#ottavarima
In dark forest, she blooms in fleeting light
Pink silken wings outshine dawn's gentle caress
An old soul cloaked in springtime's youthful delights
Her fragrance weaves a spell, a sorceress
Powerless, you cross her threshold, endless starlight
Her deepest hunger for your soul is limitless
Reality and dream blur, a spider's thread
She weaves your soul to fates still unsaid
Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 6:02 PM UTC
There is a distinct sense of rising panic,
It pushes against my bones, my ribs, my heart.
I was led to believe the last breath is quick,
But it seems that Time has fought to play his part.
Till the flame brings the candle down to the wick,
Till the artist paints himself into the art.
The wind will still blow and the bells will still chime,
But still tied to his word, Death will follow Time.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
Fresh new book opens wide and swallows me whole!
Taking time to acclimate I catch my breath,
Focusing as scenes and characters unfold
To instill memories of their length and breadth.
Finishing one book a month is my firm goal
Few subjects considered are out of my depth
Reading encourages to take life in stride-
Back to my book! See you on the other side!
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 6:52 PM UTC
Here, where your searing body pressed close to mine
Puts Vulcan's furnaces' heat to frigid shame,
Where crashing sun-showers rinse away the brine
Of held hands, shared secrets and our glancing games,
Where fleeing through rainy May and summer wine
Brings together close encounters, whispered names;
Here, more as two than just ourselves, **** the cares
And **** remembering what awaits out there...
There, far away from home, hemorrhaging heat,
Left to my own hollowed-out devices
Where the concrete jungle strangles every street,
Leaving lives wilted and dry, no surprises
Where novelty passes for a catchy beat:
Here, alone, all identity is crisis.
The wasteland surrenders in time, have no fear;
With my eyes shut, I can see the path back here...
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
Sweltering in the sun, wishing for a warm rain
thirsty drooping flowers crave a refreshing drink
the brook dries up waiting for the rain to flow again
the heat waves shimmered, the rocks seemed to shrink,
Then I heard the gentle tapping on my window-pane
and watched the rain spill to earth from heaven's brink
flower heads lift as rain soaks their garden beds
a brook ripples and sparkles as the water quickly spreads
ALesiach © 09/01/2017
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 3:45 PM UTC