April is National Poetry Month

I have been writing poetry as long as I can remember. It is part of who I am. I think my love for it started when I saw that my mother writing in these green journals. She told me that once she was gone I could read them. She is still with me so they are still a mystery to me. But still I write filling journals and binders of my own. I normally write a bit dark but that is what calls to me. As I write this post it makes me think of all of the cocoa, soda (Pepsi), and of course a good cup of tea.

I can’t think of a time when I was making up stories and daydreaming of mysterious world and ways to get there. But poetry has always been away for me to deal with a lot of things. Even if it took me several drafts to get something that was okay enough to call poetry. Does make me think that maybe I should post a few poems this month. I will have to make the decision of new or old ones. Will give me a lot to think about in the days to come.

 

Fayte

Witch’s Book

On a stand in the center o the tower

Is the best kept secret of the witch world

A book of magick that has been lost

For centuries

A lot of mysteries and knowledge

That many think is fantasy

Cause the book has never been found

Until now

It is bound in deep amethyst velvet

With a silver pentagram on the cover

There are ribbons the mark

Special secrets

Pale cream pages

With faded black ink

In several different scripts

That re just waiting to be decoded

Willing to bring the magick back

To those who will hold it sacred

Pass it on to the next generation

Never to be lost again

Dangerous Girl

Your eyes fall upon her

Her body covered in leather

Your mind is screaming

She is the kind of girl your mother warned you about

A dangerous girl….dangerous girl

She’s the type of girl

Who enjoys a little pain

Mixed in with her version of fun

To get her blood pumping

Her eyes flashing darkly

The ebon smirk on her lips

Gives a glimpse

Inside of her soul

It is wild and untamable

Holding tight to her freedom

She will never allow it to be taken

For that is one thing she will fight for

Now matter the price it will cost her

So beware

Danger is on its way

Taking all that she wants

Demanding what is hers by right

Expecting nothing less

That is just the way

She views life

Think you are man enough

To live in her world

Even for a single moment

In all that wildness

That is her way of life.

Not Even Death

It is dark music that calls

To her from beyond

The screaming of his bow on the strings

Whimpering melody of eternity

The promise of love

And its tight embrace

One that will not vanish with time

Not even death can rip or tear us apart

Souls linked by silver threads of fate

Bringing lovers together

Wrapping them in sweet darkness

The cradle of passion’s arms

It is true and magickal

The tears of relief

To have her close

Back where she belongs.

Death’s Daughter

Hair black as a moonless night

With highlights of spectral white

Eyes scarlet as the blood moon full

No soul can escape their pull

Skin as pale as fresh cream

Enough to even make a ghost scream

Dressed in leather

The color of a raven’s feather

She carries the scythe blade

In the dark of the underworld made

When you come across this grim

Your future is rather dim

Be warned, it’s your time for the other side

She is now your deadly guide

Now that your soul has been reaped

To the River Styx deep

Welcome to your place of rest

You are now Death’s Guest….

Bloom of the Black Rose

Born of ebon light

That only blooms in the darkest of midnight

The rarest of flowers

That will never wither

Petals like velvet

 

The black rose

A symbol of eternal night

That shall go on

No more fear of the end

Only of tomorrow

 

This gives hope to all

Who walk and stalk

The endless night

For all time

Never to look back

 

Walking in the twilight garden

There in the center

In all their glory

The grandest of all relics

Blackest black rose

 

It will bloom on

In the heart and soul

Of the children

So that we never forget

Our origins

AWAKENING

 

 

In the dead of the night

A cloak of enchantment

Drifts over the world

Allowing the unseen to be unveiled

 

Come walk the eerie and bewitching pathways

That leads you through the cemetery

To say it is haunted

Is morbid, but all to true

 

See each grave, tomb, and mausoleum

Each headstone and engraving….RIP

Does little justice to the life contained within

For there is more than skeletons here…but what?

 

Secrets…what kinds of secrets?

One of grisly things

Or one of pain

Some not meant to be kept

 

Shhh….

Hear the bells in the distance

The witching hour is upon us

Midnight…

 

Do you hear their otherworldly voices?

Strange, spooky, and supernatural

Their incantations whispered around the cauldron

In the woods beyond the cemetery’s gates

 

Will you keep going?

Knowing out right

The full moon

Will not always illuminate your path

 

Will you venture on?

Even under the dark moon

Or go back to the safety

Of your home

 

For you will never be sure

Of what you will encounter

Ghouls or goblins

Or the Grim Reaper

One day he will come for us all

Lantern in one hand

Scythe in the other

An empty hourglass around his neck

 

Out of time

The only sure thing in life

Leaving us in ruin

The casket is closing….too soon

 

JR

2015