I like the lycianthes there, although I know they’re weeds
I like their pleasant purple hues, and watercolor leaves.
The Daffodils were simple things; yellow, later white,
Little puffs of breeze-borne smoke, ethereal at night.
The wild briers stabbed at me, as I walked out that day,
And yet they were the first to bring the green into the gray
I like the weeds, though others don’t, I realized it just now.
And to think I only realized it under an arbor’s bough.
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
The fall swept down on dragon's wings,
Whisking a world into flame.
The frost-winds flew,
As the coldness grew,
Giving the trees all a fiery mane.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
Night, star-spangled,
Heralding an absent dawn,
Grave, then gray, then gone.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 1:33 PM UTC
"We are dealing with oppressors who, while standing on our necks, will label us the aggressors if we spit blood upon their boots."
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
Broke my piggy bank for whisky,
Turned my jump rope into a noose,
And then I wrestled with my demons.
They got loose.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC
He was old and cold and strong and hard
With a bitter contemptuous jaw
Fierce, wrathful, unkind as any,
With anger and hate and rage against many
No warmness beat inside his heart, nor kindness, neither fear
For gods or man, and at his wake, I saw none shed a tear.
He went to extremes, and convinced us he was bad,
But underneath all that anger, I think he was just sad.
Sad and lonely and empty, and drowning in grief,
From living a life that was pointless and brief.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
I loved her a lot,
She didn't quite care
But my heart still beat blood
And my lungs still breathed air
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 12:06 PM UTC
I sing a song of time gone by
When the woods were a better-known place.
You laughed and walked through grey-green glades
And heard the trees reply
With rustling branch and open leaves
Splayed to a vernal sky.
The rain ensorced the ground to bloom
With faery rings of new mushrooms,
And violets peeping through the gloom,
In circles off the path.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
Brave I am, an errant knight
With bold and courtly banners.
I ride untouched through many lands
In times of many manners.
My shining sword, my glinting helm
Are well and ready-made.
I plan to make a name for me,
My strength shall never fade.
O' Lancelot, O' Beowulf,
Know not to challenge me!
For I'm a knight of great renown,
Soon better known than thee.
Achilles-King, O' Saint Sir George,
Hear well my prowess cry!
For I am young and bold, my lord,
While you were doomed to die.
I ride with shield and ready sword
through deep enchanted glen
Or else I go, defiance bared,
Through dark and gloomsome fen.
Tonight, upon a happenstance,
I faced a dragon's fire.
I charged and bore my lance to him
And he gave me a pyre.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC
The beast swept down from mountains cold
Shimmering-red and brazenly bold
Belching out flame which was scarlet and gold,
When the dragon came down on the town.
No one knew what had awoken this ire
But they knew well enough from whence came the fire,
For soon all the world was a funeral pyre
Now ashes where once was a town.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC