"pelters" poems
nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes
a forests breath
with death ripe
just a day in paradise,
that's all i pray.
no fool for a price
nor a herd for a prize
malfunctioning slight
chocked with parasites
just a day in paradise,
if it wasn't for today.
spoiled thoughts
and foiled spite
caught then boxed
with no air to bite
lost and left,
kept for the nights
in transparent red
herein painted quiet
just a day in paradise,
for the one who pays.
in a stranger's head
with debt of dice
where heaven lays
and the dead shall rise
seven solemn days
that'll never come twice
mourning for prey
by a mornings pride
just a day in paradise,
for a day in paradise
if it wasn't for today.
kissed by the fire
shut with wire
no word nor desire
and made in ice
broken prism's charm
in arms of a lover
born away and in white
doused in hope
and not a dime to pay
no dream nor life
just a day in paradise,
and it'll never go away.
where beauty slays
and inferno hides
dante's meal
and a mountains might
where a valley bleeds
from a pelters diet
melting the stones
and people alike
just a day in paradise,
that's all there's to say.
whence scars bleed
opened far wide
and the hour sleeps
in fear and fright
where words fail
to tell and describe
rotten and stale
fighting the lights
just a day in paradise,
for the one who stayed.
nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes
a forest's breath
with death ripe
just a day in paradise,
and that's all i pray.
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 4:39 PM UTC
It was on a harsh winter day some long time ago.
The ice-lased winds rocked the leaves to and fro.
And even though it'd been around for a while,
The great big tree could only give a wry smile.
The forest which stood still now shook and shimmered.
The hands of death upon which had been delivered.
The animals burrowed deep in search of shelter
As the snow poured down from sky-high pelters.
The tree stood tall protecting its creatures
Despite the fact they were now just leechers.
For the tree did not care about the suffering it brought upon itself
The reason being that life can only last so long
So as long as it could serve to nurse others to health
He did not mind if this was his last song.
The sky grew dimmer with the bristle of the leaves
The howl of the night had only just begun
And upon his barks lay all the memories
That inspired the tone with which he now hummed.
And despite the fact it didn't speak any form of word
The song it formed spoke clearly still,
"Winds of the night, let my voice be heard,
These creatures shall befall no ill.
It matters not if mother nature hark,
For this is my rebellious last testament."
The wind picked up, the snow pounding upon his bark,
His words now used to his own detriment.
Yet no matter how long the night threatened to last,
Cherry blossom after cherry blossom wilting away,
The tree stood strong and tall and spoke aloud.
The words clear to those within its *****
"The forest is not yours to claim
For they are who raised me well
And if you think you can take them from me
You'll drag me down to hell."
And so the fight went on for as long as the moon stood tall,
Yet morning still came and the sun rose once more.
The forest felt safe and the blizzard had passed.
And yet the sight of the tree beckoned mourning,
From all the generations who lived and died with him.
Perhaps he simply couldn't suffer the pain any longer.
The cherry blossom wilts.
Nov 29, 2021
Nov 29, 2021 at 5:14 PM UTC