Birds lull enchanting eyes closed,
with a feathery kiss of a lullaby;
Timid, temporary breaths sigh into the breeze,
like soft music, playing from a pastel castle,
a muse of life, a soft tune amidst midnight's hue.
This castle held the fantasy
Fantasy became the speaker
Fantasy gave me joy, fun, a longing to last forever
Reality revealed the reasons to "real".
What is the reason love dies?
What is the reason for a hug that halts and never heals?
Why does the carousel continue to ride flashing lights in memories?
Why is a dream short-lived?
I wrote myself out of the fantasy.
Reality defines the whims, my whines, my failed rhythm in a rhyme.
Reality gives reason why the lights in the castle go dim.
Ah!...I beg, I say; save reality to the senior years to one's existence.
Give fantasy a slow race, a slow run to the finish line....
Why do I write
When my castles fall
And every time it takes its toll
I tried to protect it
By guarding the shore
For tides take
What ever I make
My castles are sand
I know its bland
But like my poems
I know its dry
But I always try
To make it glorious
Though my words are not luxurious
For my words are true
No matter how plain
I will protect my castle
No matter what
Even if the tide takes It back
Cause if it falls
I will make it again
Like my poems
Will continue no matter
How much I'm in Pain
I will continue to write no matter how hard it is.
She walks the castle walls at night,
with a rose held fast in her fingers,
the mist rolls away across the land,
the memory of her lover still lingers.
Cold flagstones beneath her slippered feet
hold the histories of the aeons tight.
Old battles, wars, and terrifying sieges,
ghosts of ancient warriors wail in the night.
And still she clutches his parting gift,
she wears the bond burden of his ring,
his love weighs upon her broken heart,
tears flow free with a melancholic sting.
They fall upon the stones and disappear,
additions to the heavy tomes of history,
little gems writing sadness in a story,
as she stares into the distance so wistfully.
© Pagan Paul (10/02/18)
read me that passage again
the one about the guy
who’s got his finger
stuck where it shouldn’t be?
spinning it all the way to the top
and shocking anyone within his view
sammy was his name
and his friends called him
you would see him often
biting the wing of his chicken
(and shaking his head)
zolten would ask;
“you call this a pastime sammy…you call this a pastime?”
sammy would say;
“it’s fine…it’s fine…yes…yes…it’s what i do”
and no one seemed to mind
(save for the chicken)
he was a descendant of an eastern block
a shipol they’d say
eyes red (and full of hope)
toss me one of those medicine *****…and let someone else call the show! today’s line up; boulder dash and surfboards of death! (for they always seem to keep the captain amused)
a big belch
from the little man
has sammy grinning
from ear to ear
and blackened nails
do not cross his mind
(for he’s all about pulling compliments from the day!)
hey wait, he’s stomping now…and mad!
hey wait…it’s passed (look at that, he’s already moving on!)
catch you on the rebound swami!
catch you indeed!
In the Castle of my smile
All lovely words are imprisoned in stone
This place I am King that stretches a mile
My tongue its gilded throne
In the Castle of my smile,
I spy through its bars of milky white
The silky wonderful love of my life
Walk Eden's paradise of light.
In the Castle of my smile,
I weave a golden rope of magic letters,
Gluing jointed lyrics with praise filled ethers
Ignoring the splinters of criticism for better.
My means of escape down the walls to you.
Mystery Island across from me. I wish I had the tools to come
and see all the treasures and secrets within.
I wish I had the means to crossover before it grows too dim.
But instead, I will just sit and wonder what mysteries you hold.
A flower, a book, and a bit room to breathe, I will sit here and
let my imagination run away with me.
Weaving a picture of what is within. I see it as a castle built
from the outside-in.
To read more of my writings go to: http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
Dull, a boy is he
names he would not plea
eyes like baby blue-
lips a crimson hue
Feelings like me and you
Outsiders he'd not choose
In his mansions he bore
with enchanting lore's
drifting away, loosing woes
Traveling in his hallways
a wretched life he portrays
even in his heart, he'd say-
"Loneliness, such a Cliché"
though he's not a devil
-for I believe
tortured, battered on thee
delude by his mistress' skim
portals out from misery
gone himself eagerly
then comes back, with such
for now, a statured man is he
Knights & Kings
upon bended knees
and everything he please
from a man to a boy
-in a dream
A Castle, now he redeems
YES TO "ANTI-BULLYING"
#Boy #Castle #Man #Dream
He could find me
Where no one can
He surprised me
I least expected him
To love me
His mind was a palace
At sixteen we have the world at our feet.
We're building our future with unsteady hands.
One day we might run, leaving this little town in the dust.
Hand in hand. Crowns atop our heads.
The two of us against the world, off to build our own castle.
Battles raging around and between us, but we will win them.
One day we will walk through the doors of our castle, our kingdom, our home.
One day our story will be told.
They will tell it.
We will tell it.
To the little princess or prince that fills our castle with the pattering of little feet, beyond contagious laughter, and more mess than we'll feel we can handle.
It will be wonderful, an adventure we face together.
A journey through life, all our own
Love, your Queen.
In a tower
Fear and hope
But one day
High in the sky
The castle stands strong
Each grain packed together with trust
That they may never separate from each other
The rooms fill with the laughter of a young lady
His hand graze each corner as he follows the familiar scent of his love
He wraps his arms around her waist and breaths in home
She nestles deeper into strong arms
Grey clouds in the sky
The castles stands strong
Sturdy walls stand on a solid promise
To never let go of one another
He paces from one room to another raging in silence
She sits on the edge of her bed with her head held low
He wants revenge for hurt
Sun in the sky
The castle stands strong
Clear windows look out into a bright future
Of a happy life together
Hand in hand they dance through their dreams of solitude
She looks deep in his eyes and sees his soul
He looks deep in her eyes and sees her heart
Stars in the sky
The castle stands strong
Gold ceilings as high as the queens expectations
No one could reach any higher
He hangs from the chandelier to her every word
She wants more than she deserves
The castle is not big enough for their love
Thunder and lightning rip through the sky
Tearing through the sturdy walls
A chilling wind cracking the once clear windows
Piece by piece each grain falls
It crumbles at their feet
Amongst their unforgivable brawls
The castle is only made of sand
It no longer stands tall
The napalan man in a violet cape
descended the stair with a lopsided gait
a wretched procession, subscribers in cue
rattling off as they stream from the pew
sounds and smells from a shadowy place
a catholic priest to gin up base
lanterns strung from bolted doors
cobbled streets and wooden floors
stepping stones and iron bell
fortified by the citadel
hallowed halls and sepulcher
dragon cane for the horse drawn tour
castle turret, archer holes
centaur scribed in chamber bowls
garden columns in courtyard view
the blood ballet and hullabaloo
ancient tombs on warrior grounds
gods and saints who made their rounds
goliath still with battered scythe
knelt in prayer and mummified
battle fires and crowds that roar
gallows, caves, abysmal war
gargoyles flock the terraced *****
pearly gates to bring on hope
serpents, snakes and burning ash
lava bombs and trident clash
mariners drift in absentee
as neptune rises from the Tyrrhenian Sea
playing with the bulls
stabbing the cattle
they are keeping me starving
whilst locked in the castle
but nothing uglier than me
their friends are at the harbour
whilst strangers drown at sea
lying through their teeth
like the old lazy drunk
the ships are on fire
and their friends have all sunk
we're selling the bulls
eating the cattle
the politicians are hanging dead
and the people have the castle
Break your own bones to look the part
Your words are poison to your own soul
Lies are tied loose at the end
So you can untangle them all over again
Manipulate those with strings
Put ones on those who disobey the queen
A sly little devil sat with a crown
A makeshift castle made with a frown
Throne made of eggshells painted in gold
The stench of her pride plague the halls
Oh how daring you are, a threat with no promise
Your sword and men may break on a moments notice
Deny you may of the weight of your weakness
We see the cracks, the glass breaking beneath it
So, for now, I bow to the ruler of all
Who'll fall on her own sword with no one to call
My anger wrote these words.
Your walls held strong
Your defenders standing tall
Will you let me in
If i surrender my keys to you
Well open up your doors
you’ve always had my keys
You just didn’t know how to open my doors yet
December 20, 2018
I visited the same beach,
The beach of our sobriety,
It's there in my memories.
I touched & felt there the sands of time,
The time that we spent in togetherness,
It's a time in that recycle bin of the past.
I shall forget you forever, soon,
This tide of time will help me,
It's going to immerse that sand castle.
I let my ship find her angel,
The angel of my dreams,
It's not long before I touch her.
I see myself visiting her lands,
The lands of beauty and Bihu,
It's just that I realized ships must sail on.
My HP Poem #1738
willets cull the seawall
snappers rest on grill
rock ***** swoon
in shallow lagoons
long boats pass
plovers dance and flutter
handrail frayed and torn
at lovers rock
from the high
thatched roof on a mud wall
fish flags settle score
in a front line march
pillar cracks form
the rust brown scars
elegant tern and grebe
watchmen fall in cue
on crested waves
whimbrels and notchers
perch above tentaciones
the bandits of the sea!
in steady flow
in a tide cooled sand
heerman gull and boobie
durango smoke in yurt
and puffer blimp
castle buckets and scrapers
under dusk light cheroot
six pulls on a lead line
painted toes in sand
in rainbow sun
the portly mexicano
flaunts his tacos
rooster house for marlin
bamboo shoots and sails
and ocean swells
Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight
Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape
I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening
For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….
She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…
The queen will be safe here
from the rabble
The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
Among these lofty cliffs
Between the raging circuit of the tide
Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
Here lovers learn
the debt of love’s bad timing
“Drink ye all of it!”
--the potion that assigns our sorrow….
She will not sleep—
while I chew this gum-- GUM?
Roll down the window!
Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings
As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity
…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly
Their hands steady the wheel
As a fourteen-year old, I picked up a book to read at the beach about the legend of the lovers, Tristan and Iseult. I was so captivated by their story that it ruled my imagination that summer.
Anyway, I still think of it when I think of the ocean-- as I did on this cold dark occasion when I should have pulled off somewhere for a coffee, but I was trying to beat the snow storm home.
Route 84, also known as Dead Bambi Highway, has a desolate, treacherous section going over the mountains between NY and Pennsylvania. Didn't have much option for music at the time, so I leaned heavily on the radio pushing the search button to find anything bearable-- not too much static.
Song reference in this: "Time of the Season" by the Zombies-- all time favorite beach song that happened to be on the radio that night.