thinking without knowing...

all of the things

Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.

We Can't Be Together.Every kiss you plant on my lips,
Takes a little bit of my soul away.

You're stealing the passion,
You're invading my heart,
And killing what emotion I've left untouched.
Stop this.
I can't love you.

I've tried to before,
Oh my god,
Have I tried.

Tried to unlock the doors to myself,
Tried to open up,
And let you in.
But as soon as I took one look,
Negativity took it's opportunity,
And struck the hot iron I'd been molding.

Every word you mutter
My knees falter under
You're killing me

You're my kryptonite
I'm your paradise
But in this odd peace that seems to be approaching
I can't find happiness.

We aren't meant to be together
But this

Poet as PainterThe world
Your dusty palette,
The pen
Your muddied paintbrush:

Dip into
The impossible
Colour
Of imagination

And stain
The pristine slate
With an
Image distilled.

WindowsHere am I, repeated,
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.

I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze

like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.

Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;

safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.

Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high

above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.

I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devo

BoyfriendI thought you were good.

You WERE good.

You played with my hair.

You held me when I cried.

You were a gentleman.

You made me laugh.

You kissed me.

You loved me.

I loved you.

It was then that I learned the truth.

The dirty, rotten, stinking truth.

About you!

You cheated.

You played with her hair.

You kissed her.

You loved her.

You made her laugh.

I saw you – don’t you dare deny it.

I saw you giving her that love.

That same love you gave me.

I break up with you.

You don’t even seem to care.

Did you ever love me at all?

Or was it only ever her?

Much later, you’ll realize what a mistake you made.

I

He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint

You Don't Know ItYou don't know it, but you kept me sane
I nearly went over the edge
With a knife in one hand and a gun in the other
But you grabbed me
Pulled me back on my own two feet
Emptied my hands
And when you realized that I couldn't stand on my own
You hugged me
Like a mother would do for her child
Like a friend would do for, dare I say, another friend

You don't know it, but when you saved me
I felt free
I felt wanted
I felt needed
I felt, dare I say, loved

You don't know it, but when you showed me kindness
I fell in love
In love with your kindness
That same sweet kindness you saved me with
It felt like I found a new home
One that I could be, dare

Pull Her Hair/Stare At The StarsThe ghosts have crashed their ship
on the other side of town,
you can see it from the second floor
all the way over here.
You can see the white clouds
rising from the wreck
and a nova of heat, a big bright
nova of warmth pulling the moths and wolves
out from the woods (with their noses up and searching).
You can smell the yearning like bees
leaving the hive, like the grizzly brown bears
on the jagged white mountains (concrete and imposing).
They call it fear,
but I see these ghosts
scrambling up into the sky
and I like to think it's
something different entirely.

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CoinsOne, save for the money
Is not really worth your time,
Two, even with the pity
Is never something I would do.

Your words say yes
But your heart says no,
Your heart says yes
When your soul cries no…

It's the very one
You never could say
That you miss the most.

You'll never tell me
And I'll never tell them
But I already know
The secret written on
Your invisible face.

Beneath a mask of stone,
You think no one really knows,
And you're right-
They don't.

Black UmbrellaYou cannot judge anyone
More or less…
Can't tell if their pain is
More or less…
Than your own.

In your lifetime,
There is only
ONE PERSON
who feels pain…

That person is you.

You cannot feel anyone else's,
And they can never feel yours.

I'll never let anyone
Take that away from me,
It's mine.

I've earned it…
Each and every stripe,
White ghostly bands
Dancing across pale skin.

And I love it.

Pain, like an umbrella,
Spreads and spreads
Once you open it
Like a wound
It just stays open,
Staring at you
With invisible eyes,
So wide…

Looming like some
Long lost dark shadow,
There.

Water dripp

InadequateUnwanted and unloved by all…
Tossed away,
Disregarded, ignored,
REJECTED.

Seeking to find my beloved,
I know that person…
They have to be out there somewhere.

Lost within a dream,
Rushing just to find me
But they never will;
They can't.

Because I'm trapped.

Locked away in this hell,
The one you've designed for me
It's sicked and twisted
And so much like you.

And here I know what I am;
I am ugly, bitter and torn,
Never good enough.

Screaming in this…
Silent sort of way, in this…
World where I can't live,
Can never find any sort of
Validation,
Neither comfort nor rest.

Missing so much…

The one

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Submitted: August 23, 2012
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Feast Of Souls

by =KalineReine, Aug 23, 2012, 12:10:51 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Ultimately, I just want to feel better...
Why don't I feel better?

Loathing each memory, as it comes passing;
Seeping through the hollow air.

Dining on lost souls,
Until I can't feel a thing.

One by one...
Alone.

Feast Of Soulsby =KalineReine

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

...

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~Lightfeathy555 Sep 15, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Oh, you are so amazing at writing, I just fail...

Don't worry, we people on dA will always hang around. ;3

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=KalineReine Sep 15, 2012 Professional Writer

Awww, thank you.

That's so sweet. I'm sure you don't fail. I used to be really awful.

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~Lightfeathy555 Sep 16, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

No problem, Yes, I do fail(XDD), and really??? I wouldn't think so....

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=KalineReine Sep 17, 2012 Professional Writer

Yep. My really old stuff is pretty terrible.

Reply

~Lightfeathy555 Sep 21, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Actually, I like it!!! ^^'

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=KalineReine Sep 21, 2012 Professional Writer

Awww, thank you...

Reply

~Lightfeathy555 Sep 21, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

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=KalineReine Sep 21, 2012 Professional Writer

Reply

Mood: Wow!

~Arrol-Lal Sep 10, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

wow.

this is AWESOME

its better than my crappy poem about waffles.

Reply

=KalineReine Sep 10, 2012 Professional Writer

Thank you, I'm glad you like it. And waffles are yummy!

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