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PurplePanache Oct 2018
Day hums his favourite tune
An octave of perfect rhyme
Oh but closely do listen
A cacophony of azures
Or even a shade of white
Or black
Like a fringe of lace on a firm shore, although cold
Like a blaring orb, glaring
Yet ignored
And yet burning into souls

Oh but around do look
Whites and blacks have greys too.
PurplePanache Nov 2017
A memoir

His eyes, blue and glaring,

Are fixed on my feet,

I struggle and I twitch,

I cry and I plead.



Looking up, he smiles,

A crescent on his lips,

Uncertainty washes my hair,

Blood, my tongue.



‘Oh, don’t do this,’ I beg,

Tears tinge my cheeks,

A laugh escapes the crescent,

And it opens to speak.



‘I promise I won’t hurt you,

Do come to me,’

He kisses my neck and hands,

But for all, I can’t feel.



I look down at the world,

I look up at him,

On his edge, I stand, I could fall into his arms,

Maybe it wasn’t a whim



A step forward he takes, apology on his face,

A nudge on my back,

Ooh…I’m flying, but he pushed me the same,

I swear , I really do, that I didn’t run.
PurplePanache Nov 2017
I ran and I ran
Trampling Anna’s strawberry field
The earth groping my heart
Naught beneath
The wind as it breathes
Panting against
The faint scent
Of strawberries
And I ran and I ran
Along the scent
Eyeing that orb
Gauging out some sky
Oh and the sky
Gazing and warning
Gently reminding
Consequences of an untimely return
Oh and time
From whom I rush
My dearest foe
My despised friend
And the strawberries,
Their sickly sweet
And their scarlet light
My eyes burn, they sting
Oh, but I must
So I run and I run
Till by a ridge, I fall
My head strokes the rock
And in the ache, I think
Of Anna’s little strawberry field
That though I ran,
I wish I’d just stood,
And breathed, some sickly sweet.
PurplePanache Oct 2018
I wrote a poem once
A harbinger of my arrival
Soil drowned in ink
I watched it gasp for brearh
Soil drowned in blood
A harbinger of my departure
I wrote a poem once.
this poem can be read downwards or upwards-or even both. It is cyclic
PurplePanache Nov 2017
among the skies a streak of light

a blade of snow, a flake of grass

a shard of glass in my breath

a shard of glass in my breath

and her pair of placid lips

her gentle eyelids, locked in embrace

let her go, but i must

let her go, i must

my lips i lay against hers

blowing in a wisp of breath

a shard of glass in my breath

a shard of glass in my breath

and as her eyelids haggardly delay

where Moonlight shyly kisses waters

my love alone, i placed

in the safest haven i know

let her go, but i have

let her go, i have

love, we shall meet

i whisper to her soul

i hustle along

my breath a shard of glass



time, it isn’t yet

but i know what is

for us to reunite

stand against but they

against my harmless bias

but alas, i have desires

and from my grieving land

with my love, i elope

they may mourn tomorrow

but why i do not grasp

when they call me creator

and she, my creation.
PurplePanache Nov 2017
among the skies, a streak of light

a blade of snow, a flake of grass

a shard of glass in my breath

a shard of glass in my breath

and her pair of placid lips

her gentle eyelids, locked in embrace

let her go, but i must

let her go, i must

my lips i lay against hers

blowing in a wisp of breath

a shard if glass in my breath

a shard of glass in my breath

and as her eyelids haggardly delay

where Moonlight shyly kisses waters

my love alone, i placed

in the safest haven i know

let her go, but i have

let her go, i have

love, we shall meet

i whisper to her soul

i hustle along

my breath a shard of glass



time, it isn’t yet

but i know what is

for us to reunite

stand against but they

against my harmless bias

but alas, i have desires

and from my grieving land

with my love, i elope

they may mourn tomorrow

but why i do not grasp

when they call me creator

and she, my creation.
PurplePanache Oct 2018
Oh the devil hath found
                                          Interpreting perverse anomalies
Oh the devil hath found
                                         May you sphacelate you worthless antiquity
Oh the devil hath found
                                You reek of cigarettes and unfrequented deliriums
Oh the devil hath found
                                          What pandemonium!

Oh the devil hath found
                                           An oasis in a wasteland
Oh the devil hath found
                                           A humanoid dichotomy
Oh the devil hath found
                                        A sought after moral wreck
Oh the devil hath found
                                           Love.



........................................................­.........................
....Que le diable et son amant se chargent........
................................................­.................................
PurplePanache Apr 2020
april, lilac-breathed
settles like balm
onto freshly broken skin

wounds left by happiness
as she swallowed like a forgotten flower
into the tongue of the night.

moonsets at bedsides
voluptuous bodies
of uninvited clouds
locking skies within their lips.

fields of forgotten flowers.

my, the suffering we endure for the truths we tell and the lies we don't.
suffering is the light at the end of the tunnel of happiness?
april=current phase of life=suffering=balm=soothing for wounds
wounds?
yes, wounds.
wounds= happiness biting the night+night=another phase of life

moonset=night over=phase of life over

clouds=memories
skies=new day
PurplePanache Oct 2018
As day and night would've wearily thought
Through vanilla hours of sour bright
A glimpse, each time, they catch
Of certain kinds of artistry
Only a minute, they get, to behold
Certain kinds of artistry

The gossipy wind whispers tales
Of Day and Night, the mourning pair
As she lulls the mighty world
And he gently rouses it
And Fate to swab away the flush of their cheeks
But Day and Night, they only live
For that glimpse, at break of dawn
PurplePanache Oct 2018
Hang me out to dry
Kind lady of the house
Watch me under golden skies
Smouldering to ashes

Some cheerful fire it shall be
Smiling as it burns
The words will burn
(for that is what I am made of)
It is all I am made of

Your eyes will glimmer
In the blaze
(they may even burn)

So hang me out to dry
Kind lady of the house
But please don't set me to fire
PurplePanache Oct 2018
The sky glares at my form
                            beneath
                        ­            the
                                       stars
i let the wind ****** my hair
as he gossips away of his ex lovers, the shrubs
(although i know he loves them more)
if blackness was a song, i wish i could play it
but violins have feelings too

I am the veil of the moon
I am Light
Her darkness I hide in scratches of pen
I slither soundlessly among hives and chirps(aviaries, if you know what I mean)
But the words, oh the words
they will not let me go, they are Loud
Like the roars of a tumultuous ocean
Like the fury of a thunder struck sky
Like the silence of Love and the silence of Death
They are loud

I am the Ballad of the Bat Orchid
I am the Ballad of all things dark
And here I am to stay
Here I am to stray
PurplePanache Nov 2017
Sweet lil' sleeping son o’ mine

God’s yellow face will soon rise

Glowing at us in glistening gold

Shooting strands from His fiery eyes



But even then, keep your eyelids closed

For despite his mighty blaze

The morn today is cold and rough

And far far away from his hold



Where you are now, dear child

Is Never land and safe and home

So keep those eyelids shut tight

And forget the world, forget Him…
PurplePanache Apr 2018
Light is the only place where dark ceases to be

.............................................................­.................


the  world

it’s like moonlight

if it goes dark we’d see

pairs of eyes

glaring

dead.

the wind, she mutters

a soliloquy

her words burn

like ice in throat

like tongue

on papercut

fingers dipped

in green

sleep, thou nature’s dearest nurse

take over me

kiss my eyelids kiss my fears

kiss my breath

the wind, she’s cold

moon, like a brooch

smiles

from the breast of heaven

the wind, she mutters a soliloquy

she promises to take me there

with all the rest

of humanity.
PurplePanache Nov 2017
To a good day finale

To the reticent night that invades

O’ invader, keep me in thine dreams

O’ invader, envisage my pleas

Toast

To silent shrieks

To amnesiac reminiscence

To living dead

Find me in thine breath

Those ashen fumes

Where I board

And o’ I’ll stay

Among these shards

And cigarette smoke

Keep me in thine dreams

Keep me in thine dreams….
PurplePanache Nov 2018
The cold sun spits into the face of Day
His icy hands ***** my ****** soul
Come night, with thine desires, black and clean
Come night, with thine dreams, ruthless and sweet
The cold sun spits into the face of Me
PurplePanache Oct 2018
Rain laughs mirthlessly
As sun burns his gory smile
A Dreamer will die
my first haiku
PurplePanache Nov 2017
through misty nights and starless skies,

those years by the kitchen sink,

or pancaked mornings, burning bright,

sit we would, over a drink,

over childhood days and childless hearts,

upon tears over us or prettier things,

caught your gaze, once or twice

when Mary chased me over to a scary brink

of what, now, I fail to recall

as I fail to recall many links

remember, when once, on a green afternoon

you lulled in sleep over chicken wings,

and now I lie among roses ******,

for Johns, Coopers and other things

and now we can be forever friends,

and forever lean by kitchen sinks.
PurplePanache Oct 2018
The stars are quiet
But sometimes we like to talk
Now and then I shine

— The End —