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T R Wingfield Feb 2017
I found a coven in the woods
Amongst an oaken forest glen.
There,
hidden behind a curtain of Spanish moss,
amongst fiddlehead ferns and fungi bloom,
two of Gaia's faithful maidens
Enchanted me unwittingly, and took possession of my gaze.

A Pair of Muses
One, of the forest
One, of the sea
Both wind and fire
Equally
In opposition and in sway

Their incantations softly chanted
In a tongue to me unknown
and I listened quietly entranced,
between them in the glow
Of their cauldron hearth fire
Embers burning low

She of the forest was enigma, playfully shy,
coyly toying with the strings all men share,
And in her den, among her herbs and powders and potions  
In preperation, and prepared.
She spoke in riddles and in parable,
Both with body and with stares.

Instantly she knew me
As I had never known;
As if Devined by a mysticism,
Ancient and pure,
So sublime it startles the soul.
In her eyes,
so sweet and sincere,
simplicity and innocence obscure
A strange and intoxicating knowledge
Of the rare and deepest old
Of the world and it's great secrets-
What its darkest reaches hold.

She of the sea
Was shimmering
A specter
Against the stars
Floating

She was Waves
Of aquamarine
Blue Green
Irridescent
Obscure and reticent
Behind her ever pulsing shade

Camaflouged by her surroundings
This piscian vision lingered in relief
Over a Gilded titan mother of pearl chariot;
The Persephone Throne.
She cast her stare upon me;
My hypnotized mind laid bare,
Wiped clean of anything I had seen.
No man could know her shrine of love
Nor the secrets that she keeps,
And none ever remember;
For one cannot resist her lair

An aquarian cavern,
A haven of calm,
Rest, respite and solitude.
It's lotus blossom lantern
Heart of glowing gold
Cast in shadow upon the ceiling
Glimmering radiant refractions
of the waning day

Her ocean sings soft and sweetly,
Casting mist into the air,
And a siren's song disrupts me
Ever suddenly
She washes over me,
Unaware

And though the seven signs they showed to me clearly
Still the stars I misread
through misted eyes,
and soon I fell to dreaming without sleeping
Or so I thought, though i shall never know

In their atmosphere I relinquished this mortal coil into the haze,
And disappeared completely
For an instant, just a moment,
perhaps it was hours.
Perhaps,
it was days.

And as abruptly as rushing water to the somnambulists face
I awoke,
As a dreamer awakes
from dreaming of waking,
alone and bleary-eyed,
dreary and confused
amid my own disheveled cave.
And where they've gone, I wish to go,
But where that is, I cannot know
For I would follow them until the days
Turned forever into nights amongst
The Forest and The Waves
(Added roughly 7 years after writing this) An impression of the first time I met my lover through a friend and rereading it still takes me Back to that night and that first moment when I saw her clearly, ****** and silent watching her unfold to her friend in a conversation I couldn’t follow because they didn’t use any names or really finish any sentences. The two sat and stared at each others eyes and talked as if I wasn’t even there; and it struck me so very deeply. And I have a photo somewhere of the two of them laughing after one spilled a box of paper cones. Their names were Kristen (the waves) and Billie (the Forrest). And I love them both.
T R Wingfield Feb 2017
If everyone just needs to be loved for who they are, then why the hell is finding someone to love so ******* hard?

Maybe its just me, but is it really that much to ask? Is it so wrong to say, "I think I might could love you if we could get past all the games."

But honesty doesn't work in these twisted troubled times, because we are all so accustomed to normalizing lies, but for my own part I'll continue to be direct and hopefully one day my approach will be correct.
You know, thinking about it, I probably write poetry because I **** at getting laid #tomuchhonesty
T R Wingfield Jan 2017
Show me the secrets of your shadowy places, where the visage of men has not yet been.

Lead me to your garden in the grove amongst the pines, painted flaxen gold in dappled summer sun.

Show me your blooming petals and your fruiting trees. Let me harvest your abundance, caressed by honeyed fingers, cast long and low against the tree trunks, fading fire orange into vermillion, scarlet, crimson, and violet dusk.

 In twilight turning, with Venus hung low on the horizon, and Scorpius rising from the southern hemisphere,

Trust my hand and follow blindly through the forest, over hobbled rotten logs, under branches reaching, eyes shielded from their grasping, scratching talons creeping sticky with cobweb and lichen,

 Quietly toward the moonrise, eastward and down, upon a matted needle trail, softly trodden only ever

by you and by myself.

Wander with me, barefoot,
out, into the ether;
under the veil of our night-mother's gaze
and sublimate into the mist.

Lay with me in the clover beneath the starsign symphony

-Gaze upon its harmony and shimmering melody-

Inhale the acrid sweet scent of our settling dew,
and reveal to me your many flowered truths

Show me your soul
set aflame
from love, and life, and pain.
Share yourself unequivocallly;
My Goddess and my muse, betrothed of imps and faerys
radiate upon me
- Become my revelry -
You-
My Goddess Starchild
You- My Fire Muse
You- My Woodland Nymph, betrothed to Imps and Fairies...
T R Wingfield Jan 2017
This is a call to Arms
The time for action is now.
Our government is preparing for War
They're building walls and cutting ties
to conquer us they must divide
us from ourselves and from our world

This is a call to Arms
The time for Action is now
The board is set, and we, the Pawns, are all in our place, facing an enemy we are told to defeat,
though they appear to be identical to you and me.

This is a Call to Arms
The time for action is now
We must revolt
Lest we be sacrificed to Kings
To Queens, to Bishops
To the knights of the realm and the castles they call home.

This is a call to Arms
The time for action is now
We must band together to be heard
We will not be cannon fodder
For the frontlines of a culture War

This is a Call to Arms
The time for action is now.
Defeat looms ever closer
The Reckoning draws nigh
Will you stand and deliver
Or will you bow down and submit?
Will you face the coming adversity,
or brave the consequences
should you turn your back to it?

This is a call to arms
They've taken land and sea and air,
Poisoned them to **** us,
and then billed us for the repair.
The enemy surrounds us,
Threatening life and limb and freedom.
Demanding fealty and obedience.
Demanding tribute for the war chest,
And soldiers for the ranks,
Demanding that we pay the cost while they set price.
They want us broken, not just beaten
Only unconditional surrender will suffice

This is a call to Arms
The time for action is now
To chant the castles down
To fortify the streets
Against the tyranny and the hate,
Against powers of subjugation,
Against the evils of the world

now
The doomsday clock ticks ever closer to midnight. We must act now; so to avert catastrophe.

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1848390/sublimate-reiterate/
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1907682/gun-shy/
T R Wingfield Jan 2017
"Stars are trying to tell me
this is something like it"

The stars are trying to tell me something, but it's something I can't hear. Or perhaps it's showing me the light but it's shining on
something I can't see. The universe is singing somewhere vast and shimmering; expanding in upon itself, growing closer, still near exploding.
Reveal my soul to me


I stare into the heavens hopeful that she'll open her inky vale, shine her countenance upon me, and bless the growing glowing trail
of star dust and darkness and love and gravity, which spins beyond the precipice.
Ever in front of me.
Celestial Symphony of Fate and wonder guide me with your melody

An Azimuth circle and chart are all that I need to guide my soul to heaven in the heart of the black nights sea
T R Wingfield Jan 2017
Ours was like fireworks
in the mid-summer sky
Radiant,
       Iridescent,
                   Incredulous,
                              Alive
but the finale came suddenly, unexpectedly soon,
& the band played on,
as if nothing had changed,
as if a fountain of sparkling embers and flame
had not just erupted mere inches away.
And now,
where explosions once seared summer's sky with crackling thunderous incandescent delight
Only whispers and wisps of smoke remain,
Scattered by the breeze,
Whithered, then, by rain.
And of the evening's reveries precious little can be found:
some soured beer in crumpled cans, discarded haphazardly
surrounding a threadbare picnic bedspread
rumpled beneath the branches of an ancient live oak tree.
Dew now wet where lovers once had lain,
staring up into the night
in wonder, ignorant of such banal things
like: masquerading lust in love's robes, declaring,
"I've never loved a love as deep as the love I have for you,"
and truly being unaware of the uncanny substitute;
Or the unbridled disenchantment unleashed by abandonment
and the inevitable transience of an insufferable pain.

We ****** on bar balcony balustrades, over looking city streets.
We ditched tampons into trees rather than wait to satisfy our needs.
We left your ******* in a planter
on a patio under an eve
On purpose, So that some poor, unassuming shop-keep
Would find them
(along with cigarette butts and an empty bag of ****)
and have no choice but think to themselves,
"Did someone **** here?"
and then immediately understand:
the answer is
"Yes. Exuberantly!"

We defiled. every. place. we went;
giggling with glee at all of our indiscretions.

Oh how many indiscretions could there possibly be?
We shall know;
All of them!

And so we did,

And we were free.



On new years eve I carried you piggyback in your peacock blue sequined gown through the streets of our ****-soaked-gutter-of-a-town.
You were barefoot, drunk, and refusing to be told what to do,
that you had to wear your shoes,
that the streets were far to ***** and dangerous for your tender little feet- you said "Just let me be, It's fine. It wont **** me..."
then, looking at the gutter, continued,
"probably.
And these shoes already are, so..." sticking out your tongue
But I couldn't put you down.
Not in that place, not at that time.
Nor did I even want to. I could have carried you all night
(which was fortunate, because for most of itI did.)
We were declared the city's cutest couple by a stranger on the sidewalk whom we passed while galloping down the street, you, giggling, alight upon my back, running at full speed. This declaration is reaffirmed by everyone we meet.

- A pixie, you know, will always trip you up
(they're natural pranksters you see).
Their magic is undeniable, but oh what trouble they can be. -

- My toothsome little faerie - You meant trouble for me;
but what a beautiful,
beguiling mess you turned out to be,

You snuck pixie dust into everywhere we went, and
Dispensed it with abandon-
Spread it like caution to the wind.
Sanctifying everything and everyone we met.
That poor city was baptized in our joy.
It's sins washed into glittering gutters,
where we lay sparkling, genuine and loved.


We broke the records that night,
all of them, known and not.

We loved harder than diamond,
than a trailer-hitch to the shin,
Deeper than the fathoms of the trenches at the bottom of the sea.

We made soulmates seem like strangers.
We spoke nonsense fluently.
We shared mind and body, food and drink,
and careless wanton play.

It was

The most
     *******
          Fun
   I've ever had
       in my life...

Probably the most that I ever will.


Every moment I was with you had
the sizzle and the tease
of a bottle-rocket, lit
and held between my teeth.

I knew that I'd get burned
If I held it to the end,
But I did it just to prove I could;
To prove to me
That I was brave enough
To be unashamed
  To be unafraid
   To be.
First draft catharsis.
Second draft refined.
Third draft- shape and tone, structure and rhyme.

I've been holding on to some very dense emotional pain relating to a relationship which, for lack of a better word, collapsed. When it did, I was buried by my depression, and sank into drug and alcohol addiction. The depression and drugs had taken there toll on the relationship, but I couldn't not understand why someone who had loved and been loved so deeply could just walk away. It took a long time to understand that it was self-preservation. And that is a hard realisation to make. Still the love we shared was enigmatic. Like nothing I've ever seen in a movie or a song or a poem. This is hardly a testament, or even a rough approximation of the experience at its finest moments, but it is a reflection. A memory. She took a piece of me when she left. One I want back desperately, but also one I know cannot be found. So I'll have to search until I find something of a similar size and shape, maybe a little larger, and cut the whole to fit.
T R Wingfield Jan 2017
Castigate Sublimate
         Sanctify Indoctrinate
     Expatriate Disseminate
Proselytize Reiterate

     Reject, Deny, and Obfuscate

        Incarcerate Dehumanize
   Desensitize Decimate
        Incinerate Rejuvenate
       Simplify and Permeate
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