"bethany" poems
I am the Raven of Dreams,
Who wanders the dreamscapes of yore,
I pluck the thoughts and memories,
That aren't remembered no more,
Shiny things in thoughts and dreams,
And babbles of treasure lost,
In memories long faded away,
In dreams that will live on.
I am the Raven of Dreams,
Who wanders the dreamscapes of yore,
My beak will tear and rip and pull,
And feed on memory's corpse,
All is food to the one who calls,
And walks the dusk and dawn,
In memories long faded away,
In dreams that will live on.
I am the Raven of Dreams,
Who wanders the dreamscapes of yore,
And finds lost things that none could find,
And brings them home with me,
The babbles I seek I will always take,
To decorate my nest,
In memories long faded away,
In dreams that will live on.
I am the Raven of Dreams,
Who wanders the dreamscapes of yore,
Up mountains so tall that no one can climb,
But I can fly so high,
Across endless plains no on can cross,
But I can fly so fast,
In memories long faded away,
In dreams that will live on.
I am the Raven of Dreams,
Who wanders the dreamscapes of yore,
Across endless seas where all become lost,
But I can fly so strong,
Through dark woods so dark no one can see,
But I cam fly beyond,
In memories long faded away,
In dreams that will live on.
I am the Raven of Dreams,
Who wanders the dreamscapes of yore,
And finds the secrets among all our thoughts,
And finds out all there is,
The paths I fly no one can go,
The treasures are mine alone,
In memories long faded away,
In dreams that will live on.
I am the Raven of Dreams,
Who wanders the dreamscapes of yore,
I pluck the thoughts and memories,
That aren't remembered no more,
Shiny things in thoughts and dreams,
And babbles of treasure lost,
In memories long faded away,
In dreams that will live on.
~I am the Raven of Dreams, a Poem of Candlemas by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, February 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 4:04 AM UTC
There is no smell in all the world,
None in the North or South,
None in the East or West,
None in the lowest places,
None on the highest peaks,
Like that smell filling the air,
Filling the house,
Filling my senses,
That smell of spaghetti frying,
Frying in the morning light,
The smell so different from when it was first cooked,
Moving the senses,
Moving the mind,
Anticipation in scent,
The sauce sizzling,
Changing,
Changing in the frying pan,
As the noodles turn crisper,
Crisper,
Crisp,
With that crispness like no other,
The noodles,
No longer white,
Made yellow,
Yellow from the sauce,
Fried onto them,
One with them,
Flavours seeping in,
And the sauce,
Orange now,
Red orange but clearly orange,
No longer the bright red it was when it entered the pan,
And as the sauce and noodles change,
Reach that perfect point,
The smell just right,
The colour just right,
The texture just right,
The sizzling reaching the perfect crescendo,
Then, and only then,
The spaghetti no longer stirring,
Evened out,
Temperature lowered,
And carefully,
Slowly,
To keep them on the top,
The eggs break,
White running among the noodles,
Filling the gaps,
Turning from clear to white as they hit the hot pan,
Yolks floating on top where they should be,
The perfect drop,
And the odours as the white changes,
Filling the air with new scents,
Mingling with the ones already present,
And then the salt, disappearing on the surface,
The black pepper,
Black flects,
Scattered evenly,
Perfectly,
The smell of pepper joining the egg and spaghetti,
And a splash of Tobacco Sauce across the whole,
That hot smell,
That bright red colour,
And the silver lid slips on,
Over the top,
Hiding,
Protecting,
Cooking the whole,
Until it is done,
And the lid set aside,
The whole onto a plate,
Perfect to the senses,
The smell,
The colours,
The texture,
Perfect,
And the first bight,
Heavenly,
Like nothing else on earth,
Almost sweet,
But still savoury,
Strange to those knowing bowled pasta,
Strange to those knowing simmered sauce,
Strange to those knowing fried eggs,
But the tastes,
Perfect,
Blended,
Strange but familiar,
Many memories,
Images,
Experiences,
All coming together like the different parts of the fried spaghetti,
And the fork through the yoke,
As it runs down,
Bright yellow into orange and red and black and white,
Perfect,
Amazing,
Done.
~The Smell of Fried Spaghetti by Bethany Davis, June 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
What beauty shines in dappled light,
In misty morning air?
What beauty's cloaked in foggy mist,
Waiting to be shone?
The light it changes endlessly,
No view is ever twice,
Sun and rain and mist and fog,
The ever changing light.
The hills they roll in endless clefts,
Valleys and ridges roll,
Endless land that ever goes,
From dawn way out to dusk.
A home it is this peaceful place,
If only for a time,
The comfort of the love here found,
That makes a house a home.
Horses graze to their delight,
The moisture fine with them.
The rabbits hope, the birds all sing,
The magpie glides around.
Few have seen the morning light,
Out shining through the mist,
Few there are that know delight,
Of ranch's peacefulness.
Here I sit in morning light,
The peace it fills my soul.
Refreshing rain and my delight,
Out here far from home.
What beauty shines in dappled light,
In misty morning air?
What beauty's cloaked in foggy mist,
Waiting to be shone?
The light it changes endlessly,
No view is ever twice,
Sun and rain and mist and fog,
The ever changing light.
~Dappled Light by Bethany Davis, June 7, 2014
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
You take your throne as winter comes,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Secrets rest as the Dead rise up,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
We the Lost who few can see,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
We hear your call of winter winds,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
A fire lit that once was cold,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
On winter winds you find your own,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The year grows nigh as time does stop,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The time has come for cold Misrule,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Gates of Life and Gates of Death,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Flutter open to part the Veil,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Speak to me, oh cold Cold One,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Whom once rode forth all teeth and eyes,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Your time has come, the dice are cast,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Coils of ice and coils of snow,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Serpent form among the trees,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The moving sway of Serpent hips,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Ice Queen sits as Hallow's Eve,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Finds its way to All Hallow's,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Regent sits high in the North,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And know her time has come again,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Hail to you Keeper of the Lost,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Hail to you who brings the tears,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The pale Blue Flame of Winter's Night,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
We know your face and Serpent's Tongue,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The cold Black Altar in the Hall of Stone,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Cutter there before the Black Gates,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Her Black Knife raised to cut the threads,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And Death's wings spread beside the Gates,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
To guide the Living and the Dead,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
For now the Veil is open wide,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Gates are open and swing both ways,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Mighty Dead we praise tonight,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Blessed Dead we call your names,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The pulsing call of Bloodline blood,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The pulsing call of Loreline blood,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The pulsing call of Fateline blood,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Blood does call, it calls to Blood,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Bones do wake and speak once more,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Memory sleeps in sleeping Bones,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And Blood awakens the sleeping Bones,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And quickens now what once was dead,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
On altar top and in the Halls,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
We call you now to come to us,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
To breathe again the breath we breathe,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And speak this night and speak again,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And as the Darkness now recedes,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Darkling Twin awaits the Bright,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Misrule reigns and all is Öð,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Öð and odd, and Wyrd and weird,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And may the Hunt now pass us by,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Or may we ride the frightful ride,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
By Winter's Night and crossroad light,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And ghost roads stretch into the night,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And troll roads strange and faerie roads,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
That lead out there between the worlds,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Guide our way with lantern bright,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
We are the Lost, you children tonight,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Toss your dice for us just right,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And may the year we now head to,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Find the dreams the Dreamer dreamed,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
This year manifest this next.
~Hail, oh, Builder of Storms, a Hallow poem by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, November 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
Crossing this path for the third time. God, I hope it's the last.
Sometimes I wish I knew what was in your mind.
Other times I just laugh.
Bethany, we have such a hard history. Childhood was a brawl.
I wish I had more compassion for you.
We were both so small.
Now here we are for the third time; oh what a shameful act.
Is it that we have too much pride?
Or perhaps it's a lack.
Oh, the horrors of family relations.
Oh, the binds that wound our salvation.
Oh, the lack of any sense.
Oh, the death of innocence.
Back at church camp, we did not know. We were caught unawares.
I ****** his **** (I had never before).
He kissed you on your nose.
I hear now he's engaged to a girl. I guess you won in the end.
But we both lost so much dignity.
He's still my Facebook friend.
Oh, we were so gullible.
Oh, it felt so horrible.
Oh, the lack of any sense.
Oh, the death of innocence.
Score number two was my fault, I guess. I loved him very well.
In middle school he called you his girl.
Now we're all going to Hell.
But in my defense, he was my first kiss.
He might have been yours as well.
I'm sorry, my sister, for liking his hair, and all the lies I tell.
Oh, now I've gone and hurted myself.
Oh, I can never ask for your help.
Oh, the lack of any sense.
Oh, the death of innocence.
Three days ago I discovered the third, which you confirmed in a text.
Did it have to be with my Paris love?
It was the first time I had ***
Still, I win. If anyone can.
You'll date him in Ohio. It's mean to say, but it's the truth.
You're just his beard and a smile.
I want to say this, little sis. I wish that we could be friends.
But secrets breed secrets, which breed some more.
And we all die in the end.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 7:58 AM UTC
~~°♡°~~
He had died upon a cross
Three days laid to rest
Women came unto His tomb
With a vision blessed
As they saw the stone was moved
An angel then appeared
*"Why is it you come to seek
A man who is not here?"*
They looked into the tomb and saw
The cavity was bare
The shroud was neatly folded
But Jesus wasn't there!
The joy they felt beatific
When Jesus did they see!
They obeyed His next command
To meet at Galilee
In amazement and some fear
The women ran to others
Proclaimed the news Christ was alive
To the waiting brothers!
And two of the disciples
Did walk to Emmaus
To find the Lord amongst them
Though their eyes they could not trust
When they could see, and found it He
Said, "Our hearts burned within us!"
Then Jesus came, good as His name
To folk who were to wait
He showed his scars, the telltale mars
Sat with them and ate!
He led them up to Bethany
Blessed them all around
They were amazed, with His hands raised
He was lifted from the ground!
Can you imagine trumpeting?
Can you hear the sound?
Could there be it's equal?
In glory to be found?
Jesus rose to heaven
*The clouds were then His
CROWN*
SøułSurvivør
(C) 4/16/2017
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
Through the darkness I part the Veil,
And walk the hidden paths,
In the brightness beyond the pale,
I see what none have seen.
There's danger here in the world beyond,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.
And all my days it waits for me,
The calling in my blood,
And through the years I walk the paths,
That very few have seen,
The Veil grows thin as years go by,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.
Through the darkness I return again,
From those fair hidden paths,
And as I walk I learn to talk,
Like I once knew I could,
For few have been beyond the veil,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.
~In the Gleam Beyond the Gloom by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, March 5, 2015
My attempt at translating it into Latin:
Velum parte post umbram,
Et ambulate per semitae occultae,
In splendóribus supra pallidus,
Non video quid viderim.
Non est hic mundus extra periculum,
In splendóribus post umbram.
Et omnibus diebus meis memet maneat
Vocatio in sanguine meo,
Et per annos ambulate semitae,
Valde pauci, quas vidi,
Velum crescit tenuis quod eunt anni,
In splendóribus post umbram.
Per tenebras revertentur
Ex his latet semitas occultae,
Et ego ambulo illis loquela,
Scientes semel ego potui,
Pauci abierunt trans velum,
In splendóribus post umbram.
And a translation of that Latin from an academic translation site:
And the hanging for the part after the shadow,
And walk by the ways of the hidden God,
In the brightness of beyond the pale,
I do not see what I saw,
He is not here the world is out of danger,
In the brightness after the shadow.
The call waits for me,
In my blood, and all my days,
And I will walk you through the years, the highways,
Very few men, that I have seen,
As the years go by the thin veil of the increases,
In the brightness after the shadow.
From these things it is hidden by the darkness,
They shall come again the paths of the hidden God,
And I, I walk the angels have speech,
Yet knowing that once I was able to,
They went to the other side of the veil of the few,
In the brightness after the shadow.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
I wake up in the garden. The wisteria hovers over me like the ****** Mary. The wisteria was a present from Dee’s mother, except she didn’t call it wisteria, she called it ‘Bethany’s Flower’ because it had first been grown by great aunt Bethany over one hundred years ago. The wisteria is sky blue, passed down through the family like a blue-eyed gene.
I stumble into the house and shamble upstairs. Maria is in my bed - a **** vision, a lovely blur. The mirror laughs at me as I pull at my eyelids, staring into myself. My eyes have a sort of skin on them, a dull film, like two brown bottles left to collect dust in the cellar.
“Morning.” Maria says.
“Morning.” I say, breaking away from the mirror.
“Where did you go?”
“Nowhere.” I grab my mobile from the bedside. “Excuse me a minute, I need to phone someone.”
I go back into the garden and dial.
“Dan?”
“Good morning arsehat.” He laughs. “Hungover much?”
“Yeah. Listen, Dan-“
“Maria still there?”
“Yeah she is. Listen Dan…”
“What happened with you two last night?”
“I’m not sure. Listen Dan – this is going to sound stupid, but can ketamine turn you blind?”
“What?”
“Ketamine. Can it turn you blind?”
**** I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Ok. See, I think I might need to see a doctor. It’s my right eye. My right eye.” I sit down on the white chair, holding on. “I can’t see a ******* thing.”
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, things called faded never were:3
losing hope on the the line
a beak of joy once in my lifetime
miracle from the ending
never want to manipulate a bending
the polar of the polar was at that stake
a back to back felt like a heart break
favourite on the eyes
no need for excuses or pathetic lies
goddesses of killers
breathed into a caterpillar
but the butterfly not to live ought to die
on a yellow leaf to rot and cry
a shoulder to hang on not written on that destiny
today of all days the dangerous whispers to bethany
how much of months are upcome to bare the yin
battle of love in a spiced up of a resentment called yang in
melody to fear
connected to the neck right there to the ear
to no one but me
------ravenfeels
Apr 29, 2021
Apr 29, 2021 at 1:54 PM UTC
I long for your touch,
Skin on skin,
Your skin,
Sliding slowly,
Smoothly,
Effortlessly,
All consuming,
Along my bare skin,
Exposed,
Revealed,
Open to your touch,
Your touch,
Opening me like a flower,
Gently,
Slowly,
All my senses consumed,
By your touch,
So gentle,
So loving,
So free,
I long for your touch.
~Bethany Davis, December 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
Mist is a kiss,
Upon my bare skin,
In the middle of night in the rain,
A lover's caress,
A joy in each drop,
The love that falls from above.
In darkness I stand,
Each drop and each sound,
The peace of the valley below,
A kiss and a touch,
A whisper and blush,
The rain is my lover and friend.
I dance in the dark,
To a song no one knows,
As my skin is caressed by the rain,
My hips they do sway,
My arms are upraised,
My thanks for the kiss of the rain.
There is no joy,
As complete as mine now,
Out all alone in the rain,
No sound can be heard,
But the ****** of rain,
Here so far from the town.
Each splash of a drop,
A whisper, a touch,
It brings such joy to my soul,
My lover, my friend,
The life giving rain,
The moisture makes love to my skin.
Mist is a kiss,
Upon my bare skin,
In the middle of night in the rain,
A lover's caress,
A joy in each drop,
The love that falls from above.
~The Love That Falls From Above by Bethany Davis, June 7, 2014
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 4:32 AM UTC
Out in the range,
Beyond all cell phone,
The peace of the valley,
The mountains around,
Where elk graze and deer run,
Where horses call home,
If I could do it,
A ranch wife I'd be.
The wind cross the hilltops,
The water below,
The cattle out grazing,
Hawk and eagle stand watch,
Fences and dirt roads,
Pastures and fields,
If I could do it,
A ranch wife I'd be.
Rainstorms and snowstorms,
Thunder and hail,
Content beneath covers,
Warm arms to hold,
Comfort me, cuddle me,
I'll be by your side,
If I could do it,
A ranch wife I'd be.
There's peace in the stillness,
There's warmth all alone,
Just two souls and hillsides,
We're never alone,
Isolation is a comfort,
Out out of reach,
If I could do it,
A ranch wife I'd be.
The barking of ranch dogs,
The mooing of cows,
The horses they knicker,
I sigh like the wind,
The bird songs and crickets,
The sounds of out here,
If I could do it,
A ranch wife I'd be.
Out in the range,
Beyond all cell phone,
The peace of the valley,
The mountains around,
Where elk graze and deer run,
Where horses call home,
If I could do it,
A ranch wife I'd be.
~A Ranch Wife I'd Be by Bethany Davis, June 7, 2014
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 4:40 AM UTC
Hail Lupercal!
O hail the Wolf,
In all Her many guise!
The Tearing One,
Who fills the dark,
The Mother of everything!
Hail Lupercal!
O hail the Wolf,
Hail the Wild One!
Hail Her Get,
Hail Her Twins,
The Dancers of the Dark!
Hail Lupercal!
O hail the Wolf,
Hail the Hooded Three!
Hail fair Spinner,
Hail sly Weaver,
Hail the dreaded Cutter now!
Hail Lupercal!
O hail the Wolf,
And hail the Keeper Four,
White Fame and Red,
Green Flame and Blue,
Hail the mighty blowing Winds!
Hail Lupercal!
Oh hail the Wolf,
Hail the Goat and Wolf in one!
Lupercalia,
The feast each year,
An offering to God Herself!
~Hail Lupercal! a poem of Lupercalia by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, February 18, 2017
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 6:27 AM UTC
In second grade, we did an experiment with static electricity
We rubbed balloons on our heads,
& stuck them to walls
& kissing you is kinda like that
My hair stands on end,
I get shocked when I touch things
& I want to tell you stupid stuff like,
kissing you is a bundle of kittens
colliding with my face at .5 miles an hour
It's like being shot with a dart gun
made of hummingbirds
that shoots darts made of hummingbirds
& your lips are so soft,
I can't actually tell when we are touching,
like braiding hair underwater,
like napping under a blanket filled with rainbows & clouds,
& your favorite books
When you kiss me,
the cartoon devil & angel on my shoulder
climb into my ears,
like all of my neurons,
& start ******* on my brainsteam
If you were a 300 pound professional weight lifter
& if I were a Kia Sorento,
you could drag me anywhere
Kissing you is patient & impossibly slow,
like peeling paint off the wall with glittery stickers,
or cooking a turkey with a lighter
You remind me of the time in second grade
when Bethany Hopkirk
called me a freak face & stabbed me in the arm with a pencil
Cause kissing you is kinda like that,
unhealthy & will probably result in disfigurement
But baby, bring on the ****** scars & lead poisoning
Cause when you kiss me,
you are dangling me off a bridge by a belt
You are the screen door of my childhood,
all taste & swinging
So full of holes you could never keep anything in
You are every black eye,
you're a semitruck & I'm a turtle with two broken legs,
& a broken heart
You are illegal fireworks falling down stairs together,
driving on four flat tires,
playing frisbee at night with a saw blade
Kissing you is like falling out of a 37 story window,
exploding into a cloud of robins
& reappearing on the ground with my mouth full of feathers
& when I can't kiss you,
I try to find the static electricity in my apartment
I dig around in light sockets,
change lightbulbs with my teeth,
& make out with the toaster
& I know we've only been seeing eachother
for a couple of weeks,
But baby, when you kiss me,
I can't remember my middle name,
or which one is my left foot
So come over tonight
We'll shuffle around the apartment in our socks,
& we'll let our lips drift toward each other,
like tectonic plates made...
out of kittens
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
15 years later, and we came back
the same creaking door announced our arrival
wood paneling and deer antlers seemed to remember us
the same way we started to remember them
six bunk beds and wooden shelves
where I used to put my radio and listen at night
the same key chains hanging from the light strings
we sat at the same wooden table
and put together that circular puzzle that has never left my mind
we went to the river and ran in bare feet
with the same fear of snakes as we did way back then
we sat 17 around the table and ate supper
and did the dishes with boiling water
we played Dutch blitz and card games
and always took someone else with us to the outhouse
we pumped that same water out of the same red pump
and the water had black flecks like it always used to
we all lined up and jumped off the rock in the same order as always
"my name is Bethany and I'm 22"
we hopped in the truck bed and went deer spotting at night
and remembered why we were scared of bears
and I remembered how much I miss being around my sisters
I slept on the top bunk with my sister
and she didn't stick her legs under my back like she always did
we climbed up to the fire tower
and rubbed leaves on our yellow jacket stings
I wish there was a natural remedy for nostalgia
when we left, they ran to the road to say goodbye
like they always did before
and my heart felt like some of it didn't leave with me
it took 15 years, but I came back
Jul 18, 2024
Jul 18, 2024 at 9:45 AM UTC
In the corner of my mind
I saw you in Ruby Tuesday
You were still mine
You were drinking blue moon
I couldn’t laugh anymore
I was a jester you’re buffoon,
All my life is stupid race
Always a “crying disgrace”
I remember but what for?
In the corner of my life
I saw us kissing-laughing-dancing
Four years ago
Everything is still alive
In my heart
We were in TGI Fridays,
In Bethany Blues, Big Fish grill
My life is like a spoilt brat
Runs down the hill.
My days of the week are all Mondays
In the corner of my heart
No more joy, all restaurants are closed
All places reserved
By sadness and fight.
Drink your blue moon
And get out of here.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
I've known you since I was seven,
We were both so far from heaven,
We didn't know,
We would grow.
Apart.
Abused, he was your light,
But he just wasn't right,
For you.
This is for you,
My ballad for you Bethany,
We became friends,
Our parents divorced,
Our life out of sorts,
This is how our lives are bound to go,
But i still can't let go,
You lived with us for three months,
Three months of pain,
Three months of healing,
Three months of me,
Stealing your razor blades,
Because blood doesn't stain sheets.
Not on my watch.
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
The smell of rain,
In the August air,
The fresh air joy,
The moisture comes,
The smell of grass,
It's smiling joy,
Sweet relief,
From Summer heat,
With the grass,
And with the rain,
I smile and laugh,
At its gentle kiss,
A light caress,
Upon my skin,
A lover's touch,
After time apart,
A gentle touch,
Just barely felt,
That in the light,
Delights my soul,
I smile up,
At the shining sun,
Rays through the clouds,
Drops of light,
The drops of rain,
My lover's smile,
Our eyes they meet,
The drops of rain,
Her clear giggle,
The patter falls,
I take her hand,
And round we spin,
A dance of joy,
In August rain.
~August Rain by Bethany Davis, August 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
Mammy had a cauldron of stories,
And Mammy never lied;
Strange tales about the living,
Still touched by those who've died.
She spoke of a friend who read the leafs:
When babies died, she heard banshees;
She foresaw the cornice collapse,
Saved me when I was three.
She whispered these tales
Through pressed lips,
Would pause to sip her tea.
Seers told her of her one-legged mother
Standing guard at the foot of her bed,
Long after she was dead.
One prophet spoke of an open door,
A one-way trip to a foreign shore,
And agonies she'd bend to endure.
For me, these stories rang so true,
For mothers wouldn't lie to you;
Yet Father said she was a sinner,
Spinning yarns against God's will.
That's not the story in Bethany,
Or the fairy homes beneath the hills.
Are there ghosts under our beds,
In the closets in our heads;
Hovering over marked graveyards,
Abandoned houses and Tarot Cards?
When the unknown night tore at me,
I'd been told I could pray
To the Father, Son and Holy Ghost:
Now they're the ones I fear the most,
They're the stories she often chose.
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 10:02 AM UTC
From prophecy to Calvary... Christ's journey was decreed,
From Bethlehem to Bethany... the Lord fulfilled Man's need...
Jerusalem was yet in store... the visitation set,
The time for people to adore... Palm Sunday still and yet...
Beyond that day, Christ faced His fate... Passover to prepare,
Last Supper Christ would celebrate... Gethsemane in prayer...
But then, for Jesus, no way out! The Cross of Calvary!
Despite His fear, despite His doubt! Christ died for you and me...
It's prophecy that led Him still... for He knew all flesh dies,
But He loved God! Obeyed His will... when promised He would rise!
So death was not the end for Christ... or that friend on the cross,
The Lamb of God was sacrificed... God led Him there because
Although we've sinned, our sins are waived! Today, we're Heaven bound!
We've been baptised! We're blessed! We're saved! And yet we're still around!
But there's a day in prophecy, the Rapture of the dead,
And then we, too... yes, you and me... up to our Lord are led!
Denis Martindale March 2018.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
I see your courage, to push though and persevere no matter what difficulties you may face. I see your great sense of humor and how it makes people laugh beyond comprehension.. I see your intelligence it builds your understanding and appreciation for life. I see your spontaneous nature it is what takes away your fear for the uncertainty and destroys your doubt. I see your strength it sends chills down my spine and brings me to my knees in awe..I see your energy it replenishes your very soul and opens up your mind to possibilities.I see your faith and confidence it guides you though obstacles that you would never be able to face alone. I see your intuition its keen to deception which keeps you out of trouble! I see your smile it can illuminate the dark world we live in and makes life worth living.. I see your heart, is it my home where I feel safe and comfortable. I see your beauty, you are the most beatiful creation in the world to me...Its not only my eyes that see you its my heart and mind.. Its every atom that makes me Shawn that sees every atom that makes you Bethany
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 8:03 AM UTC
"you may keep small electronic de-
vices on, but please make sure all
cellular capabilities are
switched off."
then they switch off the cabin lights,
and I am here in the dark, iPod assaulting
my eardrums as iPhone assaults
my retinas. this is
How It's Meant To Be
me and my ephemeral avarice, my
electronic yearning;
Bethany Cosentino is crooning, a
private concert for one, I wish
Allen Ginsberg was my boyfriend;
the other boy isn't like me, he's
prettier but that's nothing
new is it?
of course, Ginsberg is dead and also
forgotten, by and large; same for
D. H. Lawrence, Caravaggio, Joan d'Arc,
all those I drew upon for my Wilde
persona. there is only
me now, and I am
alone.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
You call me a star
But even stars explode.
You call me a fairytale
But even fairytales end.
You call me beautiful
But things change
Grow old
Fade.
You hold me
And sometimes I feel safe
Other times I feel suffocated
Trapped
And want to runaway.
You get mad
When I say I’m tired
And I want to go home
It has nothing to do with you.
I have troubles in my mind
But how can I take care of them
When I’m staying up late
And save no space
To help the craziness
I’ve created.
I can’t remember the last time
I felt this way
Because I’ve never been here before;
How do I go on
Knowing I need independence
But also someone to love.
Your desires of me are destructive
They create expectations
I’ll never meet
I fear the only way
I can survive
Is if I drive away.
I have my Best Coast blasting
Penetrating my ear drums
It’s the only sound
That drowns out the voice
Telling me I’m full of mistakes
And I’ll never be happy.
Sing to me Bethany
Your music is the only remedy
That is able to save me
From this insane pain
Inside my crazy brain.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 1:42 PM UTC
He sings the ghosts,
Gives them voice,
Their memories,
Living in song and verse,
Their pain,
Their joy,
Their life now gone,
Each moments,
Sang but unsung,
Spoken but left silent,
Like a wind,
Blowing,
Forming,
A wind through hearts and souls,
Not felt with skin but hearts,
Each whisper,
Raised in song,
Beyond the words,
Beyond the notes,
Rising,
Living,
Heard yet silent,
Voices long lost,
Quieted,
Silenced,
But he hears,
He sings,
And we feel the wind,
The silent stories,
The lives unknown,
Past but not so lost,
Bells more felt than heard,
Ringing in our souls,
In harmony,
In melody,
In dissonance,
Woven in music,
Unheard with heard,
Unsung with sung,
Unknown with known,
A whisper in the soul,
The bells,
Ringing in the wind,
The wind called forth,
Ghost wind,
Long lost,
But never forgotten,
He sings the ghosts.
~He Sings the Ghosts, an ode to Gordon Lightfoot by Bethany Davis, April 3, 2016
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
For whom do I wait for and for whom do I long,
Through ages and times long past?
Whose touch is it that shakes my soul,
With joy and pleasure full?
Across my back a gentle touch,
That tickles as much as thrills.
Along me sides, I rise to meet,
And kisses my naked neck.
Astride my waste, my shoulders rub,
A weight that comforts and warms.
Along my arms, a gentle stroke,
That raises bumps across my skin.
Moving down on my feet to sit,
And rubs my upraised rear.
And down my thighs and my calves,
And my feet never knew such joy.
You role me over, my front exposed,
Your smile that makes me blush.
Up my legs your hands to roam,
And outward up my hips.
Once more you sit across my waist,
And now our eyes do meet.
Leaning down, you kiss my lips,
And from them come a sign.
You kiss my cheeks and then my nose,
And then my waiting neck.
My eyes are closed as your hands them roam,
And move across my *******
I purr, I stretch, I love your touch,
The play of fingers deft.
How is your touch so well known,
Why do I know it so?
For whom do I wait for and for whom do I long,
Through ages and times long past?
Whose touch is it that shakes my soul,
With joy and pleasure full?
Your kisses come, first on my neck,
And then you kiss my chest.
Down between my lovely breast,
Your kisses pull my heart.
Round the bottom up the sides,
Your lips upon my breast.
Soft as snow and warm as fire,
And wet like springtime dew.
My flesh it moves, alive and free,
Delighting in your kiss.
Flesh to flesh, lip to breast,
Ecstatic joyous me.
First one breast and then the other,
Consuming all of me.
I quiver there beneath your hips,
And beneath your steamy breath.
I'm drowning here in ecstatic joy,
Beneath your loving kiss.
A way to die I'd be glad to have,
An ocean of your love.
Then you stop and give me breath,
And let me settle down.
You look at me with loving eyes,
In in them I am lost.
A smile you give, a crooked smile,
That bodes I know not what.
You hands them move, they touch my *******
Then settle at my waist.
You moved down, I know not when,
For I was lost in bliss.
My waist held firm, your hips descend,
Now I'm like a bed.
Your searching kiss my belly finds,
It tickles and delights.
In circles slow with movements fair,
I giggle on my back.
And down you go, you kiss my hips,
One kiss on either side.
You kiss my mound, you move on down,
Your lips that do delight.
Once more I think and wonder why,
I swear I know your touch.
For whom do I wait for and for whom do I long,
Through ages and times long past?
Whose touch is it that shakes my soul,
With joy and pleasure full?
Your lips are soft, your gentle kiss,
Wet and fully there.
Kiss of delights that finds me there,
Kiss at my most hidden place.
A moving tongue, a searching kiss,
A building wave within.
Forever lost in sweet embrace,
A flower in the spring.
Petals part and nectar flows,
Consumed with daring care.
A flower opened for your joy,
And pleasure for myself.
~For Whom Do I Wait by Bethany Davis, June 1, 2014
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 5:40 AM UTC