beth stclair Jul 8

"where night is...romeo at a window"

i.

black rock, gold
leaf edging a page.

ii.

night drowses its
engines dark alleys
and empty cans.

iii.

the night sinks back
like a technicolor
cartoon, blue-green,
it rolls like a film, it
sings of old love
in its fiery steels.

iv.

today i am juliet
waiting for romeo
i wait forever for
one kiss while the
sky calls out
love to the dreaming
cloud.

v.

romeo, oh, romeo,
and the night's
ghostly petals
unwind their
sweetness in the
tree-lined lanes
of the moon.

sage Jul 1

My heart is like a broken bone – it could be fixed, but will it ever really be the same as it once was?

Now,
I don’t believe it can be fixed anymore.

I feel like the sunset in black and white - losing the colour from my life, all because she never wanted me.

It’s as if she- the sun- has burnt out and left me – the blue moon – without a drop of light to warm me and bring back the colour I had lost from being alone.

If the stars were to align the same way, then there could be a beauty like her, but then without her smile, there are no stars in the sky, no light in my heart, nothing to look for in the lonely nights that push me to the ground over and over again.

If I were to look up from the stab wound in my chest, it would be to see her hand at the hilt – a devious smile painting her face with all the colours she has kept hidden from the world.

As the blood from my heart drains to the ground below me, I would drop to my knees, and paint the ground in crimson - my last colour left.

My blood would paint the story of my love for her, before my life is stolen away from me.

And yet the true irony of it all would be the love I hold for her until my last breath- and not even then would my feeling fade.

Long after my life has ended, my heart would still belong to her. It would still yearn for all the intricacies of her being.

Pandora’s Box has released itself on my heart, tearing at it as if it were a hungry lion attacking a peaceful gazelle.

I am forever drawn to her, as if my soul was trapped in her eyes.

The gods have turned against me, making my shadow grow, letting itself bleed through my veins and into my soul.

A soul with no colour should not be a soul at all.

I am forever burdened with no muse, no passion.  

I am a lone wolf, destined to lose my life without a love in the world.

No one to care for, no one to remember in the long nights.

No one.

an edited excerpt of an english assignment from years back. I got a B.

Cupid is no longer a baby
And no longer has wings.  
He’s an adult & he walks
The streets.  
He still carries his bow &
Arrow & he calls himself
A hero to the distressed.
Cupid is his stage name.
He hasn’t been in a play
Since Romeo and Juliet.
In April 1912
He cruised the N Atlantic
On the Titanic, and shot
Jack Dawson with his
Arrow. Jack fell in love
With Rose Dewitt Bukater  
As Cupid stood there
Invisible, only to reappear
Later. The unsinkable ship
Sunk, leaving Jack 28, 232 ft
Below Rose Dewitt Bukater.
Yes, Cupid made it back to
The land, where he walks with
His bow and arrow in his hand,
Calling himself a hero
To those distressed.
June 25.2017

When James Cameron
pitched his script for Titanic,
he showed them a picture
of the Titanic,
and said,
"Picture Romeo & Juliet
on this ship."

In the swirling rivers of forgotten times
Ancestors built a grave from above
For promises made on their long-ago crimes
I lost my once-and-only love

All their past mistakes and their pacts running deep
Are drowning in the murky flood
Treaties compiled in oaths they could not keep
Are passed down in our family blood

Her marble lips smile in the icy stone vault
Her love buried by old vows of hate
But her silent suicide wasn’t our fault
Her murder caused by forefathered fate

They spiteful told me her hands never to hold
Their feuding sounds her funeral bell
Their path has decreed her white face should be cold
So I choose to die here as well

Under the moon,
She cries in the nude.
It rains,
Lightnings
And thunders.
But she never moves.  
People from afar
Hear her roars.
People in cars
Search for her
In the downpour.
They wrap her in a blanket,
And bring her to the hospital.
Doctor’s ask them to be patient
As they figure out,
what’s wrong with her.
She stays silent
And sits still.
Her blinking eyes glint
And tears, her eyes, fill.
Though the lips of her eyes
Speaks a thousand words.
She doesn’t make a sound,
Vocal cords don’t make an effort.
In her mind hangs a portrait
Of a man, she’ll always remember.
A man that has left her
For internal hibernation.
The blood on his wrist
Is the only trace to where he is.
History repeats in the lives of Shakespeareans.
Will this modern Juliet follow
Her Romeo’s tragic ending?
The doctors will check up on her till she’s better.
May 5.2017

He passed up on me
Coz I have no balcony
Cruel Romeo!

Lighting stroke within our minds
when we firt met
I knew arms were ment for holding
And hugs werer for love.
But you can't be mine-you won't be mine
We're in two different universes across reality
Our minds are different
But our hearts want the same thing.
But fate won't let the puzzle snap.
Love against fate, fate killed the *fool
and the too *sheltered. I love you
I want you...but fate won't break.

#Star Crossed lovers.
Ian Woods Apr 28

safe behind the fire doors
beyond the theatre set
far from critics or applause
Romeo leads Juliet
to those backstage spaces
of secret in-betweens
in vacant concrete places
they write alternate scenes

safe behind the fire doors
away from prying eyes
improvising they'd explore
an end where neither dies
and insert extra friction
revising that old text
raise the age restriction
by adding lots more sex

safe behind the fire doors
so long as no-one tells
twelfth night straight with an encore
and all's well that ends well
it happens past the fire doors
the place they tame the shrew
as they like it and of course
about nothing, much ado.

Shakespeare was always fond of tragedies.
From the star-crossed lovers of Verona,
Romeo and Juliet,
to the revenge-stricken prince of Denmark, Hamlet.
Sometimes I wonder
if he was the author of our fate,
for our love has slowly become a tragedy.


(k.p.)

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