It was a night of music softly playing, listlessly upon the bed I was laying,
Lying awake with toss and turns without subtle hints of a snore…
And whilst this time my eyes did wander, avoiding the lids they should be under,
Suddenly as I was under, under the spell of consciousness I could not ignore…
“No, this cannot be,” I whispered, “this insomnia I cannot ignore;
Awake I lied, sleeping never more.

The clock soon read the 30th minute of two, and it was now that I knew
As I stares bleakly to the scuffled patterns of my feet on the carpet floor,
I tried to rise up from bed in hopes to gain; fatigue made that attempt in vain.
My eyes wrought forth tears from burning pain, the nightly air made them sore…
The darkness of the night air now silent but dry has left them burning sore,
Craving the sleep that comes never more.

My blanket held the rustling of my body so violently tussling
In anger—such anger that the blanket had suddenly tore;
And so now I laid there, with fluff of stuffing my blanket was ‘bleeding’,
“I fear that this must be the sleep I’ll crave, yet ignore,
For it seems odd this craving my body would so deviously ignore."
Still awake I lied, craving sleep ever more.

Restless I turned to my side, when then my eyes grew joyously wide,
“I had forgotten,” said I. “Cure for restless sleep, this bottle does implore";
Unfortunately, I took some previously- the limit to such an aid is a pity,
And the clock had struck three, three hours I am forced to ignore,
"Oh, the sleep that I needed…” I mourned softly on the time I had to ignore.
“I want sleep and nothing more!”

All the time I laid staring, the darkness faded, the sun now glaring;
Forcing a retreat of the darkness covering the scuffled patterns on the carpet floor.
A dawn’s glow shined with brilliance, against my eyes so red and resilient,
The sleep, once again a night of rest I craved for my body, so weary and sore,
For the sake of my eyesight now the sun’s gleam had made ever so sore
“Sigh, ‘tis another fortnight I sleep never more.”

© 2011

Sunlight

There was a sunlit absence.
The helmeted pump in the yard
heated its iron,
water honeyed

in the slung bucket
and the sun stood
like a griddle cooling
against the wall

of each long afternoon.
So, her hands scuffled
over the bakeboard,
the reddening stove

sent its plaque of heat
against her where she stood
in a floury apron
by the window.

Now she dusts the board
with a goose's wing,
now sits, broad-lapped,
with whitened nails

and measling shins:
here is a space
again, the scone rising
to the tick of two clocks.

And here is love
like a tinsmith's scoop
sunk past its gleam
in the meal-bin.

2. The Seed Cutters

They seem hundreds of years away. Brueghel,
You'll know them if I can get them true.
They kneel under the hedge in a half-circle
Behind a windbreak wind is breaking through.
They are the seed cutters. The tuck and frill
Of leaf-sprout is on the seed potates
Buried under that straw. With time to ****,
They are taking their time. Each sharp knife goes
Lazily halving each root that falls apart
In the palm of the hand: a milky gleam,
And, at the centre, a dark watermark.
Oh, calendar customs! Under the broom
Yellowing over them, compose the frieze
With all of us there, our anonymities.

I.
with my hand clutching my heart,
i anxiously swept my feet across
the hallway lined with a hundred artworks,
only to discover at the very end
that mine was just
one place short of an award.

i run all the way back the long hallway
to hide teardrops in a dark lonely corner
until my father
came and gave me
a comforting embrace.
his strong hands patted me on the back,
my tears stained his crisp polo as
i buried my face in his chubby belly.
he told me
that i'm the greatest artist
and that no matter what
he loves me.

II.
seeds planted in me bloomed
into realizations
and those realizations bred feelings
and like a tidal wave
the sea of emotions
surged over me
and overflowed to my eyes
chest felt heavy and
my head felt light.

i made my way through the dark and crowded room
to my brother
and in front of all his friends
tackled him in a hug.
he scuffled my hair and locked me in his arms,
and i couldn't believe he hugged me back
instead of pushing me away.
he told me
that he was stupid
and that he was sorry.

III.
he held me back as everyone else went down
the winding staircase.
i knew too well that this day would come
but i injected myself with lies
that February can feel like forever.
but the truth prevailed
and the truth hurts.

our cheeks brush and blush.
he got me on the tips of my toes
and his thick sweater caught my tears
as we wrap each other in a long embrace.
i let go of him and dropped my hands
because the moment felt too right but
he hugged me tighter
and he swayed me
gently
   back and forth...
       back and forth...
           back and forth...
contrary
to the wild beat of my heart.
he told me
his final goodbye
and that he will miss me.

Wild winds pushed my hair back
I had no compass to keep me on track
The winter's cold has swallowed my legs
Through the wastes of snow;
World, may I be your scuffled window.

Dry air feeds my lungs.
Ice has taken over where I left my guns
Traveling night and day;
Through the dreams and throughout my soul
The road's path began with a hole.

There's no way to look back
Any distraction will throw you off track
Through the icy scapes of the heart;
I made this path on my own,
To turn it into frozen stone.

Fire.
Eyes.
Feeling.                                gone.­
Freezing, but warm to the touch.
I thought I had pulled my heart through too much.

Now frozen in my own path.
Icicle beard man I am.
Frozen in place, my legs will not budge.
I went too far from the fire didn't I?
And now I know, I'll never make it back alive.

I kneeled on the polished wood floor, panting and sweating. My body was writhing in pain, having been mercilessly beaten two masked men; I knew not who they were or why they had come for me. Nor did I know where I was now. I didn’t know anything anymore; everything was drowned in a rising sea of confusion. There was nothing but my battered body, slowly letting forth blood and the wooden floor, gluttonously sapping the heat from my hands and legs and hoarding it within its cold, polished surface.
My ears perked as I heard a noise outside of my elegant prison. As I strained my ears to their fullest extent, I almost grasped what the sound was. Soon, there were several noises and they were louder than the original one. After an unknown period of time, I recognized the sounds as speech even though I could not understand it. Fear swelled within my heart. I feared that the goons who had battered me and sealed me in this room were among those who conversed in the hallway and what horrific things they would do to me if they returned. I prayed for the voices to stop, for them to leave. I waited for the worst, but prayed for the best. I silently and fervently prayed to a God that I only halfway believed in.
Silence. My prayers had been answered. I let out a sigh of relief. It was the first unrestricted breath I had taken since my troubles began. I savored this breath; I inhaled solace and exhaled fear. I rose to my knees and straightened my weary back, feeling the bones crack several times. How wonderful it felt to be upright again!
The doorknob clicked. My eyes darted toward the door. Almost immediately, five men entered, all of them splendidly dressed. They walked with elegance, like kings. Two of them stood at the back of the small room, their eyes watching me like those of a bird of prey pondering ******* a rat. A large man approached me, slowly but menacingly with his great girth shifting with every step. I felt my body tense as I waited for him to strike me. Even with this, I noticed the other two men standing in the corner, continuing their conversation. I tried desperately to listen in. Perhaps they would mention why I was here? But no understanding was to be gained as I could not understand a single word. I recognized the language, however, was Mandarin. Without a moment’s notice, I felt a shove and my chest and face came into an abrupt and painful contact with the floor. It took me a moment to realize that the fat man had kicked me. He shouted at me, in an unintelligible anger. I rose back to my knees and hands and looked into the face of my assaulter.
He was massive. His body was that of a great pig in an elegant, well-tailored suit. His skin was a very tanned yellow and his hair was combed back. He had an upturned nose and small, accusatory eyes glistening with ire as he looked down upon me. He stood before me with a sinister smile as my eyes wandered to his hands. I watched as he ran a fat, jeweled hand over a gorgeous cane. As he continued to stroke the cane, I wondered how he would abuse me next. He circled me once and stopped at my side, his patent leather shoes shining brightly. I could see nothing else of him but his shoes. At that moment, he shouted something at me, and beat me with the cane.
I could not understand his question. Had he asked me about drugs, embezzling, money? I knew nothing of such matters, for I was a simple person. The second I replied “I don’t know”, he struck me again and again, over and over. He soon began to kick me simultaneously, until I collapsed back onto the floor. My stomach and legs had had about all they could take. I was already bruised and I could feel my bones aching. I began to cry. I thought of my husband and my daughter and wondered if I would ever be able to return home. Surely they would wonder why I had not returned home by now and would worry. I somehow believed that I would not ever see them again. It was a terrifying thought.
The pig man began to giggle hideously, his voice gurgling and unpleasant, sounding simple-minded and unrefined. He then began to **** my shoulder with his magnificent cane as he began to tease me, like a demented child. I thought him to be a savage, uncivilized and impolite. For some reason though, I could not completely fear him; I could only hate him. One of the two men in the corner addressed me, and scuffled to my front. His plain face addressed me with a cool and aloof manner, showing neither disgust nor compassion. His spoke to me with a tone that was calculating and observatory and it made me long to know what he was saying even more. But somehow, I welcomed his presence. He was so much less offensive, not striking me or adding to my confusion. He turned away and addressed his companion, who was now seated at the beautiful mahogany desk at the front of the room. His gestured to me rigidly and spoke smoothly to the man.
I could not see the other man particularly well, as the room was dim and most of his form was hidden from me by shadows. How I wished they could have hidden the pig man as effectively. The cold man then knelt to my level and my eyes rose to meet his. I was afraid of what someone so stoic would do to me. I knew not what he was thinking. His slender lips parted.
“Do not fake ignorance. We know it was you.” he said slowly, the words slipping from his lips like water. I was relieved to discover that one of them spoke English. Perhaps he could help me understand why I was brought here.
“What was me? I have not done anything! I promise you!” I had no earthly idea what he believed I had done. I was completely ignorant. I wracked my mind, hoping to think of any obscure reason as to why they had apprehended me and what I might have done to anger them so. His eyes never left mine. He slowly blinked and reopened his eyes. They were cold and unforgiving, shining brightly like black, polished beads. I felt shivers travel down my spine and into my legs. His blank stare somehow felt like a death sentence. He rose and continued to speak to the man at the desk, who was shuffling through papers, and rummaging through what I believed to be a cash box.
With a quiet emission of speech from the man behind the desk, the room grew silent. He rose from the desk and floated over to my limp body. His feet glided gracefully, always stepping perfectly. With only a short phrase, the cold-eyed man walked away. I panicked. He was the only one who could understand what I was saying. I scrambled after him, grabbing onto his leg, begging him to allow me to accompany him to anywhere but this frightening room. Without so much as a glance at me, he shook his ankle free and departed. I felt my only chance at freedom leave with him. A chill passed through my body as I submitted to silent desperation. I lowered my head and cried.
The man gestured me back to him, calling to me in his exotic language as he switched on the desk lamp, allowing me to see him. I was nervous from having seen the two goons at the back of the room. His appearance alone was a relief. As I crawled toward him, I felt that I was meeting a god.
He wore a red silk jacket, embroidered intricately and elegantly with gold flowers and calligraphy that I wished I could read. His hand bore a simple ring, silver with a round stone in the middle, obviously jade. His face was no less impressive. He had smooth pale yellow skin and pleasing brown eyes, large and misty. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His smooth lips were wrapped around a long and slender pipe. I watched him inhale and exhale a dancing little cloud of smoke, admiring how gorgeously his chest rose and fell. He looked somehow lukewarm, neither kind nor cruel, not gracious or threatening. He spoke briefly to the two men standing steadfastly at the back. I immediately knew that the graceful one was the leader of this group.
One of the two men grabbed me by my arms, shocking me while the other proceeded to unbutton my ripped and sullied shirt. Why were they removing my clothing? Were they planning to **** me and dispose of me afterward? I feared the worst as they removed my shirt and bra, revealing my upper torso and proceeded to roughly remove my pants as I struggled to free myself. Once I was completely naked, they released me and I crouched upon the ground and cried. Soon, they would have their way with me. One of the lesser men picked up my clothing and inspected the pockets as if he was searching for something. Whatever he was expecting to find was beyond me. I looked back up at the beautiful man, wondering what horrors he had in store for me. His eyes met mine and we both stared for a long time; our gazes were only interrupted once we heard the crumpling of paper.
The both lesser men were inspecting a sheet of paper that they had found in my pocket. One of them waved it about triumphantly and handed it over to the boss. He too examined the paper as an expression of mild confusion overcame his round face, like a moon as it waxes and wanes. Once he grew frustrated with the paper, he handed it to me speaking in his foreign tongue. I did not need a translation, he wished for me to decipher the paper somehow. I inspected the paper with weary eyes and gasped. It was a shopping list! I tried to explain to the boss that the contents of the paper were merely what I planned to purchase for tonight’s dinner. I could tell that he did not completely believe me. His eyes grew suspicious and uncertain. I felt that somehow, this man’s displeasure would be enough for him to end my earthly life.
He took the paper from me and twirled his pipe in the fingers of his opposite hand. He picked up a piece of paper from his desk, comparing the two papers as he delicately balanced his pipe between his teeth. The look of confusion vanished from his face, looking as if he deciphered my language. Perhaps he would set me free? Surely, he could not draw a valid conclusion from a shopping list. He spoke to his subordinates with resolve and confidence, seeming somehow certain of something. He spoke like he uncovered a key detail that unlocked a great mystery. I knew not what he was speaking of, but I knew that he had decided what to do with me. I was somehow more afraid than ever, thinking that he would somehow ****** me, despite my innocence. He kneeled to my level and took my face into his hand and plunged his hand into one of his pockets. I feared that he would pull out a gun or a knife. I snapped my eyes shut, and was afraid to open them again. He spoke a benign and gentle-sounding word and immediately, I felt something graze my face.
Against my better judgment, I opened my tearful eyes, and saw that he was wiping my face with a handkerchief. He wiped my tears away from face. After my face was clean and dry, he swept my hair from my face. I tried to decipher his eyes, looking for a twinkle of kindness of a glint of malicious intent. He gave no such signal. Instead, he placed the handkerchief into my hand. He rose, looking mighty and fearsome and rose his pipe to his lips, but not taking a puff. Even though he looked non-threatening, his lack of emotion baffled me and I was somehow more afraid than ever, despite his fleeting moment of kindness. He rose an elegant and slender hand and waved dismissively toward me. He gestured to the two men and pointed toward the door. He was completely silent. I was about to be taken away.
The two subordinates grabbed me by the underarms, one on each side of me and stood me up clumsily. I watched as the gorgeous boss began to inhale slowly, savoring the flavor of his tobacco. I somehow felt that his breath was connected with my life, that I was doomed to die the moment that little puff had been expelled. The men began to drag me away with my bare heels dragging along the ground. I watched the boss desperately, praying that he would say something that could save me as the goons dragged me over the threshold of the door. One of them placed a bag over my head just as I saw the boss emit a thick smoke which masked his face, the way that clouds hide the elusive moon. I was blinded, but knowing that I was about to be killed. I did not need any clues to be sure of it. The boss had exhaled and I knew that by the time the smoke had cleared, I had vanished from his view.

Beech trees like cathedral pillars soar
To vaulted ceilings oozing dapple-green,
Where twinkling sunlight, filtering to the floor
Dilutes the dusky darkness in between.

A concert hall, acoustically tuned
To amplify each tremorous touch of stick
On wood, where silent magic is cocooned,
Responding to the scuffled tap and tick

From scrunching undergrowth, where dusty death
And dried decay seep back to nature’s store,
To resuscitate with pungent earthy breath
The spirit of the leafy forest floor.

Behold the Weight upon my back,
In stunning armor, no luster lack.
He rides and rides till break of day,
Plotting out the fastest way.
To save a damsel in distress,
A challenge conquered by the best.
Riding above the mountains and the sea,
But really he sits. He sits on me.

We arrived at our destination,
He prepares for his occupation,
of rescuing princesses from a tower.
For that is all that's in his power.
So there I wait, and watch him leave,
Walking to the gates with ease.
He left me with no water to drink,
So I decide to wait and take a leak.

It was minutes until he came out,
Running around and all about.
A young girl upon his shoulder,
Just as the night was growing colder.
He threw the ***** upon my saddle,
And loaded me up like some cattle.
He jumped up and decided to scream,
"RUN RUN, YOU ******* STEED!"

And so I ran, as they both sat,
Galloping hard as those two chat.
They spoke of riches and much gold,
Of their parents, all reasonably old.
We arrived at the great castle gates,
As I was reminded of how little I ate.
Looking over at a couple of goats,
Munching on delicious oats.

I was drawn, for I was starved,
But into my side, my Weight carved.
He pulled my reins towards the castle gate,
He would not dare to be late.
When we had made our approach,
He tied me to a very strong post.
"Stay here and don't move," he said to me.
"I'll come back later, you will see."

He entered the gates and let me be.
I waited for the night, but did not see
The Weight come back, like he said he would,
I was hoping he was not gone for good.
It was then that I saw a shadow move.
It was a superstition that I did not approve.
Behold, a thief in the night,
Come to steal with all his might.

In his hand, he held a large bag,
Of gold and jewels, and royal flag.
He leaped upon my back to escape,
His confidence left my mouth agape.
I dare not move, my Weight will return,
Him and his wicked little spurs.
The thief leaped off and scuffled around.
He went into the stable to bring a bag, round.

He opened the bag, and there I did see.
A bagful of oats, and they were all for me!
He took a handful and put them to my nose.
I ate them all quickly, fastest I chose.
He patted my hair, and gave me a scratch,
He sang me a song, and let me relax.
He leaped on my back and spurred one last time.
I gave him a prize, because he gave me mine.

The Dragon

Bowels of earth emitting sulphurs' acrid stench,
This denizen of darkness dank,
Dragon stood with baited breath,
Unfurling vein engorged wings,
While peeking out for little things,
As tasty titbit,
He could nibble,

Then a maiden strolling by caught this wicked dragons eye,
Lost his hunger for his lunch,
Fancied woman for his munch,
This dragon was a little *****,
Didn't fancy woman mornay,

He fancied love this tragic dragon,
Scuffled over smiling sweetly,
As only dragon can,
She was frightened totally and called out to her man,
Her man he came to rescue her from this scary dragon chap,
What a huge mishap,
His lady ran, she rushed away,
While man became the dragon's lunch!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
A little humour for you!

Sometimes I mine for echoes
Ghosts of sounds within me still
Cicadas and the clash of boules
Soft voices from the hill

Two young boys tongue-tied in the sun
Barefoot on summer's shore
Soft feet licked clean by freedom's whim
With oceans to explore

My mother nurtured flowers
Drowning shadows out with paint
The brightness of geraniums
The patience of a saint

My father cut the grass too much
And ran to clear his mind
Until the echoes of the Angelus
Beseeched him to unwind

My brother lined his time with books
He tore through Willard Price
And towed me just behind him
Through the fronds of paradise

Marauding hornets launched their raids
From castles in the attic
While Stanley mined for longwave gold
From seams deep in the static

And all the while
My granny kept her patience in the shade
Her deck of cards adorned with birds
Their feathers slightly frayed

The swallows scythed through open skies
Back home where they belonged
And like Narcissus, swooped from height
To kiss the surface of the pond

The wasps built paper palaces
The geckos froze on sight
And midwife toads woke from their doze
To tune up for the night

As daytime took its leave
We sought out satellites and stars
Then lay in quiet contemplation
Watching Venus waltz with Mars

I remember cowboys’ breakfasts
With my father by the lake
Freewheeling with the moon roof open
For freewheeling's sake

We wore our bike tyres paper thin
Climbed castle walls unseen
Dived into lakes to race for ducks
And ruled the world at just thirteen

We fashioned bows and arrows
From the saplings in the wood
Sprung ambushes from chestnut shade
And fell dead where we stood

We roamed the dust-filled houses
On the back streets off the square
An ageless band of soldiers
Feigning death without a care

We raced around the wood yard
Sometimes scuffled in the dust
We traded glances with the neighbours' girls
And felt the nascent tug of lust

We sought out mischief in the hills
Stole naughtily from shelves
Smoked roll-ups in a Dutch girl's car
Unclipped our wings and helped ourselves

When first we met, the winds were brisk
almost bone chilling
The harsh breeze cut loose the leaves
from boughs with one foot in the grave

You weren’t one for first impressions.
You were brash
You nipped my hands
and mocked my trembling
like a parrot

I hated your foliage
It was colored in drab hues
browns, reds, oranges and pale yellows
and I was painted with that same brush
I could have blended in
with my sallow skin
and flimsy flesh

I tried to pretend you didn’t exist
I didn’t wear a cotton scarf
I didn’t wear wooly boots
I didn’t wear a button-up-coat
and I paid no heed to the missing sun

I let your cold arms coil around me
like the serpent you were
and I sunk my teeth into forbidden fruit

I tasted the acrid nectar
and I waited
for it to poison my thoughts
but it didn’t

And soon I heard the ringing of your leaves
I scuffled at first
then swayed in time to your bells
humming their diaphanous chime
and I hung bells from my neck
so you could sway to mine

I saw everything rupturing with its last beauty
and then I knew why they called you “Fall”
Because while everything was falling,
I had fallen
for you

The plot unravels in a place where there is a conflict,
The Just turns the **** locking arms with the Instinct,
Wrapped around a ribbon of constant struggle,
Not an inch of movement was seen to loosen the knot,
Warped under a sheet of plastic paper it carries the thought,
Caught in feet of the moment loved and boggled,
Altruid and Maltruid speaking into the world,
Reflection of mists and essences scuffled into artificial pearls,
It peaks as they peek the unended curiosity,
Whilst the mirror is fuzzing and buzzing,
Of their frail but truthful simple realities,
The key to the treasure they do not see when those eyes are in pus,
.
.
.
.
They yearn or want to call everybody an "Us".

Your face isn't the same face
That scowled me when I was a child
Its softer now - wiser and older.

Your body isn't strong like it should be
A sickness has seeped into
The crevices of your being -
But its spared your heart.

Through a child's eyes you were selfish
Strict and staunch and angry -
Never letting us do as others did.

I thought as a child when I grew up
I'd see differently through an ageing mind
Of how you only meant to protect me.

Sometimes I long for the return of my child-innocence
I am still young, but my life has made me cold.
An aged mind shows a story of a different kind.

All the times I found you crying on the tiles
The way you'd scream and panic in public
Why no one was ever aloud come to our door.

You struggled with the darkness placed in your mind
Day after day you scuffled through
Raising three screaming children
Protecting them from the world and you.

I long to be strong like you mother -
To guide you to the light
And apologise for all the times I added to your plight.

I’ve scuffled with wanting greatness,
A grip that’s held onto me tight
Squeezing the life out til I’m just tired
Weak and stressed
Wanting everything to be just alright

A **** remark
extinguished her, there was
this sunlit absence,

his fingers scuffled
over the drawing board,
its white background

sent a reflection of brilliance
against her like a shield,
to where she stood

still not holding the candle
to him, to his wits,
his superior eloquence,

as she was shrinking
in silence, a wilted
violet losing its scent .

That’s when he spoke again,
very slowly and in a low tone
nearly inaudible

while his pen made a scraping noise
emulating the shape of her eyes,
and the gentle curve of her lip.

His words fell like ink blobs
onto her face and gradually dissolved
blotting out its contours.

i'm mount st helen and i'm about erupt and spew this magma all over your  sacred, unchallenged city
yosemite national park am i and this geyser is about unleash steam deep into your ****** pores
you'll get a steam cleaning better than most nurturing spa's give in their treatment
you're that piece of slightly scuffled down fabric and i'm a needle dying to put my thread through your ever so narrow orifices
i'm the whale and i've been submerged in water long enough to have my blow hole spray like an 18th century stone sculpted fountain
i'm a landmine waiting to be triggered and you just miraculously stepped on my area of the turf
i'm the colours of holi and you just walked through an empty corridor paralleled with balconies of festive celebrators in your brand spanking new WHITE nikes and plain white 'mother says don't get your new shirt ***** or you'll be handwashing this with a gallon of detergent' t-shirt
i'm aaa--aaAAA--- AUHHHHHHHHHHH

i'm at peace once again,,, but i'm - a - building it up just again

**** THIS ISOLATIon