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A lonesome figure stood upon the crashing waves
Extended arms to the darkest skies
Screaming out her fury at the heavens above
For the bitter storms she had survived

Tears streamed from weary eyes so tired of battle
Small shoulders shook in agony
Cursing the very things that made her stronger
As this, she could not see

Why me? She moaned and wailed in a mournful tone
Hot fear still gripping her heart
While forgetting that she was alive and well to cry
The most incredibly, important part

Those bitter storms will come and they will pass
They will never stay too long
Remember when you are screaming out in fury
It is The Storms that make you strong
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
Softly beckoning she draws you into her silken mist
You quietly plead, but cannot resist
Deeply mesmerized by burning emerald eyes
How they so demandingly insist

Your own gaze is firmly held by her fiery jewels
Drawing you into her silken mist
Keep holding your steady ground while you can
  Knowing always, that you must persist

Lonely voices call from within the folds of mist
Swirling round her beckoning stance
Warning you to continue holding your steady ground
Do not accept her inviting call to dance

Oh woe to he who dances here in the silken mist
His heart will ever roam within the folds
Dancing in shadows with hearts who could not resist
Emerald eyes, burning with fiery cold
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Changefulstorm
 Sep 2010 kdpgrahi
Paula Swanson
Our life together reaches its painful end.
We both grew weary of the daily grind.
Our early years were filled with romance and love,
so if you could, for us, this one last time.....

Wake me with a rose, gliding over my skin.
Let its perfume, gently blend with your scent.
Kiss me sweetly, let it linger on my lips.
Love me with a passion, till our bodies are spent.

I will sigh and rest my head upon your chest,
dreamily listening to the beat of your heart.
As I rise to leave you, for the last time,
send me away with a love song, as we part.
The Raven Queen came from simple country roots
No royal silver spoon did she carry
Raised by unpretentious witches holding great wisdom
Old Gertrude, Esmeralda and Tregarry

Three witches known as spiritual leaders of the valley
Of lowly peasants and abundant woods
Raised her up simply infused with a fiery spirit
Proclaiming the law of the land to be good

Two faces reigned within the leaders and peasants
One which was shown to The Law
The other kept hidden as they lowly bowed to the wind
Praising the moon and icy snow as it thawed

A tale of hidden woe these three leaders carried
Unbeknown to the Raven Queen
Of her true heritage and the tainted gold they kept
From the night Old Death intervened

Old Death quietly crept in on her birthing night
Stole her sweet mother away
Yet for a fee the wise leaders took her in to love
Knowing who she would be one day

An eager student their young queen became
Learning the wisdom of the truth
Quite an apprentice in the ways of the wind
She became early in her youth

All at once the fiercest Winter ever known to the valley
Brought in terrible winds and bitter snow
The young queen watched as the peasants trembled
As savage wolves entered their fold

Great hunger came to the valley along with Old Death
Dissension was called into play
Soon, each of the leaders knew the time had come
To teach her the dark side of their ways

She was pulled from light into the darkest shadows  
To embrace her own true destiny
Her dark light shone through the woods and the valley
Bringing the savage wolves to bay

Fear of the Raven Queen’s light spread from the valley
Coursing through the veins of The Law
Sending in fierce horsemen thundering with vengeance
Her own lifeblood they came to draw

She answered their thundering with her own call
Heads for heads, raging fire with ice
Saving the ones who took her under their wings
Returning their tainted gold at a price
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Changefulstorm

*My version of an old tale...............
 Sep 2010 kdpgrahi
Sunpreet Arora
With empty hands, the scared souls
Are dead inside like broken bones
With plastic dreams, the shattered ones
Are done believing that there's life alone

Its hard to believe there's more to life
when the skies turn tragic *****


When you're living in the world so high
with things unworthy of attention
There's none better than to embrace death
For it seems the only solution
Coz those who tread the path of life
are usually sacrificed and

Its hard to believe there's more to life
when the skies turn tragic *****


The sun would wilt your soul
The wind would stunt your growth
The earth would hold your arms
until they aren't yours anymore

Its hard to believe there's more to life
when the skies turn tragic *****


With nothing more left to say
the silent have acceded the throne
Those who were in the battle of speech
have been the ones who've gone
For life is a struggle to death coz

**Its hard to believe there's more to life
when the skies turn tragic *****
 Jul 2010 kdpgrahi
Angela
You say I talk in riddles
That raddle your brain
You think I live an illusion
and border on insane

I say so be it sweetheart
call me what you may
but remember you contribute
to my insanity each and everyday

I am a silly dreamer
a sort of crazy clown
and when you try to trap me
It makes me wear a frown

This you know just won't work
I must be happy , I must be myself
and if I can not in this world built for two
I shall do it alone, in my mind, safe from you

I can't be normal, no matter how I try
and everytime you attept to make me
a little more I die
I am tired of trying,  and realize so true
I don't want to be normal .....I don't want to be you
Glass upon glass.
Shattered and ground
Into a powder so fine
It will seep into his veins.
She takes special care not to cut herself as
She spreads the deadly dust upon his side of the bed.
He enters the room.
Sheds his clothes,
And gives her a kiss.
He tastes of Her.
He smells of Her.
Settling into bed, he turns off the light.
In the dark, she smiles.
You know what they say about a woman scorned?
They don't know the half of it.
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