Dear ribbons of waterflame,
                       gold, green and blue
                swathes itself around my palms,
                                                            beco­ming
            a ball of radiant waters that floats in
          cupped hands and at the thought of
      love, it buds and curls like a lily's
petal
       and
             the years of hushed times
                  eat at my very soul, nulling
                      deafening me to the music
                             of the mint-dark sky,
                                of the flame-thorn sun
                          of the bone-white stars
                 My feet are kissed by the
            star-studded shores, washing,
       relieving the
  fragments of my shattered
past
I keep the shell of my hope
  shielded
      in my *****, near the heart
        My eyes dancing zultanites
           With my gaze on the horizon
                   rise the clouds of trouble
                    How long will I plan to thrive
                  when I am but a shrinking violet
            cold, iced with scorn
          but
       I am the Mistress of Waterflame
    Daughter of the Mers
and
  Scion of the Dragon Line

     So blood will bend and billow
         like flowers
            So fits the one of the skies and sea
             An expert who delivers in
        the trade of
    death


But the hope in my ***** pulses
      As my bloodlust evulses


                As I dream of the warmth that will soothe my weary

I hear those whispers in my ears,
Just like the flutters of a butterfly,
The words that I want to hear,
The words that's lost somewhere,
Like a fine song that leaves the flute,
I strain to hear the tunes of wild,
The bamboo calling out for me to try,
I closed my eyes anticipating the shrill cry,
My lips circled and blew the tune,
Started not right, but there was a music..
Music that followed the sway of trees,
A song that embraced the whole outdoor,
It wasn't my worry if my tunes were wrong,
There was no one to listen to this particular song.
I knew then I should take the steps alone,
My ears tuned to hear those little whispers,
Let me make a song from what I heard and what got lost somewhere,
The filled blanks are my emotions,
When I played them in my flute,
It got better and better..
Even the lost song is for a better tide...

anger burns so deep within me ,
i dont know where
it stops .
               .
                .

god told me there was a mistake
when creating
you

(and he whispers when he lies)

so
look me in the eyes next time --

tell me it's not painful .
.

Sangviness
Divineness
All sorts of
Grace-messy
Hair-tangles
Mr. Bo Jangles
OH! Grace
Galloping
Kelly
Affairs
Secretive smiling

Cheeks and lips
slip out potent
Wines spill about
He lashes out!!
Only to mask
Not to see
Never to ask
Do I ask?

Whispers Nirvana
Palm Trees dance
Salsa Hot steps
Copacabana

whispers are just words in black and white,
so let your voice fill my ear with sepia-tone
paint my skin monochrome
let your words tint my blood with white-out
and my skin with ink.

touch my hair
and rub the colors of your heart
onto my split ends
like hair dye from a discount store,
stain my face
press your dyed fingertips
into the hollows of my cheeks,
because they lack color.

let your gaze
cast honeyed light on my shoulders
let it warm my freezing fingers
let it thaw my frostbitten lungs,
make my elbows lighten
with the heat of your palms
imprint the spaces between my ribs
with the marks of your fingers
like puzzle pieces, meant to fit together.

She sits rather still, stitching her loom
shackled and bound to the whispering room
While the walls shutter speeches
she slouches then reaches,
her stitching resumed.

Threads of silk pool in spools
cast to the floor
Hushing the voices
as they pour

the voices repeat their crippling phrase
dancing the space
bound to their maze

Sleep called faintly, so
Whispers tucked me in tonight
Poems, I dreamt of them

But what is a poem
If a writer cannot write
Words that come to mind

Blankness overtook
So they reside in my mind
And not on paper