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 Sep 2018 Paula Lee
Poetic T
I'm a wondering soul,
      That has no footsteps
To call my own.  

All you step is on imprints
                           Of the past,
Showing  you the right steps to take...
 Oct 2015 Paula Lee
Poetic T
blooded petals soar
vanquished fallen she honours
hair flows like crimson
 Aug 2015 Paula Lee
Sally A Bayan
(When The Rains Come)

Our house stands on a valley
early summer evenings find people strolling
specially when the sky is arrayed with countless stars,
and a full moon cooperates with a glow

Who wouldn't want a rain-less evening?
no rush...walking easy on a Friday or Saturday night
finding ways to unwind....glasses tingle in toasting
conversation and laughter fill the air...

In parts of the valley shielded by bridges and walls
there live the troubled, homeless souls
they, too, want to breathe the evening air
they leave their improvised homes
find dark spaces, where they turn bolder
some toughened...almost numbed
their litanies, held within
their eyes, beyond shedding tears
their faces stained with sadness and frustration
due to failed expectations

Around these dark spaces
are where callous eyes meet wary looks
where angels mingle with demons
where, most times, indifference wins
against compassion.

Twice,
i met the dauntless, black eyes of an old woman
i almost dropped mine, to avoid the stare
but she tapped my elbow...i looked up again.

Both of my shoulders would not suffice
to ease the burden this old woman carried
how do we deal with a problem that always starts but doesn't end?
how? when most turn their faces, their backs, their thoughts away,
because, there's nothing spectacular to see, or be expected
just more unpleasant things to come up.

The rains have finally come...our valley
most often, turns into a gully
where it seems to be raining forever.
i think of the old woman with black eyes
if she's still around, could she be hungry? wet again?
shivering from the cold rain?
where could she be seeking shelter
now that summer
is finally over?


Sally

Copyright May 23, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
 Aug 2015 Paula Lee
PrttyBrd
Your beautiful soul deserves
so much more
than my shadows
8815
10w
 Aug 2015 Paula Lee
Poetic T
"Where are they, I only need one,

The crystalized woods were a sight to be seen
During the moonlight
Refracted of the shaded leafs, and a
thousand night rainbows bounced,
Leapt from each. Like light sewn into each branch it was
A sight to behold.

"Where are they, I can't be late the moon still shines,

This was the only time to catch one, to bestow
My need, but they were as fragile as
Fall's pilgrimage
When the woods were a dangerous place.
But worth to others the time, as the leafs passed their
Moment and fell shattering into shards upon the floor
To capture the essence that spilled upon the bladed grass
That where the splinters of leaves now fallen.
Not rigid and sharp as before but now descended
They were like silk upon the floor.

"I see you,
"At last so many falls I have waited,
"Where is my net,*

I delicately wonder, footsteps gently hide my approach,
It flies with trials of evanescent light,
Hypnotic in its short trails,
But when so many flutter before my eyes
Pictures emerge as if knowing my minds thoughts.

"It cant be they show me her,
"She is cold, so cold,
"I only need one,
"I call out regrettably,

Drop what was meant for one,
They scatter into the chandler of leaves
But there one stays I approach.

I talk softly to it out of reach.

"She entered during the falling,
"She never knew of the dangers of what descended,
"But upon skin she did graze,
"Her skin now translucent,
"The forest calls for here,
"Now the crystal makes her blood cold,

I look in silence, as it trails upon fresh breezes,
Then a few approach a crystal glistens behind each,
One lands upon my soft palm.

I feel its light penetrate warmth upon my appendages,
As I was filled with a warmth.
It turns as if to usher me too grasp upon its light,
I gently turn, as if it were paper the crystal fly
Becomes like ash tears then with trials following
It's lost fading, waning into the wind,

"I never knew,
"An existence any life lost,
"Even for a noble cause,
"I will remember this moment in word,

I ran through the forest of crystalized light,
My heart pounding against my ribs
As if to tell me to go faster,
I reach the home of a love missed.
  
"Darling I am home,

I call out in urgency.

"Is she still with us,
"Were my troubles in vain,

"No she waits with treads of breath left,
"The forest calls here stronger now,

I glance off the walls, steps like water splash
Upon each footstep, I reach the door

"She is their,
"She is nearly lost,
"She is my love,

I put the essence of what lived, but now in the winds.
Lips caress its warmth and it falls like a stone
In a well, I wait hesitantly on my breath,
I speak,

"Please life given restore what is nearly lost,
Please,
Please,
Ple.....

As what was translucent, pigment
Became once more. Where breath was a trail of light
Like a cold mornings breath,
Now fading into night.
She had come back to me,
I told her the moments that had secured her life,
And a single tear fell,
But not a normal one birthed from regret,
As it danced on the floor.

"What is this that descended a single tears shell,
"It is a crystal tear egg,

We walked in the day time days had pasted,
Taking this tear egg pulsing since once fell.

"Here my love where life gave you a chance of breath,

In to the flowing crystal cloth grass it was set,
As it wrapped, entangled upon it,
Then a light shone for a moment.
A tiny light floated up, and new life was birthed,
New light now graced this forest of crystal.

"Life had given us life,
"Now essence was returned,

We walked away, glancing back once,
As a shimmer of trails took in that lonely light.

**This is a story of what unfolded, what was marked
In ink to be remembered as a moment where even
The smallest gesture, can mean so much.
 Aug 2015 Paula Lee
Poetic T
She was beauty personified, but in truth
She was a wish upon a star,
Like folk lore of times before,
Buttons blue,
Straw veined,
Cloth used from plague victims before, she was
Diseased,
Afflicted,
Unclean
Of mind and body that would bind a soul
Vilified by what was sewn in before,
She played her part well, A real girl,
But the toll on a father now frail and bone,
Two sisters not of blood
And a mother not her own,
A father pasted on midnights charm,
Was it cinders or the sisters?
No one knows.

"Sisters two. What time does mothers clock chime,

And for those words in the basement mother kept,
but old houses have space in walls,
And cinders spied on all,
The letter came of a dance at princes hall.

"We three shall dance the heart of the prince,
"My daughters two,
"One will be queen and we shall rule,

Cinderella anger spent, now just vengeance,
She called upon the one who brought her life,

"Fairy godmother,
"Entombed am I to the palace,
"I must dance,

"My child birthed from my wanton words,
"I will gift you freedom,

As a wand did flourish and skin was nicked,
Blood will birth your desire as arcane words were spoke,

"Let the rats be you steads as black as night,
"Eyes redder than blood moons night,
"The pumpkins out of season but will have to do,
What of a dress my mother of magic?

As barley cloth did hide modesties touch, I have
Suffered this indignity for far to long I need to be
As I was when flesh did grant upon my touch.

"A dress from the blues of your eyes,

As whispers and smoke descended
Out of tatters did beauty radiate,
A goddess seen in all men's eyes.

"Beware the time little one,
"At midnights moon,
"The Twelve chimes shall undo this magic's words,

Upon steeds and a carriage crimson orange
She travelled though ranchers wood,
And the kingdoms castle did reach upon the clouds

"Introducing,
Are you on the list,

Cinders  looked for witnesses at what was to perspire?
And blood specks did taint the floor,
As wiped was the shard, a heel diamond  
That cut like a  guillotine upon soft flesh.
In awe were those who saw her beauty,
A Princes attention taken from sisters two,

"My lady, pardon your name.

"Cinders kind sir,
"Would you like to partake in a dance,

The moments were gaining pace,
As midnight was about to grace, lips so near to touch.
Chimes counted down as Cinders ran,
A slipper did slip it fell.

"I will find you my beauty,

As steeds did squeak,
Pumpkin did fester and burst covering
Cinders now once again tattered clothes.

In the basement found tears did pour,

"Mother cinders is here filth and all,

Then the knock of authority did strike upon the door,
Unlocked,
Forgotten,
Released
Was cinders from her hell hole,
The prince did enter this home
Crystal slipper in his gentle hold.

My ladies please would you honour one with a foot,
As one did try then another,
Mother did try but size twelve was her foot.
Is there another to greet this glass as a whisper came
Though another door,
A shoe was passed through shy was she,
A farce to make the princes curiosity peek,
Mother and daughters rushed in and words did speak,
Then silence for moments,
Is in the room shard did cut upon flesh and
Mother,
Sisters,
Blood
Not of her own did spill, And into the basement limp
Bodies blooded fell.
As glass touched foot,upon the spell,
A dress did knit on her body well.

"Dear sir the shoe does fit a foot so well,

"Does your mother not to wish you farewell,

"No there just killing time in the basement,
"We said our goodbyes all is well,

Cinders now queen, but still tainted at the core,
Her festering unnoticed hidden from all and everyone,
If even a notion of thought she saw,
Then glass slipper was her weapon of choice.
Years did pass many vanished without a trace.
Then the news of Cinderella's upcoming birth,

"breath your majesty,

As new life to birth, with screams in the soundproof walls
A baby girl, of tainted cloth and rotting straw,
She had her mothers old eyes two blue buttons and cute nose,

"Fairy godmother,
"Make my child all new born as I am now,

As words of arcane gestures spoke,
Lightning graced upon ground,
Glancing others,
Flesh did cinder and smoke.
A new princess was now born,
But the prince now ending under lighting smoke,
Child and mother did rule in kind,
For now they festered in evils cloak, and the kingdom
Had an age of despair that had  never been seen or spoke.
 Aug 2015 Paula Lee
Poetic T
The wind charm perched outside sitting still,
No breath to move it, stagnant
As if
Rigor mortis
Morbidity
Death
Had touched the air, inside he sat,
Tears streaming from his reddened eyes,

"Such beautiful music,

The log fire burned intensely , inside were his branding irons,
He had many in his holder, all sitting neatly,
Stifled noise whimpered near by.

"Time ages many things, many things,
"But bone is a music that sings beautifully,

The white metal was ripe for the flesh, as the
Duck tape peeled slowly, then ripped
As blood spots seeped from skin vandalised
And he recorded every tone that sang forth,

"You are A+ grade my, my, the music we will make,

"Plunged into the  torso slowly,
Not wanting to not damage, that
Delicate,
Exquisite,
Fusion
Of bones that graced the air,
Screams echoing throughout the cabin,
Reverberating like a concerto on the senses.
He puts his headphones on, and with blade
Sharpened to its full potential,
As if a conductor waving it through the air.
With precision he cut, and recorded till silence fell.
Flesh was limp on the floor unwanted,

" Meat for the hounds I think,

As the heart still, faint essence of life's beat clinging,
Thrown to the awaiting dogs.

"Eat your heart out,

(He giggles smiling to himself)

The bone now cleansed of life,
Blood,
Muscle,
Marrow
Expunged from the host, till hollow then
Maliciously worn down to the tune of each, till
The silence breathed out. Each one was unique,
Having its own sound of death,
I heard the gesture of breath upon my master piece
Dangling,
Swaying,
Hanging
Life taken but the voices sing out,
I close my eyes and listen as wind kisses each hollow
And the music of death sings out, each made from
Only one never a mixture, as corrupted
Would the sound get two souls  jousting
Over the voices expelled with winds gesturing them out.
I sell these pieces to those enticed by deaths voice
Hollowed out life, given purpose in silence  
I sit in my chair the brands all in there place.
Tears form as the orchestra of screams scratch
Deep within his soul,
The wind speaks to those bones hanging outside.
if you wish to read any more of my serial writes just click on the #serial*killer tag below hope you enjoy my 32nd one so far
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