laura-reinbach
English
I'd like to write some fancy and way-out bio about me - and inside my head, that's the person I am, but instead I'll say what it's real. I'm from Kent (a.ka. the Garden of England) but now study English and Creative Writing at Plymouth University. I LOVE music <3 <3 <3 especially rock and metal; my book collection is huge; I'm also a hopeless romantic, which is just as well because the man who stole my heart is just the same - and we met in the most unlikely of places - I'm also a bit of a worrier :/ for reasons I can't fathom. Otherwise, that's me in a sort-of nutshell.
The pale wind whispers to the dark heart,
the one who wears his feathers
more as guise than garment.
It carries him onward
to lead a blackened life
as the harbinger of doom
and servant to the hooded spectre.
The wind rises beneath colossal wings
that close over the unfortunate
like the silk lined coffin lid -
he is lifted ever higher
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
Crouching in the rotted dust,
Covers covet the light;
Dull, discoloured dust jackets
And wrinkled leather hides
Of the books that moulder and muse,
Ruminate and render themselves
To dust, as everything must,
Upon long-forgotten shelves.
Becomes the perfect breeding ground
For shadows, for sickness, for sin;
The ladies are seen to turn away
With tarnished faces and tattered gowns,
While the hero remains anonymous,
A nobody about the town.
A plot studded with lacunas
And paralysed on page one,
Words grown together in intimate embraces
Never to be undone.
Thin volumes of poetry
Shiver with the poison of years,
As passions freeze and snow falls in May –
The daffodils die a beautiful death,
The clouds are mottled and grey.
A teardrop hits the page.
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 2:00 PM UTC
Calm and cosy
Curled up in my cotton tomb,
Transported back to the womb,
Where I dreamt endlessly.
There I smelt my life
Imminent, timid,
But ****** and vivid;
Here it is different
And deadly.
My life reeks of decay
As it burns away;
I taste the ash of my lungs,
Anaesthetised, desensitized,
Stupefied and condemned.
Scorched by conflagration,
Numbed by smoke,
But I do not choke
Just sleep
And keep on dreaming.
My cotton tomb ablaze,
A-kindle and consuming,
Collapses while still fuming,
Swallows me as I slumber
Or so I thought.
My maid she came a-wandering,
A-wondering,
And saw me here a-slumbering
In my cotton tomb of fire.
I felt her drown my death,
Extinguish Hell,
Restore my breath,
And I awoke in a fit of passion,
‘Deuce take me, what has happened?’
The timid creature,
Like newborn life,
Stood trembling, as well as I,
But told the tale
From start to end.
I implored of her
To not say a word;
The events of which have occurred
Are our secret –
Instead I enclosed her in my arms
As rapture seized me in its jaws,
Dragged me back from Death’s door
And threw me at her feet.
I praised her long
My preserver, my protection,
Then let her shivering form go
In the wake of my affection.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
You want to see my blank stare
after death, tasting like metal,
came to meet me half-way?
The red on living canvas;
the rose blooming,
and the blue lips.
Hear the chambers drown my last,
after the thorns tore
my internal sails?
A drum beat fading,
the river slowing,
and no more.
Smell the claret stains,
my blush gone bittersweet
and reeking of ruby metal?
Adrift in the Red Sea
after the lead rain,
you can.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 3:25 PM UTC