"silvertongue" poems
-
*Lead dripping from
empty sockets,
a clock hissed in serpent hours,
it's venom oozing from the crystal walls*
it's 4 a.m. you insomnia lunatic.
*I'm too busy admiring,
how the man in the moon slithered through
these blinds on my soul-swept window.
That night I was a canvas,
as the moonlight stripped my arm raw of shale,
and tinted my skin with*
silvertongue.
***And when he was finished,
tiger stripes tattooed my thinning vessel.***
-
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
O husband, behold the marks that mar your handsome face!
The angry red where poison left its sting,
Where my arms trembled.
Where I failed to save you,
If ever you were mine to save.
O husband, remember when your eyes first met mine!
We were so young,
When we married beneath the world tree.
When we danced among cowslips and primroses,
Like life would always be dancing.
O husband, think fondly on the first child!
Meant to be a great warrior,
Born as night broke into dawn.
Born a prince who would never be king,
By no fault of his own doing.
O husband, think too on the second son!
The magician and scholar,
Gentle in thought and action.
Gentle in word and deed,
That innocent youth.
O husband, cry for that betrayal!
The punishment passed down
By highest authority and greatest king.
By queen who shared my lineage,
Who in punishing you punished us all.
O husband, forgive my tears!
Those that drip down my face,
Landing on our dirtied robes.
Landing on your ashen skin,
As cooling as the poison is hot.
O husband, my strength grows weak!
She the always faithful,
My arms burn with the weight of two small corpses.
My arms sing with the agony of venom,
Fingers trembling where they grasp the golden bowl.
But O husband, I shall never leave!
Faith unwavering I sit by the eternal flame,
My husband the Silvertongue whose voice has long gone out.
My husband the Sky Traveler, who now lays bound to the earth,
I shall hold the bowl unto eternity.
O husband, behold the marks that mar that handsome face!
The angry red where poison left its sting,
Where it is soothed by the tears from mine own cheeks.
Where I failed to save you,
If ever you were mine to save.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 12:50 AM UTC
How dare I living among the dead?
How dare I stand where death has tread?
How dare I take a stranger’s tomorrow?
How dare I steal joy from their sorrow?
How dare I smile in the tears?
How dare I brave through your worst fears?
How dare I want what you cannot?
How dare I take for what you fought?
How dare I run when you just crawl?
How dare I have silvertongue instead of your drawl?
How dare I own your dreams and needs?
How dare I bite your hand that feeds?
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
the sun is in her smile and
the planes are constant so my
adventure to you is just an
impulse away, dear. my eyes don’t
really twitch in the sunlight, but ****
i swear you have me blind. i think
i’m becoming fond of this lifestyle we set
for ourselves, not the ones our parents told
us at the age of three years ago. time is just
racing and i don’t know whether or not
we’ll win. but i believe in god; he has my mouth
and your voice; he had my mothers brain and
my dad’s stubbornness but this
life isn’t perfect, but i want
you to know that you make it.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
spitting words like venom,
your words are like shots to the heart.
as we withdrew our weapons -
increasing pace, i want to hurt you.
snarling, the silver lining of your kiss -
did it ever matter, at all?
and now look what it's come to,
guns to each others' heads.
we know each other. our shots can't miss.
Take this. And this. And this. And this.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 12:37 PM UTC
I wish I could explain in a way that makes rational sense.
I've been scouring my mind for an easy way to phrase
the actions that came so cruelly to my heart last night.
Nothing is ever private. We should have known.
I wish I could have had the foresight to be more careful,
to hold myself back from being so arrogantly confident
that no one would find out until the time had come.
It isn't your fault.
It is mine.
Forbidden contact, that's what this is.
No more texts, no more messages....
nothing.
It breaks my heart in two, and I wish I could find a way
to help you feel less heartbreak than I.
This storm feels neverending.
In this past week I have felt more alive
than I thought possible.
And now your sorrow turned to rage
breaks it into a million pieces that I thought
it would never have to suffer through.
I wish privacy was so well practiced.
But not now, not today.
And so with a heavy heart, I bid you adieu,
my prince, my star, my superhuman silvertongue.
I will miss you more than I can say.
I will miss us.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 2:11 PM UTC
Sometimes the world revolves like your favorite CD. The sunshine beckons, great adventures await.
Sometimes the world is slow, like a 45 on 33 - taking the long-play to the end of the day.
Sometimes you twist and shout.
Sometimes you hide and cry.
I am sometimes the rain which falls. My middle name is silvertongue. I am the honeybee in dance. I dive like a kingfisher into the wild river.
Today I am the sun, warming the day.
Sometime I'll dance your way.
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 8:48 AM UTC
Faerie;
With your golden eyes,
your sharp-toothed smile,
the words you spin in gossamer,
in starlight,
in orb-weaver silk.
You compose
a symphony in mycelium:
Each tree an instrument,
each interwoven root
a note in harmony.
Silvertongue, sundew,
you have set a snare with green willow,
a net of blackberry thorns,
baited it with honey.
All around, the evergreen pines,
the winter roses bloom.
A sweet end,
arranged in perfect circles
for you and I alone.
I step, happily, toward your waiting arms—
for with your clever, clever fingers,
oh,
sunflower,
you have
stolen
me
away.
Oct 27, 2019
Oct 27, 2019 at 1:50 AM UTC
Dying, living,
Fading, growing,
is there even a difference?
Anger, yes.
Oh, yes.
I
can
feel the
horrors
and it is a comfort to know
that I still have
the ability
to actually
feel something,
anything...
it wafts from your writing
like red, animaic lines
that cause mania
and madness
like the roots
you speak of.
but i know anger too.
i know now what it feels like to want
nothing more than to smash
a windowpane
and watch it's pieces
embed themselves
in the eyes that hurt
you beyond compare
and even those
that didn't.
I know the unwanting,
the unfeeling,
the uncaring.
And I feel it.
Because I am no longer a fellow silvertongue, oh no.
I am but
a simple
machine.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
I looked up from where I landed,
And saw a face peeking over the edge.
Overcome with curiosity,
I forced myself to rise,
And came face to face with a startled girl.
And we started to talk.
I stopped a girl on the edge of the road,
The road we all walk together,
Yet alone.
Her face was red,
Eyes bleary,
Makeup smeared.
She kept murmuring:
"He doesn't love me...
He never did."
Your life isn't about gaining approval from others.
Her head snapped up.
"Who said that?"
An old soul who has walked the same path. The difference is you still have a choice.
A broken sob.
"But it was all a lie..."
Then find something real.
And something clicked in her eyes.
"Who are you?"
*They used to call me The Silvertongue.
But the question you should be asking is who are* you?*
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 8:54 AM UTC
It may be low of me to even so much as assume that you're still there, still listening.
But I'm still here, ever the quiet sufferer and silent muse.
My silvertongue has gone hazy.
To make way for gold?
Perhaps not.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 11:17 PM UTC
And I never told you how I feel
Poisoned, like a tired old thing which has
Died and been magicked back to life in the same
Lumpy, raggedy body
Sawdust at the seams, eyes dull from rubbing
A velveteen rabbit worn to skin, fit for the fire to
Wash away the contagion and stink of sickness
I convince myself this is not the case I
Convince people around me this is not the case but after the
Parties are done and the work is gone and the exams are finished I feel
That weariness in my bones that this is who I am
A dead thing that pretends to be alive
You called me silvertongue once,
‘You could sell beans to a bean farmer,’
Let me do you one better, bud,
I’ve been selling beans to myself knowing
That they will never grow
I spit them around me when I feel the grit in my mouth like
Malformed pearls, nuptial gifts to myself
The ultimate scam, they build and build around me, they balance on each other
Higher and higher they pile, pebbles on rocks until they wall me in and I think
This time with fear
What if they grow? What happens if they grow?
Is this what life is? Am I doing it?
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 12:30 AM UTC
I have come to terms with the fact
That you are the real Silvertongue,
And I no longer have a claim on the title.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 2:28 AM UTC
Someone, please help me.
I'm looking for a friend.
One I have not seen in quite some time.
He left me empty.
Perhaps you know him?
The Silvertongue?
He who was the weaver of words,
The teller of tales
And the creator of worlds?
He was so quick with his tongue.
His humanity was intact,
Yet he was not foolish.
He understood people
And cared about them.
It matters not...
The Silvertongue is gone I guess.
I wish I could bear the name of one so great.
Bah, such thoughts are foolish.
Do not wish for things that cannot be.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 1:02 AM UTC
Well, hello there.
I won't be here long.
Just wished to greet old friends.
Figured while I was about
I could slightly lessen
My overabundance of words.
Lately they seem to trip,
Sometimes stumble over each other.
My mind still screams,
But it is subdued.
My scars are still there,
But they have faded somewhat.
I do miss you all,
Playing games of words.
Tossing similes across the way,
Almost like playing literary dodge ball.
Anywho,
I wish you all the best,
Of pain I wish you less.
~The Silvertongue~
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 8:37 AM UTC