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Paula Swanson Oct 2010
I hold in my hand, a human heart.
A mortal heart.
A dead heart.

Yet, for the briefest of instances, I felt it beat.
That expansion of life.  The thump, that is music to my ears.
He put up quite a fight.
his will was strong.  I had to exert more than a mere thought of will upon his mind.
I had to concentrate as never before.
He was a new experience for me.
It vexed me.

He laughed at me in the end.  
Even as his own life's blood, filled my mouth and flowed down my throat.
Even as his heart slowed, he laughed.
He did not laugh when he saw his own heart in front of his cold dead eyes.

I will keep this heart to remind myself of my struggle with a strong will.  So as not to become to sure of myself and my prowess.  But, I did win.

A paper weight.   Or I could rest my quill within it, like a pin cushion.
It looks rather nice upon my desk.

~Lord Kellington
Paula Swanson Oct 2010
I awoke early this evening,
Just as I had planned.
I wanted to see a sunset.
I wanted....to feel.

As I sit and contemplate
the blisters upon my hand,
I realize the truth.
That ****** hurt!

What was I thinking?
What was I wanting?
What did I expect?
Why did I even seek the sun?

Am I wanting true death?
I don't think so.
Have I outlived my usefullness?
Perish the thought.

I must chalk it up to my love of beauty.
My love of all things mystery to me.
I know my tailor sews my clothes,
but how he comes up with the designs,
is a mystery.

I know my cat is hidding mice
within my lair.  I can smell them, hear them.
This is a mystery as to why she does so.

My latest cloak is mystery itself.
So dark an indigo, as to be night.
The lining so dark a red, as to be blood.
With pockets of every shape and size
sewn within.  Each pocket lined with
butter soft leather.  
There are even places to obscure the presence of a knife.

I have decided it will be my new Mourning cloak.
Worn when dining.  Perhaps a small souvenir tucked here and there within those lovely pockets.
No!  That I will never do.  There are rules and etiquette to be followed.

Ah, the moon shines now upon my desk.
The clock is ticking.  My night time
fun ends quickly.

A last stroke of the quill.  A last kiss upon a mangy, rat smelling head of crystal
and I am off.

~Lord Kellington
Paula Swanson Oct 2010
Once upon a time....

When the darkness came to greet me at my door,
I would simply answer "She doesn't live here anymore".
And when the darkness prowled around my house to spy,
Why, I would simply walk right up and spit into it's eye.
Should the darkness have followed me from store to restaurant,
I'd have engaged it in conversation and asked it want it wants.
If that pesky darkness had sneaked up while I was eating chocolate,
Well, then it had to run, before I kicked it in the nuts.

But now in present day....

Should the darkness come and descend at times like these,
I am sorely tempted to embrace it, beg on my knees,
Don't wait until I sleep and dream to steal me away.
I am at times willing, even in the bright of day.
Send out your tendrils, envelop me as a blanket would,
and I will snuggle deeper still, If only I could.
But yet a spark of Once upon a time, stubbornly remains,
Just enough, on days like these, to keep me this side of sane.
Paula Swanson Oct 2010
Roses from his garden,
grace the bedside table.
Resting there just in case,
her situation becomes stable.
He holds her hand, gently speaks,
of things he's done that day.
A tear drop slips down his wrinkled cheek,
afraid she'll stay this way.

A petal drops from a bloom,
as her breathing alters.
Buzzers sound, nurses rush,
her situation alters.
He stands aside, as they work,
the roses in his arms.
Suddenly there is too much silence,
as a nurse turns off the alarms.

Roses from his own garden,
sit in a green plastic vase.
Above the marker that bears her name,
as sunsets on his face.
He's told her that his work is done,
and soon he would be coming home.
As daylight wanes he shuffles off,
to die at home alone.

A petal drops from a bloom,
as he turns to leave.
He bends down to pick it up,
and tumbles to his knees.
He reaches out to the roses,
his heart, it stops a moment too soon.
Before he can pick her out a rose,
as a petal drops from a bloom.
Paula Swanson Oct 2010
Blind through the heavens I seek
For the star that bears your name
There within my heart I keep
Eternally loves soft flame

For the star that bears your name
Guides me with loves sweet call
Eternally loves soft flame
Does hold me close and enthralled

Guiding me with loves sweet call
To stand by your side as wife
Does hold me close and enthralled
This bond together we call life

To stand beside your side as wife
Brings to me a joy untold
This bond together we call life
Nothing manmade can unfold

Brings to me a joy untold
This family we have raised
Nothing manmade can unfold
That which always does amaze

The family we have raised
There within my heart I keep
That which always does amaze
Blind through the heavens I seek
Paula Swanson Oct 2010
Crystal, my flea bitten nuisance of a kitten, brought me a little token of affection tonight.
I deplore mice.
Even dead ones.
Filthy buggers.

But, there sat Crystal.  Mouse at her feet, mewing at me.  As if to say
"See, I love you, even if you are a blood lusting monster of the dark."

I admit, she only mewed once.  But I am certain, that is what she meant.

So as not to hurt her feelings, I donned on of my least favorite pairs of gloves and picked the rancid vermin up.
But I drew the line of pretending to eat it!

I must remember to burn those gloves.

Odd.  The candle on my desk sputters.  There is a breeze.  Although the door to my lair was tightly shut.
There is only on other way in or out.  That would be the  small tunnel I dug for Crystal.  So that she may come and go as she pleases.
Ah.  But here rests my cantankerous little fiend upon my lap.  
The breeze brings with it a scent.  One I know all to well.  
Blood.
My lair has been breeched.
Time to hunt.

~Lord Kellington
Paula Swanson Oct 2010
I now know why the Willow weeps
A tragedy of love it's memory keeps
For once a young man and a young maid
On tender grass beneath branches lay
Though pledged by birth to another
From clans they hid to be together
Thus the gentle Willow was their choice
Meeting beneath, till love they could voice
The Willow held these secret lovers dear
So would lower it's boughs when they drew near
Then tucked away in the Willow's womb
Could lay as one, yet this love was doomed
For jealousy lurked within the Pines
Spying the lovers thus entwined
Behind their curtain of slender limbs
He swore the maiden would yet be his
And so it came to pass one day
As the maiden softly maid her way
To their Willow deep within the glen
She saw the branches did already bend
Timidly as she did draw near
A sound of sorrow met her ears
Parting Willow branches to look within
A dampness did touch upon her skin
The Willow was shedding sap laden tears
For the young man in death was near
It was an arrow that had been used
A potent poison it's head infused
The maiden now blind with grieving mist
Removed the arrow, held it clenched in her fist
Whilst cradling his head he drew his last breath
She did plunge the arrow into her breast
And so it is that this is told
The Willow's grief could not be consoled
For unable to stop what had befell
The young love it had hid so well
With it's will broken as the lovers lay dead
The Willow, it's branches, never again spread
And because it is the memory it keeps
it is to this day that the Willows weep



Featured Poem on Poetry Soup, April 4, 2010
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