William Allen

William Allen Jan 2019

It cut through the fog
the ever distant yellow glow.

Hints of red, dancing
between the corruscating beams of amber.

Resplendent light, so warm
and inviting,
surely had never been seen
like this before.

That light which broke through
the thickness of fog and tree
met my worn and tired face.
Filling each crease and fold with
a sense of exuberance.

The yellows & reds danced
joyously and how,
oh how I wondered
about their home.

Which surely must be
a hearth below a mantle.

This is part III of a ten-part series titled, "Effulgence: A Story of Light."

I wanted to create something that really captured the idea of light playing more than just the role of illumination.

Enjoy.

#effulgence #light #introspection #reflection #isolation #hope

William Allen Jan 2019

Emptiness

It is but a somber feeling.
The lonely heart that yearns
for companionship.

Creating such a haze
amidst the trees.
I now wonder blind
&
lost.

The thinly veiled purple of night
draws nigh
absent of light.

My eyes not adjusted
to the deafening dark.

Oh! loss & hearts refrain
how I breathe with disdain
The cold that leaves the air
so still, unforgiving, & unfair.

This is part II of a ten-part series titled, "Effulgence: A Story of Light."

Enjoy

#effulgence #light #reflection #introspection #isolation #solitude

William Allen Jan 2019

Isolation

Stones & bramble branches
break
under each step I take.

The smell of forest
& of damp earth
fills the chilled air.

Bark from trees bites
deep into my hands.

Steril wind cuts through emerald green pines.
The oiled needles brushing side by side.

The very breath I need
I can't seem to find.
I fear this forest has stripped me
of that prize.

Yet, I continue on. Forward, though lost.
I make my way.

In isolation, day by day.

This is part I of a ten-part series titled, "Effulgence: A Story of Light."
My goal is to create five or so ten-part stories and eventually put them into a collection wherein I can publish a physical work. The idea for this particular story came shortly after I was halfway through writing "Weathered."

I hope you enjoy.

#effulgence #light #reflection #introspection #isolation

William Allen Jan 2019

The Hymnal For Three

And so the sea, she claimed three.

Taking the Mariner, Maiden, & unborn babe.

Together they shall live
in the cold currents.

Ne'er being separate
E'ermore.

For when the sea calls,
the heart must listen.

Giving itself wholly
to the cold and unforgiving tide.

And the sea she sang
a hymnal for thee
a hymnal for three.

Together in the harmony
of the cold
and unforgiving tide.

And the sea she sang
a hymnal for thee
a hymnal for three.

This is part X of a ten-part series titled, "Weathered: A Tale of Love and Loss." This is the final poem of this ten-part series, and I hope that you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing and sharing it with you. If you have any questions about any of the pieces written, or where inspiraition came for each piecce, please reach out to me and I will gladly answer. If oyu would like to see the original format of these pieces, you may find them on instagram at: @speakertyler

Thank you.

#weathered #love #loss #mariner #maiden #sea #despair #hymnal

William Allen Jan 2019

The Sinking Heart

In the sudden moments
her heart sank
one-thousand leagues
into the sea of tears.

The yearning aching heart
beat violently in her chest.

Hands trembling
she reached
outward
for the oil lamp dimly lit.

The slow clapping of bare feet
against those aged cherry floors.

Her delicate hand
pushed open the finished oak door
that led to their sanctuary.

The door,
with all the worlds hope
&
despair behind it
opened.

She gathered her
ivory white slip
and made her way to the shore

The cold rush of the November tide
met her at waist height.

The weight of her despondent heart
would be enough to hold her down.

Waist
Shoulders
The top of her auburn hair.

Her footsteps
now but distant memories
of the sand.

Her body now one with the sea.

This is part IX of a ten-part story titled, "Weathered: A Tale of Love and Loss."
When writing this story, I knew from the beginning that I did not want a happy ending. Not for the sake of being sad, but rather because I'm not fond of traditional happy endings in stories. I feel like the weight of the story loses some gravity when it's happy at the end.

#love #loss #despair #weathered #mariner #maiden #sea

William Allen Jan 2019

The Beacon, Part II

The fire in the belly of the mantle
lowly roars.
With it, the harmony of the beacon.

Though, as with all great scores, there must be an end.

When the last line of the melody is played
and the final note clings to the air
then decays.

As did the beacon so.
Drawing its last breath
and light slipping unto the dark.

With hurried steps
the Maiden makes her climb
Through the cherry staircase
onward and upward
the tower.

Falling, with all of the world's weight,
she weeps.
Her tears darkening the floorboards
like black ink on a yellow stained page

She could feel the call.

This is part VII of a ten-part story titled "Weathered: A Tale of Love and Loss." When creating this story early on, I really wanted to have a section that contained two parts. I felt that using the beacon in this instance would be to the advantage of the story.

#love #loss #weathered #mariner #maiden #beacon #despair

William Allen Jan 2019

The Letter

My dearest Olivia,

I write this letter with a heavy heart and yet, an even heavier hand. This vessel takes on water as I blot these old pages with ink. I hold your memory close as flame to a well-oiled wick. Cherishing our fondest moments spent together, and letting them keep me warm in this frigid cold.

The way your ivory slip would rest on your shoulders so delicately as we strolled through the fields of home. How the wind would gently pass through your deep flowing auburn hair, and how sweetly I would tuck the free-flowing strands behind your ears.

I desperately yearn to be back home by your side in the comfort of our chamber, with my hand interlaced with your hair, as the glorious yellow rays seep through our window and slowly fill the room with luminous light.

We shall be together soon, I fear not. And I shall wait to see your hurried steps on heavens golden shores. Weep not for me or for this loss. The sea is beckoning me home.

I hope this letter finds you. I love you,

-W.A.

This is part VII of a ten-part story titled, "Weathered: A Tale of Love and Loss." I wanted to break poetic structure of the story a bit and create a love letter that was believable between the two characters, for the reader. Here's to hoping that I did that for you.

Enjoy

#love #loss #weathered #mariner #maiden #sea #hope #despair