Tortured Forms
Tortured forms wrought in panes,
of glass loom
as dust dances through the air,
forming slender beams of blur
in this darkened prison
As I kneel deeply my rough flesh,
on midnight hills,
cascades over
Pale and humps,
full scarlet,
test of blood,
of a rose flash thorn kissing.
Spectral moon hanging in the dusky air
poem by Luca Menin
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Dark Love
It is a night of darkness, a song of blood,
wolves vent their pain. The dark one
rises.
Evil shrouds her deathly form,
an eternal wrath.
Her raven hair cascades over
pale shoulders, and her
full blood red lips part slightly, to taste the
darkness streaming from the
pale flesh beneath
her.
Now a night of ecstasy,
I remember her.
poem by Halloween Nightmare
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103 ~ Dances With The Moon
'At night the moon became
a woman's face.
I met the Spirit of Music.'
-Jim Morrison from Wilderness
Come my love, 'tis a glorious evening!
The moon is full, there's a million gleamings.
Let's get ourselves to an open field and lie,
kiss and wander through the bright-black sky.
Come spirits fill our breath with rose reeds.
Leave us here to soak in splendor of moon beams.
In Night's tender arms let us be wrapped,
me and my love, because my love
materials me affection in earthly stuff.
step in...slide into some light shoes
hold on...rest your hand on my balloon
launching...lifting off for better views
soon we...we'll be dancing on the moon
my love...my one true love,
she sings o'er the dunes
velvet...a velvet blanket
she dances with the moon
dances with the moon
Oh! my love, I'll never love one
more than she, the Night.
She holds me forever
in her celestial-glow eyes,
but she hides so far away,
this untouchable She,
so don't worry, for I'll love you,
as long as moon beams soak me.
you sing...into the soft winds
hold on...keep in mind always this tune
launching...lifting off for never-ends
then we...we'll be dancing on the moon
my love...my one true love,
she sings o'er the dunes
velvet...a velvet blanket
she dances with the moon
dances with the moon
my love...my one true love,
she sings on sad tunes
she know's...know I'll never
fill her moon's shoes
when she...awakes her Spirit
she dances with the moon
dances with the moon
poem by Stan Pelfrey
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My Emily
It is a night of sorrow, a song of dark desire,
wolves vent their loneliness. The thirsting one
rises.
Curling, icy wisps of death shrouds her pale form,
an eternal wanting she is forever damned to pursue.
Her raven hair cascades over
translucent ivory shoulders, and her
full scarlet lips part slightly, to taste the
red tears streaming from the
pale flesh beneath her.
Now a night of new awareness,
I weep.
poem by Arthur Edwardson
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A rose made of blood
where the thorn cruelly cuts me
blossoms in my palm.
I, a rose...made of flesh...blood
rivalling thorn's red flower.
tanka by Dónall Dempsey
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Dust Moon
How long have I been running far far away from you
As many miles as I've gone
Still the darkness comes on
There will be a crimson moon tonight
Dust moon rises...your face haunts me so
Dust moon rises...sanity leaving me soon
I still see your blood on the face of the moon
Your face haunts me, nothing clear now
Dust moon has risen
Bloody, mocking moon
Daylight seems lifetimes away, eternal midnight
Keep running away
Dust moon has risen...haunting me so
Dust moon rises...sanity, leaving me so soon?
I still see your face on the blood of the moon
And when the dust moon rests his weary head
And the sunshine begins to rise
Will I still be here or will I be dead
Is the dawn of a new day just a lie?
Sculptures Locked In Ice
walk among all those corpsicle people of ice
as rainbow flame shades bright lens flash light
seen only as dim shadow passing if seen at all
people ice forms frozen block emotion water
ice sculptures shape cracking in fresh thaw
no fountain leap dances among ice splinters
rainbow colours walk among people of chill ice
all fabled pots of gold in legend spectral rainbow
dreams filling youths mind eye with perception
hearts of ice sculpture potenuality into stasis ice
technicolour rainbows spread rapture seen not
rainbow stretching spanning dreams curves beams
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Brimstone... ' (or A Cryptic-Cremation)
Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust
Flesh and Blood
Wood and Mud
Sun and Moon
Craters and Crust
Flames to Ashes
Smoke to Dust
Ape and Man
Heart and Brain
Glass and Sand
Abel and Cain
Spend this Space
On this Earth
Cutting Down
Another’s Worth
So Much Hate
On World and Planet
Trying to Paint
And Stain Pearls and Granite
‘Til, Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust
Stop Thinking, ’ Iron Them ’
Start Thinking, ‘ Wash Us ’
Fire On Mountain
Flows Volcanic Ash
Fire and Sand
Equals House of Glass
Dirt On Fire
Smother ‘Fore Long
And Fire and Rock
Equals Brimstone
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Glass-ceiling
It's shivering on the edge
Of a razor, or on the verge
Of a sky-kissing cliff,
Hanging to fall inevitably...
And the glass-ceiling overhead
May break anytime;
We live thus with all
The urges of flesh and blood.
An invisible thread between
Life and death is only a link
To allow us to survive;
A controlling power
Drives us to dance,
With the rhythm of Time.
The flickering lights of the
Burning hopes let us live;
Under the glass-ceiling
A complete, fragile negation-
Still a firm belief works
To fight a mock fight to
Win the dilemma of life,
To make us live vibrantly!
With the glass-ceiling
Overhead...
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Sonnet
Flesh, I have knocked at many a dusty door,
Gone down full many a midnight lane,
Probed in old walls and felt along the floor,
Pressed in blind hope the lighted window-pane,
But useless all, though sometimes when the moon
Was full in heaven and the sea was full,
Along my body's alleys came a tune
Played in the tavern by the Beautiful.
Then for an instant I have felt at point
To find and seize her, whosoe'er she be,
Whether some saint whose glory doth anoint
Those whom she loves, or but a part of me,
Or something that the things not understood
Make for their uses out of flesh and blood.
poem by John Masefield from Sonnets (1916)
Submitted by anonym
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Only One Horrible Thorn
I like to cry and throw a fit
Even the dark day I was born
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
I did not like people around
I would sit, curse at them and scorn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
My heart could never feel the love
Deep inside I felt sad and torn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
People still tried to get close to me
I would open my mouth and warn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
I will never show a smile
This is an oath that I have sworn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
But the day will come, I will die
Then haunt people after they mourn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
poem by Paul Celano
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Half By Half
Half the night for you
half the night for me
in between,
when we are going to light our lamps?
A clock is ticking away
time elopes with stars.
When the gametes meet
a spark will chuckle in dark.
Tonight I am going to open my wrists
throwing the lines in water.
Take care of the lineage
flesh eaters are moving.
A pink rose looks at me
like moon in a honeycomb.
It was bittersweet, hurting, kissing
the thorn in my thumb.
poem by Satish Verma
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The blackest gift
It is a night of sorrow, a song of death,
wolves vent their loneliness.
The thirsting one rises.
Night shrouds her pale form,
an impatient wrath.
Her raven hair cascades over
translucent ivory shoulders, and her
full crimson lips part slightly, to taste the
life streaming from the
pale flesh beneath her.
Now a night of ecstasy,
I rise.
poem by Michelle Hyde
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Why blame the thorn?
Why blame the thorn
the rose needed it..
when a bud
to protect from plucking hands
when blossomed
safe from suckling bands
the rose slept
while the thorn crept
wildly adept
upon the petalling fingers
when the rose aged
and sees no reason
for the thorn's missions
now the rose
ready to free
from the plant
and adorn the world
hates the thorn
that accompanies it.
poem by Lalitha Iyer
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Winter Sunset
Roses in the sky,
Roses in the sea
Bowers of scarlet sky-roses
Take my heart and me.
God was good to make,
This December weather,
All this sky a rose-garden,
Rose and fire together.
To the East are burning
Roses in a garden,
Roses in a rosy field,
Hesper for their warden.
Yonder to the West
Roses all afire,
Mirror now some rare splendid
Rose of their desire.
Pulsing deeper, deeper,
Waves of fire throb on,
Never were such red roses
At sunset or dawn.
Roses on the hills,
Roses in the hollow,
Roses on the wet hedges,
In the shining fallow.
West wind, blow and blow!
That has blown ajar
Gates of God's great rose-garden,
Where His Angels are,
Gathering up the rose-leaves
For a shower of roses
On the night the Lord Babe
His sweet eye uncloses.
All the sky is scarlet
Flaming on the azure.
O, there's fire in Heaven
My heart aches with pleasure.
Leagues of rose and scarlet,
Roses red as blood:
All the world's a rose-garden.
God is good, is good.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Beauty
I pricked my finger on a thorn
and saw my blood run red.
I winced but focused on the rose
beside the thorn instead.
For pain is nothing compared to beauty.
It's just a temporary phase.
But the rose beside the thorn that hurts
is worthy of all praise.
I pressed the rose inside my book
so that it would last.
I saw the thorn that pricked my finger
but the moment of that had passed.
For lasting pain recedes in time
but beauty stays with you.
Now as I reopen the book once more
It's only the beauty I view.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Thou Innocence Anointed And Jordan Bathed
Too sharp a thorn of midnight hours
Come and spill over the brinks of time
Too pale a shade in dark scented bowers
Come and spill over though edges are sharp
Of glass made voices in glass made towers
A broken step haunted in a broken harp
Like Cinderella’s shoes smashed on a stair
Like Cinderella’s rush punctual despair
Now sing and tear the tune into naught
Carriages afar horses hoofed in mud
Now play and reach the Moon to be sought
Dig a grave high up in deflowered buds
Thou innocence anointed and Jordan bathed
Come and spill over souls in glass engraved
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Moon Over Austin
Sweet man, sweet mystery
Unveil yourself to me
Sweet soul, lie so still
Flesh cup, gonna get my fill
Let me rise and fall
With the wings of your sheets
While the moon's full over austin
The city sleeps below
Only the moon bears witness
To my hotel angel
Through the window
Your body be a tender vine
That twists and turns just like mine
Your heart a slender thong
Filled with honey, built with song
'til dawn steals you from me
And takes me to the next town
But tonight the moon's full over austin
And babies lie below
And only the moon bears witness
To my hotel angel
Through the window
There's one thing that keeps me going
It's the slow and easy knowing
You're the kind of man
Who's kind of girl could maybe give her hand
So sweet man in your sweet misery
Lie upon my temporary sea
Love's dressing, i will adorn
To my side your absence be thorn
And i'll rock you gently to sleep
Tonigh is one promise we both can keep
While the moon's full over austin
And the thieves all steal below
And only the moon bears witness
To my hotel angel
Through the window
Hotel angel
Through the window
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Preying to my Goddess
Finding your body in this darkened room,
Covers bunched
Around you, your own private cocoon.
Fingers spayed, seeking
To feel your hair, your skin
Smoothly pressed against
Me now.
Let me prey to your flesh
In this darkened shrine, let me consecrate this passion,
My goddess.
This night, let me kneel over you,
You’re back to me
To feel your muscles tense and push back to me.
This night, let me kneel to your sanctuary,
To hear your moaned blessing
I will worship this passion for you.
poem by Akiva Roberts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hotel Angel
Sweet man, sweet mystery
Unveil yourself to me
Sweet soul, lie so still
Flesh cup, gonna get my fill
Let me rise and fall
With the wings of your sheets
While the moon's full over austin
The city sleeps below
Only the moon bears witness
To my hotel angel
Through the window
Your body be a tender vine
That twists and turns just like mine
Your heart a slender thong
Built of honey, filled with song
'til dawn steals you from me
And takes me to the next town
But tonight the moon's full over austin
And beggars starve below
And only the moon bears witness
To my hotel angel
Through the window
There's one thing that keeps me going
It's the slow and easy knowing
You're the kind of man
Who's kind of girl could maybe give her hand
So sweet man in your sweet misery
Lie upon my temporary sea
Love's dressing, i will adorn
To my side your absence be thorn
And i'll rock you gently to sleep
Tonigh is one promise we both can keep
While the moon's full over austin
And the city sleeps below
And only the moon bears witness
To my hotel angel
Through the window
Hotel angel
Through the window
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church Monuments
While that my soul repairs to her devotion,
Here I intomb my flesh, that it betimes
May take acquaintance of this heap of dust;
To which the blast of death's incessant motion,
Fed with the exhalation of our crimes,
Drives all at last. Therefore I gladly trust
My body to this school, that it may learn
To spell his elements, and find his birth
Written in dusty heraldry and lines;
Which dissolution sure doth best discern,
Comparing dust with dust, and earth with earth.
These laugh at jet and marble put for signs,
To sever the good fellowship of dust,
And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them,
When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat
To kiss those heaps, which now they have in trust?
Dear flesh, while I do pray, learn here thy stem
And true descent, that when thou shalt grow fat
And wanton in thy cravings, thou mayst know
That flesh is but the glass which holds the dust
That measures all our time; which also shall
Be crumbled into dust. Mark, here below
How tame these ashes are, how free from lust,
That thou mayst fit thyself against thy fall.
poem by George Herbert
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