Black wings expanded.
Flying lost in the dark foggy weather.
With a breeze flowing through his raven-black feathers.

He’s clueless of where he wishes to go.
But deep in his breast, his spirit knows;
Anywhere but here.

On the other side of the lakes edge
You might say it must be right
That when I throw a rock in the water,
The ripples touch the other side.

With light transparent patterns,
A spider weaves webs like silk,
Every strings placement matters
No matter a leaf or branches tilt.
So if you feel your being watched,
Ever think it might be so?
The spiral made from leaf to leaf
Catches rarities that come and go.

Just as I was thinking this,
I felt I was being watched,
As though someplace in my midst
The sound of footsteps stopped.
Searching for a picture of you as in vain,
I thought I heard you start to laugh,
Saw your raven hair so I flipped through again,
One thing I know is that we're never going back...

You well know
You left once before
Returning with a
Tapping knock
Upon heart's door

Plaintively pleading
Can I enter once more
To press into your soul
Promising a true
Forevermore

Of only us as one
And none other
A one to forever remember
One of the blissful sublime
Not a love to wither and die

Shunning wise counsel
Reluctantly I granted
An entry through
Love's window to my soul
Yet all again a lie

In my agony of sorrow
Of a love lost forever
Having found my Athena
I sip deeply from my glass
Nepenthe warm and sweet

From behind heart's door
Whilst barely breathing
Teeth clenching
Rage seething
Quietly whispering
Nevermore, Nevermore


©  2017 Jim Davis

Could not resist a steal from Poe! For anyone concerned, this comes from an old personal thing.  

From Wikipedia on Edgar Allen Poe's poem, "The Raven":
... "Christopher F. S. Maligec suggests the poem is a type of elegiacparaclausithyron, an ancient Greek and Roman poetic form consisting of the lament of an excluded, locked-out lover at the sealed door of his beloved.[14]"

Paraclausithyron (Ancient Greek: παρακλαυσίθυρον) is a motif in Greekand especially Augustan love elegy, as well as in troubadour poetry.
The details of the Greek etymology are uncertain, but it is generally accepted to mean "lament beside a door", from παρακλαίω, "lament beside", and θύρα, "door".[1] A paraklausithyron typically places a lover outside his mistress's door, desiring entry. In Greek poetry, the situation is connected to the komos, the revels of young people outdoors following intoxication at a symposium. Callimachus uses the situation to reflect on self-control, passion, and free will when the obstacle of the door is removed.[2]

From greekgodsandgoddesses website
Athena
* Athena was the Goddess of War, the female counterpart of ARES.
* She was the daughter of Zeus; no mother bore her. She sprang from Zeus’s head, full-grown and clothed in armor.
.......
* In later poetry, Athena embodied wisdom and rational thought.


From Dictionary website
Nepenthe
* a drug or drink, or the plant yielding it, mentioned by ancient writers as having the power to bring forgetfulness of sorrow or trouble.
* anything inducing a pleasurable sensation of forgetfulness, esp. of sorrow or trouble.

He watches; quiet, reflective.
No doubt he detected
The weight of my
Body-shaped shame.
My name similar to his,
Who now rots under sunlight,
Unabashed in his righteousness
To which I was blind.
I find myself here,
In a garden once perfect,
Now tainted with ******.
I heard the scratching,
Faint at first,
So I turned and saw him.
The raven watches;
Quiet, perceptive,
His gaze so effective.
His foot scratches the ground,
Making a sound that feels
Almost peaceful.
He unearths the freedom
That I need him to show me.
Just below me,
The earth is opening up.
I grab my brother's limp arm,
Drag him away
From the evidence of his harm.
Further away
From the judgment of God.
The raven approves;
He quietly nods.

Uttered whisperings
colliding within my thoughts
                                Shadowing my soul..
          
                       The raven uttered silently......

*You walk the path of the dead..

The gleaming pair of crimson red eyes reflect nothing but suffering.
While it's true that those sulfur feathers take flight,
tear holes in the wind, and pierce the night sky,
it's only to get your attention.

Does he have your attention?
He knows he has your attention.
From branch to branch he stares, learns, stalks,
and casts doubt into your impressionable acumen.

You know nothing, and nothing is his forte.
You haven't caught up, but those infinite pools of blood are headed your way.
Don't be afraid, don't scurry, don't cry;
By the end of the night, you'll have seen all,
and you'll be just another in the crimson tide.

She can't deny herself any more.

She wants more than anything

to eat the heartshaped petals on the side

and swallow her liability. It's dangerous

grinding her secret garden between her teeth. Who could understand

that she covets a beautiful flower, but it's her fault she feels this way;

she compares herself to a sweet orange

when she is like a sour lemon. And then there's a dandelion.

She takes those too, to carry with her prayers

and roses. She dreams flowers will blossom

like goosebumps on her skin. She's anxious

to wear her hair down like grapevines. She feeds her

dreams to the ravens. We treat her with love

and write songs about her.

She felt it, something so beautiful growing in her stomach it ached.