Sleepless In Whereis
I'm stealing through a twilit realm, the ancient pale of Whereis,
Passing chambers of an heiress (with no need to feel embarrassed)
Through a magic mystic mirror hanging curtainless.
A glimpse down naked alleyways (denuded by the moon) ex-
poses ghosts in gauzy tunics carving symbols, round and runic,
In distended dingy dungeons of uncertainness.
In misty streets of cobblestone - ancestral avenues -
Patchwork paths consume my shoes (chasing foggy curlicues
Twisting, twirling by in twos, floating anywhere they choose) ,
Leaving smoky residues in the footprints that confuse
Of the threaded wooden sticks that stalk a puppet wandering.
Distilled in drops of fantasy and fading into view
(Twixt the treasures in review, awful Towers peering through
Distant dimness bent askew) , shifting shadows I pursue
(Wearing faces I once knew) , lost - no stars to guide me true -
Midst the visions of the painted past I can't help pondering.
Contorted candelabra claw the skyline's walled suspension,
Caught in twilight's intervention - still unlit (in stark dissension) ,
Therefore seething with a tension, in the quiet apprehension
Of the watchman's inattention to the night-time's bold pretension
To her power, not to mention, to her hyperspace extension
(Far beyond my comprehension of the sundown's black dimension) -
On exhausted beaten boulevards of foolish fretfulness.
Oblivion depletes me, voiding haste and hurried hassles,
Me, a simple abject vassal, trailing moonlit floating castles,
- Fickle feet, but fingers facile grasp at straws and dangling tassels -
As I stumble through the rubble of forgetfulness.
I think I must be dreaming as I seem to see these things,
Neath the sky alive with wings of a nightingale that sings,
Midst the whispered murmurings soughed by phantoms clad as kings,
Pacing palaces in rings, while their hapless footfall clings
To the sagging sinking sands of midnight's splattered castled ruins.
Entangled in the swirling leaves that spin in dizzy flurries,
(While the wind beside me scurries, and a hermit ermine hurries)
Lurk my sleepy woes and worries (glowing faint but growing blurry)
Which, when plundered by the demon dusk, I'd left behind me strewn.
The forgery of multitudes between the silhouettes,
(And discarded cigarettes, neath the haunted parapets)
Mock my lonely echoed steps - mock my lonely echoed steps
(Struck like clicking castanets- struck like clicking castanets)
As I lace unlabeled lanes, erasing silence' sullen treason.
The mossy stones befuddle me, in winding rue rosettes,
(Lost within the oubliettes, and in vials of anisette)
Midst the mazy minuets, and the purling pirouettes
Of the fugitive Grisettes (flaunting charms and amulets)
Who, in flitting shades of arching bridges, linger longer, teasin'.
Along the When I'm drifting, just a stardust castaway,
Weaving, threading by cafés and deserted cabarets,
Just a gauzy appliqué on the river's crippled spray,
Chasing Fools along the way through the strands of yesterday,
Neath the throbbing peal of sobbing bells of spectral cloisters quaking.
In belfries, high and haughty, alabaster knights perform,
Riding stiff against a storm, steeped in clouds of chloroform,
While the raven skies deform and my shrivelled shovelled form
(Watching bats in steeples swarm close to candles waxing warm)
Hides in hallowed hallways, hanging, shoulders weary, weak and shaking.
Above me hover grinning masks and visages of Queens
Spewing fatal final scenes (against a scarlet sky they lean,
Dreary dripping guillotines) of demented doomed Dauphines,
Traced in opalescent ballrooms only tattered time remembers.
The hidden hands of Harlequins (while floating free, unseen,
Behind abandoned shuttered screens, inside of shrouded Halloweens)
Tap (on tumbrel tambourines) a dirge (with tattooed tones pristine)
For me (a heap in ragged jeans within this crazy cluttered scheme) ,
Trapped interred in toppled stone chateaus that dismal dawn dismembers.
Rogue breezes pierce, benumbing me, I feel my fingers freezin'
(In the cockcrow's purple season) though within, no rhyme or reason,
Caught impaled upon the jagged edge of early morning's breaking.
The chill evoking silver chimes of Nodomain start knelling
As the searing sun looms swelling, and their melodies hang dwelling
In the cloud drifts' care, revelling, but the Sandman's too compelling
And my weariness impelling - though my eyelids risk rebelling,
Where I'll fall, there's no foretelling for the starry sky's past telling,
As I fade beneath the flaming forge while embers tremble, waking.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Captive Bird - 12 Bars 12 Dreams
12 BARS
Twelve rusty bars, one frozen lock -
Confined, sublime, an ancient Roc,
Enclosed inside a barren cage -
Her catacomb in sundown sage.
Of former days there is no trace
Except displays of fallen grace -
Twelve dreams, abiding in her place,
Are free and dwell in yawning space:
12 DREAMS
Of wings unfurled, and seething eyes
That dredge the depths of dawning skies
Unclamping clouds that hang below,
Once ice, dissolved in morning's glow;
Of clutching winds that carry free
Beyond a leaden anguished sea
Dispersing dust of stifled stars
Midst chunks of chain in slave bazaars;
Of swooping to a silent shore,
To perch beyond the ocean's roar
Amazed to feel the sobbing breeze
Message the leaves of rooted trees;
Of stalking trails of twilight tramps,
Within the fog of lighthouse lamps
That blink forlorn through caldron nights,
In search of shades of errant Kites;
Of darkling vast deserted lands,
The windswept stones, the shadowed sands,
Where ghosts of Moorish maidens lost
Conceal their groans in mourning frost;
Of blotting out the bloated moon
While feathers beat a banshee tune
And glimmers dance and prance aglow
Upon a pearly pale plateau;
Of tasting cool torrential rains,
Beyond the realm of binding chains,
And sipping freedom they exude
In quite drops of solitude;
Of whisking off a galley crew
Aboard a ship in midnight dew,
Beneath the pierce of seagull's screams
That mock the strands of scarlet streams;
Of sating once an aching craw
With tearing beak, with ripping claw
And echoed by an eldritch screech
While feasting on abandoned beach;
Of restive thoughts and weary wings
That drift on haze and smoky rings
Obscured within the opal shroud
Of her resemblance in the crowd;
Of croaking caws in broken rhyme
Of winter woe, of summer clime,
Of building nests of sundown sage
Beyond outside a barren cage.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wind Is Isolde
The warden's bewildered, the watchman's amazed
For the gate's standing open, a hole in the haze.
The steps are uncertain, the nighttime is crazed
And the stars burn above us like pinwheels ablaze.
But lanterns hang vacant in streets standing blind.
Though the path is a riddle, there's no need to guess... I'll not leave you behind
The lepers are leaping from tombstones of steel
Chasing rollaway caskets with luminous wheels;
The shadows are frozen, their echoes confined,
Twisted time melts at midnight - Take hold of my hand... I'll not leave you behind
The ponies of plunder are riding on high
As their castaway riders cast stones from the sky.
They're mocking the magpies, who pay it no mind,
But the broncos are bolting - Just cling to my cape... I'll not leave you behind
The bandits are hiding, the leprechaun's lurk
While imbibing dark brews of a hag's handiwork.
They're gulping from goblets that goblins designed
With a gust of the wind - Woman! Throw your wings wide... I'll not leave you behind
The orphans and widows are bent in the breeze
While a horrified hangman nods, passing decrees.
For engines of mercy have come to a grind
And they're judging the juries - Just fade neath the night... I'll not leave you behind
The tattered toy teddies and raggedy Anns
Have escaped to the highways of kid caravans.
They're chasing their shadows, know not what they'll find
In parades fast departing - So drift with your dreams... I'll not leave you behind
The circles are swirling, they flash from the crown
From the rainbows of summer, the circus in town.
The compass wheel's spinning, the minutes unwind
And the road is a cyclone - So grab what you need... I'll not leave you behind
The gremlins are groping, they know that they must
For the sprites and the pixies no longer have trust.
They're slinging their arrows at shades undefined
But the wind is unsettled - So flee from your fears... I'll not leave you behind
The cannons are calling, the piccolos shriek
And the druids are drumming while pale pagans speak.
They're urging me forward, my senses they've mined,
And their march is erupting - Just follow my heels... I'll not leave you behind
In vampire steeples, cathedral clocks tick
Like the droplets of wax neath a pale candle's wick.
Within the night's terrors its flame is enshrined
But the glim is fast fading - So scatter your cares... I'll not leave you behind
The looking glass glistens, the firefly glows
And the fairies are dancing on tiny tip toes.
The midnight's collapsing, which serves to remind
That your ghosts will not follow - So bid your farewells... I'll not leave you behind
The wind is a woman, she burns like a brand
And conceals crazy secrets caught carved in the sand.
She whispers her mysteries but leaves them unsigned
For the wind is Isolde - I'm raising my sails... I'll not leave you behind
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Way Ships
Flings and wings and rings rejected
Cupid's arrows fly deflected
'It clearly is too late' she signed, 'to love, adore or pay me mind'
Penciled lines drew cruel conclusions
mocking mirror's cracked illusions
Sometimes, in time, I hang awhile, reflected in her parting smile
Drifting wan, below unheeding
worried, wounded suns a' bleeding
Struck dumb by night, no way to say 'Let's sound the stars another way'
Shaking sands frame distant smokestacks
shanty towns, forsaken oak shacks
Pursuing dusk, collapsed and dyed, the docile dolphin deftly stride
beyond behind the ebbing tide, towards One-Way Ships of sunken pride
Gypsy dreamer in denial
Sleep and slumber standing trial
I never really ever slept inside the cryptic walls she kept
Martian moons provoke the ocean
Strange enchantments stir the potion
The mutant molten purple skies ignite subconscious fireflies
Voiceless echoes feigning laughter
Crushing quiet screaming after
Vague vagaries pretend to sleep, my conscience crumbles in a heap
Startled stars at dawn are slacking
Still her tempest sail is tacking
In fractured dreams sere silhouettes blow foghorns, trumpets, clarinets
Discarded glowing cigarettes tinge One-Way Ships with pale regrets
Cold cathedral clocks upended
Frozen second hands suspended
Beneath the gauze of time I try to while away somewhere nearby
Ticking, tocking time's a' tolling
Cruel eternity's cajoling
The future, tattered, calls bereft, with nothing but her shadows left
Brigantines skim gated grottos
Chasing clowns and desperados
While jugglers juggle circus bricks, I'm trapped by time's uncanny tricks
Candied candles flicker faintly
Braided tresses quiver quaintly
Demystified, untamed in time, her face is traced in puppet mime
Amorphous tongues of jangled rhyme hail One-Way Ships that glide sublime
Zigzag lightnings flash unkindly
Stoned, alone, I huddle blindly
and drain another dram and say 'she's far too far too far away'
Twisted waterwheels a' thirsting
Flaming flower buds a' bursting
Adrift, I stagger far below their unchained magic rainbow glow
White crowned wave crests break unbounded
Shackled sea shore's sands lie pounded
Unleashed, beyond the bridled world, her silver sails, cut loose, unfurled
Captive bluebirds nest in baskets
Morning glories cover caskets
Wee ballerinas swirl and spin while giant jokers smirk and grin
and, wasted, I withdraw within carved One-Way Ships in flasks of gin
Hungary hounds harangue the highlands
howl at skies and desert islands
Below, unfettered carbon crows conceal the parting path she chose
Lighthouse lamps and lanterns lolling
Mute abandoned fleets are calling
The shallow shadowed portholes vaunt dim traces of the past that haunt
Curved magnetic curtained faces
swap contorted brief embraces
Her fairy-tale like tattoo touch was serpentine but soft as such
Coffee cups and spoons corroding
Mystic tea leaves, visions boding
A cabaret calls, standing bare, beneath a splintered footloose stair,
vain vapors drape her vacant chair in One-Way Ships beyond repair
Splattered days are dripping dreary
Shattered nights are wearing weary
Without her footfall at my side I steal away within to hide
Fancies flame, persist to flaunt her
Wanton whispers hiss I want her
Hyenas, haggard, held at bay, still gnaw on bones of yesterday
Graveled graveyards grey and ghastly
Apparitions pacing past me
The answers to my whys and sighs have veiled her limpid pale blue eyes
Lurid figments storm the valleys
snatch the helms of spectral galleys
The coughing phantoms at the wheel, they make it all seem so unreal
Rebounding cracks of thunder peal, shake One-Way Ships while seagull's squeal
Yesterdays unsung, unspoken,
bygone paths fold draped and broken
The weary winds of winter cling to voiceless nightingales and sting
Desert blossoms growing colder
Drifting sand dunes pause, enfold her
A frozen kiss and blush revealed forbidden pipe dreams flung afield
Weeping willow's melting snow drops
drip on tips of tiny toe tops
Their opal fires bleed and fade while suns explode in icy jade
Jagged hours hangin' heavy
Footsteps pace the barren levee
While pros and cons and kings debate, acclaim and blame and fame equate
the ruin's remnants left to fate with One-Way Ships that fail to wait
Blazing blades of love surrender
Memories and thoughts transcend her
The Persian gazer's crystal shows I've truly lost my ruby rose
Buried deep in evening's embers
dust forgets what flesh remembers
The bitter taste of farewell's haste has laid the virgin skies to waste
Ruffled ravaged ravens ranting
Churlish ancient churchmen chanting
resounding what she told me true 'There's nothing more that you can do'
Trial adjourned by judge and jury
Freed, she flees, absolved of worry
Remaining runes and relics burn to feed the ashes of the urn
Six seers, wiser, soon discern the One-Way Ships of no return
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Isolde - If Only You'd Be Mine
You give to me the morning sun that dances in your smile
A flower wild among the stones upon a rocky isle
A lonely wood with hidden paths where we can walk awhile
You lead me by the hand through nights into the waking days
Through swinging gates in mirrored walls and through the midnight haze
Through castles built in sandbox realms in children's yesterdays
You give to me a ragged doll, a puppet on a string
A ride upon a rocking horse, a swallow on the wing
A ribbon trailing from your hair, a red or scarlet thing
You whisk me from a valley deep wherein a black wind blows
And tracks upon the empty sands are hidden by the snows,
And share with me your secret thoughts and steal away my woes
You give to me a silver flute, a whistle on a chain
A drummer boy with dancing feet, a sugar candy cane
A window flushed with foolish tears and pitter-patter rain
You lead me from the crazy streets, beyond the circus towns,
Beyond the smoky memories, beyond the weeping clowns,
Beyond a frozen melody and sorrows that it drowns
You give to me a penny plain to cast upon a dream,
A falling star upon the sky, a bridge across a stream,
A teddy bear with tattered ears and berries dipped in cream
You show me where a rainbow lights upon a liquid land
Where dew drops paint the purple leaves deserted on the sands
On roads of simple wonderment within your tender hands
You give to me in winter's chill your ragged scarf of thread,
A blazing ball of candle wax, a fire dripping red,
And share with me (a rhyming clown) your yearning arms... and bed
You spin me tales of laughter, yes, of laughter on a spree
Of laughter restless in the sky, of laughter running free
Of laughter dancing skipping wildly far beyond the sea
I give to you these careless words, arrayed in broken lines,
Adorned, my love, with tempest winds and teardropp salty brine,
In cups of youthful passion steeped in desolation wine,
And promise I'm forever yours...
if only you'd be mine.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent City
Deserted streets lie draped in dusk and yarns of yesterday,
with silent sounds no longer heard (though having much to say)
since teeming life, abundant once, surceased and slipped away.
Against a sudden sullen burst (unleashing lashing waves
that washed the Silent City clean with radiance that laves) ,
neath soothing suds so soft and mild, the stony structure braves.
Within the walls, whist buildings, tall... outside the City, dunes...
they mime a soon forgotten tale, once written, carved in runes
on broken skies, like halos hung, reflections of the moon's.
Though churches, mosques and synagogues abide without a bruise
the City's now a sepulcher for Christians, Muslims, Jews -
Cathedrals, Temples, vacant now, enshrine their residues.
A church's Gothic ceilings guard the empty pews below,
and blowing there above the bones, a maiden's blue jabot.
The Saints, in crypts and catacombs grace halos still aglow.
Steel chapel chimes! The clapper rope (that tongue-tied confidante)
won't writhe to ring the carillons, alone and lean and gaunt -
stray flocks of jute, like downy dregs, adorn the holy font.
With footsteps in the church no more (apostates that profane) ,
the echoes in the nave have gone, though chalice cups remain -
instead of wine, stale liquid drops decaying back to rain.
No face appears with jagged tongue to sing a silent psalm
or paint pale lips with languid laughs to pierce the deathly calm -
or pray for mercy, grace, reprieve, or beg lethean balm.
Coiled candle sticks! Their iron claws no longer loom the cracks
with dying flame in smoky swirl mid clotting pearls of wax,
since night lit up, and innocence dissolved in deadend tracks.
Thin shadows shift, like silver shafts, across the cruel moraine
reflecting once a wisp of light in drops of ebon bane
which casts a crooked smile across a faceless window pane.
Above! The cage of vapid night reveals a velvet streak,
through which the wicked winter winds will sometimes weave and sneak.
Afar! Some distant cables sway, a bridge clings hushed and bleak.
The parapets, unoccupied, with neither voice nor crier,
no cantillation, belfry bells; no Minarets inspire -
abodes and buildings silhouette a mirthless muted choir.
Wan neon lights glow overcast with darkness meant to slate
and lanterns hanging high above, in silent swinging gait,
haunt ballrooms, bars, abandoned now, with no one left to fete.
The skyline, pale, shows no remorse, neath twilight's silver shrouds
oblivious she always was to cries in dying crowds -
in foggy neap their spirits seep, a clutch of clammy clouds.
The steeple towers, stone and steel, drab daggers in the sky!
Their hallowed halls ring empty now, though breezes wander by -
but, daring not to wake the dead, they've ceased to sough or sigh.
No things appear with jagged tongues to sing a silent psalm
or paint pale lips with languid laughs to pierce the deathly calm -
there's only hollow emptiness that shifting shades embalm.
The sun-bleached bones of those who smiled are scattered down the lanes
while other souls who crept in fear left bones with yellow stains.
But plaintive tears were never shed, for no one felt the pains.
The castle clocks unwound and stopped! Their peerless speechless spokes
unfurl in black the reigning Night, by spinning off her cloaks
and flaunting stark oblivion, her Baroness evokes.
Green trees went dark, in palace parks, where children paused to play -
now no one minds the voiceless swings or statues made of clay,
though graveyards mute the marbled tombs, where grievers knelt to pray.
The terrors of a conscience fraught, no longer stalk nearby
or rend or rip the curtained clouds, frail fabrics of the sky -
the wraiths of night and sleepless dreams no longer terrify.
And fog no longer creeps beyond the edge of doom's café,
or if she does, in mourning veils, she frills the cabaret
with sallow shades of dripping tears and sheets of shallow gray.
Beyond the suburbs, farmers' fields (where donkeys often brayed)
are lying fallow, barren dust, where living seed once laid
and in the void a scarecrow sways, impaled upon a spade.
A silo, still! With hollow hull, a ravished feather's vane -
with traces of some spattered blood, once flowing through a vein -
with fruits of all the labour, lost... 'twas truly all in vain.
No souls appear with jagged tongues to sing a silent psalm
or paint pale lips with languid laughs to pierce the deathly calm -
they vanished quite a while ago, beneath a neutron bomb.
EPILOGUE
Beyond the Silent City's walls, the victors laugh and play...
They're celebrating PEACE ON EARTH, the devil's sobriquet
for neutron radiation death in places far away.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost Love Deliria
AWAKENING
Sleep and slumber, dreams of wonder... weaving,
morning's vacuum broke the spell
Pitted pillow, note of parting... leaving,
'from your friend, a fond farewell'
Sunrise throbbing, twilight aching... grieving,
daydreams, flashbacks, nightmares knell
Pale phantasms, visions sneaking... thieving,
plot to fill the empty shell
12 DELIRIA
1st Delirium: Collapses
Fractured sky bolts, billows bursting... rumbling,
heavens tighten, turn the vise
Horsemen saddle shafts of lightning... tumbling,
jagged highways must suffice
Ruptured skyways, hailstones crackling... crumbling,
naked pearls of paradise
Toxic tongues of laughter stinging... stumbling,
ocean buckets choked with ice
Droplets drumming, thunder muzzled... mumbling,
washed out whispers pay the price
Smothered blazes, cinders smoking... humbling,
ashes shaped in sacrifice
2nd Delirium: Descents
Asphalt alleys, ashen faces... frowning,
blowing bubbles, chewing gum
Drinking ale from tavern tankards... downing,
moonlit beads of painted rum
Stony stars and sea misshapen... drowning,
humble rivers' rhythms hum
Apparitions aspirating... clowning,
diamonds dying, minstrels strum
Incandescent candles conquered... crowning,
vacant vapours, cold and numb
3rd Delirium: Fates
Tempest turmoil, tapered turrets... holding,
dungeons, dragons, chains and racks
Wheels of fortune, Tarot temptress... molding,
Hangmen, Towers, One Eyed Jacks
Sand dune castles, cryptic candles... folding,
warping walls of liquid wax
Idols colder, combed and coddled... scolding,
hide in fissures, peek through cracks
4th Delirium: Lost Souls
Sunken cities, pilgrims peering... gawking,
squinting eyeballs, blazing sun
Janus facing, shepherds chasing... stalking,
friends embrace before they shun
Tearooms steaming, tumult teeming... talking,
lovers listen, poets pun
Broken stones unanchored, quaking... rocking,
slipping, falling, one by one
Beaten pathways, footsteps marking... mocking,
wedged in webs which spiders spun
Circus shelters, big tops tumbling... locking,
people pacing, soon they're none
Numbered exits, zeros numbing... knocking,
midnight daylight's days undone
Moon blood shackles, shivers shaming... shocking,
starlight striders streaking, stun
Hushed but harried hermits waiting... walking,
restless rainbows on the run
Pixies, elves, and echoes bouncing... balking,
fading fast when dawn's begun
Bantum butterflies are flitting... flocking
sometimes conquered, overrun
Hocus pokus, seers focus... squawking,
voodoo wavered, witchcraft won
5th Delirium: Introspection
Sundown furnace, fires fading... coughing,
dusky dew drops drain the air
Empty chalice, sipped in silence... quaffing,
thirsting shadows unaware
Looking glass and lattice scorning... scoffing,
local loser gapes and stares
Faces covered, dancing naked... doffing,
peering inside, hope despairs
6th Delirium: The Void
Tales of taboos, mystic mythos... missing,
windows shuttered, bolted door
Kindled candles, tongues and anvils... hissing,
heavy hammers, echoes roar
Dark deceivers, raven charmers... kissing,
draging demons from the shore
Hopeless hollows filled with doubters... dissing
standing empty - nevermore
7th Delirium: Searching
Martyred monks haunt runic ruins... waiting,
banging broken bells below
Vaulted hallways, voided voices... grating,
churning Chinese chimes aglow
Granite graveyards, spectres spooking... skating,
blackened bushes, roses grow
Midget dwarfs seek mutant migrants... mating,
packing parcels, ice and snow
8th Delirium: Nighttime
Throbbing drumheads, fingers blazing... steaming,
coins of copper, beggars plea
Rusty residues of resin... streaming,
opal amber filigree
Orphan shades in shallow shadows... teeming,
steeping twigs in twilight tea
Cloister doorsteps, Prophets gaming... scheming,
tracing tracks of destiny
Blacksmiths blanching, horseshoes glowing... gleaming,
partially sheathed in black debris
Phantoms feigning, nightmares scathing... screaming,
dusty dreamers drifting free
9th Delerium: Emptyness
Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies bridled... yearning,
forest fairies under thumb
Sounds inside of cauldrons coughing... churning,
blaring bugles, tattooed drum
10th Delirium: Alienation
Rain unravelling, wistfully weeping... falling,
treacle trickling, fickle sky
Mushrooms sprinkled, visions sprouting... sprawling,
seagulls drowning, dolphins die
Rabble gasping, spirits broken... crawling,
lonely lonesome swallows cry
Babbling brooks and breakers ebbing... bawling
puppies paddle, puppets sigh
People passing ripple past me... calling,
rainbow colours, collars high
Chaos seething, lepers looting... stalling,
stealing stallions on the sly
Pencils pausing, scholars scrambling... scrawling,
scratching scribbles, asking why
11th Delirium: Jetsam
Silver sails sway pallid pirates... prowling,
Jolly Rogers, wind and sound
Parrots perching, tattered feathers... fouling,
tethered talons, tied and bound
Shipwrecked foghorns, trumpets stranded... howling,
spiral springs of time unwound
Magic moonlight, shimmers shaking... scowling,
burnt out matchsticks washed aground
Prairie wolfs, coyotes calling... yowling,
witching hours, midnight hounds
Tightrope walkers, grizzlies grunting... growling,
seeking islands, lost and found
12th Delirium: Relief
Slumber shattered, vapours captive... haunting,
chained in mirrors, breaking free
Scarlet skylines, daylight dawning... daunting,
rivers rushing to the sea
Silence softens, sandmen whisper... wanting,
piercing rafters, turning keys
Shadows shudder, notions fluster... flaunting,
moonbeam bullets meant for me
Mind in migraine, meadows trembling... taunting,
sparrows speak in harmony
REAWAKENING
Pitter patter, teardrops paling... pearling,
salting scarves in secret drawers
Mist amongst us, smoke rings rising... curling,
climbing from the ocean floors
See-saw circles, senses swerving... swirling,
swept away with silver oars
Courtyard jesters, sceptres twisting... twirling,
push the past to foreign shores
Passing pangs of passions heaving... hurling,
burning bridges, closing doors
Roses wither, icons waning... whirling,
time decays and time restores
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alone Again
Cold rains drizzle dreary... sweeping off the sky,
Spectres pass 'long side me... collars turned up high,
My visions are invisible and no one hears me cry.
Minstrels of destruction... rapping at my door,
Naked anvils aching... heavy hammers roar,
Their monodies of emptiness throb bleeding on my floor.
House of cards collapsing... sagging walls of wax,
Deuces in dissention... Kings with broken backs;
The Joker's lost and stumbles by, alone, along the tracks
Steeples stand dismantled... muted bells below,
Ruins quake and tremble... freezing in the snow,
The pains implode within my brain, the pale winds cruelly blow.
Prophets fill the temples... residues of tea
Highways of no entrance... tracks of destiny,
The phantoms in my nightmare dreams tell tales of running free.
Foghorns calling lonely... no one hears the sound,
Silver schooners scuttled... swirling round and round,
The bridges broke at midnight's stroke, and driftwood washed aground.
Stony seas misshapen... moonbeams painted rum,
Fingers sift the ashes... hands so cold and numb,
Incandescent candlesticks impale the sinking sun.
Smothered fires smoking... oceans filled with ice,
Hailstones slash at windows... blades from paradise,
Like tongues of hollow laughter licking wounds of sacrifice.
Flowing fields of flowers... silent harmony
Rolling river reveries... somewhere by the sea
My love, she was my daylight bliss, she once belonged to me.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reflections On A Recurring Dream
Floating downstream ...
... or upstream?
Light flashing through gapes in the over-hanging tree branches
... or from Pulsars whirling in some distant galaxy?
Colors blazing
Nature displaying the abundance of its’ pallet
... or mind’s eye imagining colors never seen?
Textures untouched yet felt
Sounds unheard yet sensed
Faces
With features morphing
Strangers... for the moment
Morphing
Faces
Known and loved
Friend and enemy
Faces from the past
... or from the future?
Shadows
Silhouettes
Marionette-like movements
Movement
I move
Things move past me
Floating downstream or upstream?
Running
In slow motion
My feet are stones
I claw at objects trying to propel myself through molasses atmosphere
Flying!
I work so hard to fly
Someone sees me up here above the trees and points
I flap harder intuitively aware that I must not be caught doing the impossible
Floating
Brushing rustling leaves
Gliding barely above trees
... Just High enough to feel safe.
poem by Mary Havran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mr Tambourine Man
Hey mr. tambourine man play a song for me
Im not sleepy and there is no place Im going to
Hey mr. tambourine man play a song for me
In a jingle-jangle morning Ill come following you
Though I know that evenings empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me Im branded on my feet
I have no one to meet and the ancient empty streets too dead for dreaming
Chorus
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin ship
My senses have been stripped my hands cant feel to grip
My toes too numb to step wait only for my boot heels to be wanderin
Im ready to go anywhere Im ready for to fade
Into my own parade cast your dancing spell my way I promise to go under it
Chorus
Though you might hear laughin spinnin swingin madly across the sun
Its not aimed at anyone its just escapin on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facing
And if you hear vague traces of skippin reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time its just a ragged clown behind
I wouldnt pay it any mind its just a shadow youre seein that hes chasing
Chorus
Then take me disappearin through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow
Chorus
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As I my steps
As I my steps
Along the grated streets
Of sweet Valletta I retraced
I passed from street to street
And I me thought that I could find
The dwelling where you lived.
For me those streets familiar quite
Became as dearer and dearer
As I from city street to street
My steps retraced their bearer
Aye! Aye! The streets became as dearer
And beautiful more than I had seen
For years and years before:
The pregnant windows frowning black
Unmoving ghosts in city pent
I wandered quite what did they hide
Behind their closed doors:
The small quaint front doors in the street
A few light inches the cobble stones above
With memories faint and dim
And with fast-fretting hither and thither
The hazy residents of those small abodes
Hid from my anxious questioning sight.
And as I passed along the street
A chimney high I saw smiling with glee
As it played child-like with white passing clouds
Above the warm sun shone on the old stones
That dreamt and dreamt and dreamt of years untold.
Aye! Aye! The city old
Above the harbor glideth
In my warm dreams:
The sailing clouds
Above the trees
In the small garden passing:
The green leaves
In their high towers
With each to each
In their wild love-making
To each and each are rustling:
The citizens in city streets
With hurried steps are passing.
And whither do they pass
And thither do they go?
The silent steps
In the small sullen street
I start descending
As if some thief to catch
That in some city nook
From me is hiding:
A lazy cat
Watches with half-open’d eye:
Little beyond
The stench of its urine
Drown’d by the sweet sense
Of roses pent in mortar cask
And hanging from the city wall.
Yes! Time is passing
In this sweet silent city of my dreams:
Let me allow it pass
Into the ocean sea-blue
That in midst of it
Like as in lover’s arms
My senses and myself will sink.
And I will not speak
And I will not sing
If not my lyre speaks
If not my lyre sings.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghosts Of The Full Moon
Every moonbeam radiates joy
Sycamore trees in shadows of the sea
Savannah grass in green waves
Mystic winds blow the ancient souls
Let the fingers of night caress
Let the feelings sigh like a shaman
See the buffalo graze under the stars
Naked stars that pry memories
Stars of the future birth
Angel night where awe sails on time
We are temples
We are spiritual
We are part of the ghost world
Pearls of emerald waves
Seagulls fly like sailors souls
Onyx moon of silver ancestry
Valley of Kidron and golden tombs
Dreams walk the hallowed corridors
Touch the sacred wells deep in the sky
Irish fields green with souls
Ghosts of the Great Barrier Reef
Eyes like wandering lions
Buried inside the Great Wall of China
Castles along the Seines
Ships rise in the galaxies
Have you felt the shivers of the moors?
The ancient ones of the full moon
Villages appear in hallways of sleep
Words from the winds of love
Flaming swords with two edges
Gates where living waters flow
Caravans of stars
Desert visions
Black Sea silk
Her ecstasy is in a room of mirrors
Michael Angelo’s bust emanates
Rembrandt in the silent museum
Raphael grounded in sanity
Yellow lamp of ancient quills
Whale oil sires the ancient graves
Icy waves of the mariners vault
Stairways in a New Orleans house
Night as quiet as fear
Have your felt the river of night?
Have you seen green eyes stare?
Lovers feel a stranger in their bed
Do you believe in vampires? I do
Van Gogh was haunted
Soon you will hover
Soon we will be the night
Islands of Jules Verne
Opium dens of Calcutta
Tibetan monks chant
Impudent vengeance never sleeps
Sword of Spartacus revels in anger
Magnolia slaves of the plantations lair
Red eyes, keep a night light on
Avenues of Hades belladonna
Byron dressed in black velvet
Jim Morrison at a séance
Edgar Allen Poe knew the night
Indigo trees in the wind
Mango ghosts
The Nile where cobra’s laugh
Brazilian rosewood dreams
Spanish ghosts of Mediterranean blood
Tireless Volga a sage of time
Ethereal eyes like a slaughter
Tribes are wandering the silt fields
Mountains ghosts
Celtic rivers of the vivid mind
Can you feel their candles?
The wings of night flutter
Shadows merge breathing constellations
The wind blows the curtain lace
They gather in costumes under moonlight
Ghosts of the full moon
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green Spanish Eyes
Ah Consuela! Surveying vast vistas for visions of green Spanish eyes,
I discern them again where she left me back then, when we kissed as she parted, my friend.
So I'm daring to tread towards the klieg lights ahead, where I'll wait and I'll watch her ascend.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she teases the mirror with green Spanish eyes;
Her serape entangles her ebony bangles like lace on the sorcerer's looms,
And her capes of the night, she drapes tight to excite, and her fan is embellished with plumes.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching as spectators savour her green Spanish eyes;
Taming wild concertinas, the dark ballerina performs on the concert hall stage,
But she shies from the sound of ovation unbound like a timorous bird in a cage.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she quickens the pit with her green Spanish eyes,
As the cymbals shake, clashing, the floodlights wake, flashing, igniting the wild fireflies,
And the piccolo piper's inviting the vipers to coil in the cold caldron skies.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching the shimmering shadows in green Spanish eyes
As I rise from my chair and converge to the stair with a hesitant sip of my wine.
Though she doesn't deny me, she wanders right by me with neither a look nor a sign.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she waves to the stage with her green Spanish eyes,
(For her senses scoff, scorning the biblical warning of kisses of Judas that sting,
With her pierced ears defeating the echoes repeating) and smiles at the bluebird that sings.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching faint embers a' stir in her green Spanish eyes,
For a soft spoken stranger enveloping danger has captured the rhyme in the room
As he slips into sight through the scent of the night and the breath of her heavy perfume.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she gauges his guise through her green Spanish eyes
- From his gypsy-like mane, to his diamond stud cane, to the raven engraved on his vest -
For a faraway form, a tempestuous storm, lurks and heaves neath the cleav'e of her breasts.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching the caravels cruise in her green Spanish eyes;
With the castanets clacking upon the deck cracking, he whips 'round his cloak with a whiz
And without sacrificing, at mien so enticing, she floats with her face facing his.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, the vertigo veiling her green Spanish eyes,
While the drumbeat pounds, droning, the rhythm sounds, moaning, of jungles Jamaican entwined
In the valleys concealing the vineyards revealing the vaults in the caves of her mind.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, while carnivals call to her green Spanish eyes,
And with paused palpitations the tom-tom temptations come taunting her tremulous feet
With her toe tips a' tingle while jute boxes jingle for jesters that jive on the street.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she rides with the tides in her green Spanish eyes,
And her silhouette's travelling on ripples unravelling and shaking the shivering shores,
As she strides from the light to the taste of the night through the candlelit cabaret doors.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she dances till dawn with her green Spanish eyes,
With her movements adorning a trickle of morning as sipped by the mouth of the moon,
While her tresses twirl, shaming the filaments flaming that flow from the sun's oval spoon.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she masks for a moment her green Spanish eyes.
Then the bluebird that sings, she stops preening her wings and descends as a lean bird of prey -
As she flutters her 'lashes and laughs in broad splashes, his narrowing eyes start to stray.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching the carousels spin in her green Spanish eyes,
And the porcelain ponies and leprechaun cronies race, reaching for gold and such things,
Even being reminded that only the blinded are fooled by the brass in the rings.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she shepherds the shadows with green Spanish eyes,
But as evening sinks, ebbing, the skyline climbs, webbing, and weaves through the temples of stone,
While the nightingales sing of a kiss on the wing in the depths of the dunes all alone.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching the music and magic in green Spanish eyes,
And she dances enchanted, while firmly implanted in tugs of his turbulent arms,
Till he cuts through the strings, tames the bluebird that sings, and seduces one more with his charms.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, the citadel steams in her green Spanish eyes,
And behind the dark curtain the savants seem certain that nothing and no one exist,
But though vapours look vacant, the vagabond vagrants remain in a mythical mist.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching as lightning at midnight in green Spanish eyes
Kindles cracks within crystals like flashes from pistols residing inside of the gloom,
And it hovers above us betraying a dove as she basks in the blackness of doom.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, distilling despair in her green Spanish eyes,
And the bitterness stings like the snap of the strings when a mandolin's starting to sigh
As the vampire shades suck the life from charades neath the resinous residue sky.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she steps to the ledge with her green Spanish eyes,
For the terrace hangs high and she's thinking to fly and abandon fate's merry-go-round.
From the edge I perceive her and rush to retrieve her - she stumbles, falls far to the ground.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching the sparkles a' spilling from green Spanish eyes.
As I peer from the railing, with evening exhaling, I cry out a lover's lament -
There she lies midst the crowd with her spirit unbowed, but her body's all broken and bent.
Ah Consuela! I'm watching, she beckons me hither with green Spanish eyes,
And I'm slightly amazed being snared in her gaze and a' swirl in a hurricane way,
But the seconds are slipping, my courage is dripping, the moment is bleeding away.
Ah Consuela! I'm touching, she weeps in the tears of her green Spanish eyes;
As the breezes cease blowing, her essence leaves, flowing, in streams neath the ambient light,
And the droplets drip swarming, so silent, yet warming, like rain in a midsummer night.
Ah Consuela! I'm holding, and hushed by the hints in her green Spanish eyes,
While her whispers are breathing the breaths of the seething electrical skeletal winds,
And the words paint the poems that rivers a' slowin' reveal where the waterfall ends.
Ah Consuela! I'm fading in fires that flicker in green Spanish eyes,
As she plays back the past, she abandons and casts away matters that no longer mend...
And she reached out instead, as she lifted her head, and we kissed as she parted, my friend.
Ah Consuela! I'm tangled, entombed, trapped in tales of your green Spanish eyes,
In forsaken cantinas beyond the arenas where night time illusions once flowed,
For the ash neath my shoulder still throbs as it smoulders some place near the end of the road.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burning Bridges
Just a filigree of love's desire
Entangled red-gold threads of fire
Dreams burning ‘neath the midnight sun
My moonlit diamonds come unstrung
You're fire by night, and ice by day
Got too many dragons left to slay
Secrets whispered to the wind
Unheard, but by wayward kin
My passion, hanging on the line
Lust infused and steeped in wine
I keep singing for my daily bread
Still hungry for the words unsaid
Mysterious treasures flutter by
Dream ghosts haunt the darkened sky
Memories toss on blackened seas
Twisted in love's filigree
In beautiful madness, my heartache screams
I keep searching for my broken wings
To carry home forgotten glee
A fire that once dwelt inside of me
There's so much lost, such wasted time
Ten thousand lines of useless rhyme
I'm bleeding out, my wounds are deep
My passion's lost in twilight sleep
A decade trying to understand
The demons trapped inside the man
I guess it's just not meant to be
My heart has yet agreed to see
The burning bridge of my desire
The flames are raging higher, higher
I just don't' know how to put it out
The flames are fueled by growing doubt
My eyes are stinging, from the smoke
So hard to see…the cruel joke
You had me fooled, I was taken in
The laughs on me, this time you win
poem by Leria Hawkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mighty Eye in a Brief Eclipse of Time
Umpteen billion years
Big Bang, supernova, gas
Brief eclipse of time
Gases swirling, fall
Sun and planets, water, life
Brief eclipse of time
Another billion
goo, amoeba, fishes swim
Brief eclipse of time
Movement, changes, flux
slither, crawl, climb, walk and talk
Brief eclipse of time
Ra, Sol, Helios,
Mithra and the Mighty Eye
Brief eclipse of time
Life begins and ends
birth, joy, laugh, cry, death, and dust
Brief eclipse of time
Waves cleave sea, shore, sky
enfolding, watching, listening
Brief eclipse of time
The Mighty Eye - unfocused, stained, diffuse -
began to slip and slowly sink,
while frizzled waves imbibed her searing tears,
with salted languid lips
The Mighty Eye was weary, thin,
peering through the frozen cracks,
as some straying clouds,
bloated,
floated feebly by
and waxed their billowed tracks
upon the heated sky,
and cooled the rush of rolling waves
beneath the blotted sky
The waves, they hung in time and space before me,
- gently tumbling aging pebbles
and lifeless shells across the shifting sands -
seemed unaware
as they once again began
to veil the Mighty Eye,
to close the Mighty Eye,
to blind the Mighty Eye
Or perhaps they really didn't care
For, as the frazzled froth is rushing forward,
slowly toward the sandy shores beyond,
to retreat and then to rush ahead again,
eternally,
it matters little if the Mighty Eye casts
her blazing glance from high above,
or else retires for the night,
kissed by liquid lips of distant faithless waves...
in a brief eclipse of time
The trees, they hung in time and space behind me -
trees... which in time before had swayed,
gently tugged by ocean breezes,
trees... which in time before were lightly lit
with emerald leaves,
trees... which in time before had reached to space above
with leafy fingers,
grasping fingers,
clutching fingers,
fingers drenched with golden tears
shed by the Mighty Eye
The trees, they hung in time and space,
frozen motionless behind me,
- chilled with rooted premonitions of the void -
their fingers clutching darkness
and their leaves foreboding doom
The muted winds began to whisper tales
of many frightened things,
which, with mournful apprehension,
had ceased their joyful play
And all the while dank shadows gaily danced
a dismal dance,
for their time was soon to come
The fitful shore was suddenly still
Unfeeling stones and hollow shells,
were paused a little,
stalled,
and dropped haphazardly,
midst mindless random journey,
and abandoned by the sea
For fickle waves had slipped away to greet a falling prey
And as the Mighty Eye drooped lower,
laminated molten lips
pursed and puckered higher,
sucking in the sky
Within a trice the Mighty Eye
was swollen red,
perhaps tormented by the thoughts of premature demise,
or being lashed beneath a lid of distant faithless waves
And as a dying flash dissolved,
two lurid lips arose,
three lusty lips...
a thousand parted limpid lips which, quickly,
though with little haste,
consumed the Mighty Eye
The trees were then but lurking shades
amongst the murky shadows
Relentless fog seeped slowly by,
her floating tongues dripped silence as she passed
The lacerated savage lips had once again returned
to kiss
the vacant vapid shores...
in a brief eclipse of time
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lay Down Your Weary Tune
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
Struck by the sounds before the sun,
I knew the night had gone.
The morning breeze like a bugle blew
Against the drums of dawn.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
The ocean wild like an organ played,
The seaweeds wove its strands.
The crashin waves like cymbals clashed
Against the rocks and sands.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
I stood unwound beneath the skies
And clouds unbound by laws.
The cryin rain like a trumpet sang
And asked for no applause.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
The last of leaves fell from the trees
And clung to a new loves breast.
The branches bare like a banjo played
To the winds that listened best.
I gazed down in the rivers mirror
And watched its winding strum.
The water smooth ran like a hymn
And like a harp did hum.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shadows On The Wall
When the fantasy we live in
Lies in pieces on the ground
And there is no false illusion
That can turn your heart around
Nothing can change the way I feel
Nothing can take your love from me
If only I didnt worry
If only I could see
If only I could see
Chasing shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows as they dance on the floor
Chasing dreams that were forever young
Now Im on my own
Chasing shadows on the wall
Shadows on the wall
On the sea of mediocrity
Drifting from a distant shore
No goodbyes no celebration
No-one there to close the door
Only the silence that I feel
Only the lonely road is real
If only I didnt loose you
If only we could be
If only we could be
Chasing shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows as they dance on the floor
Chasing dreams that were forever young
Now Im on my own
Chasing shadows on the wall
Shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows as they start to fall
Chasing dreams that were forever young
Chasing shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows as they dance on the floor
Chasing shadows on the wall
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Guitar
With burdens bearing heavy down a road that's hard and long
My body's bent and weary so I'm reaching for a song;
My sorrows flicker - fading..., faint... - beneath the morning star,
While worried fingers seethe across the strings of my guitar.
Though seagulls fly forever, streaking, striving for the strand,
My troubles ebb, evaporate, with my guitar in hand;
Their turbulency's writhing neath the notes within the air -
And hunted by the haunting beat, they're vanquished everywhere.
With melodies erupting, bursting, splashing night with dawn,
The drifting dancing demons die, as time goes swirling on;
Guitars are roaming randomly across the rusty skies,
While cares have vanished, draped in dust of distant lullabies.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dreamer Deceiver
Standing by my window, breathing summer breeze
Saw a figure floating, neath the willow tree
Asked us if we were happy, we said we didnt know
Took us by the hands and up we go
We followed the dreamer through the purple hazy clouds
He could control our sense of time
We thought we were lost but no matter how we tried
Everyone was in peace of mind
We felt the sensations drift inside our frames
Finding complete contentment there
And all the tensions that hurt us in the past
Just seemed to vanish in thin air
He said in the cosmos is a single sonic sound
That is vibrating constantly
And if we could grip and hold on to the note
We would see our minds were free...oh theyre free
We are lost above
Floating way up high
If you think you can find a way
You can surely try
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I cannot get myself to write! ! !
in the face of the lonely night
i cannot get myself to write
amidst numerous inspired attempts
on lamenting flowers, torn leaves
on autumn papers, strewn all over
fallen from a fruitless heart
through the moonlit air, i am watching-
lonely lillies floating by - sadly
in a gloomy pond of fleeting memories
i too am floating, lost like i am
when i am in your smile
with you in my thoughts i cannot sleep
much less get myself to write
i cannot get myself to write - everything is in a sweet mess
the face of the night looks like the sea, of love, as they say
and i am ready to fall into the lips of the sky
to drown myself in it
i sleep in the morning, when the stars are gone
and i am done wishing
and when the sky is grey, i am blue
you resemble the rain, but it is I
who falls over and over again... for you.
in a sweet mess it seems, that i am deeply stuck in
this poem has caught up with irony,
on the road opposite to what it seemed to be all about
i never wanted to write anyway
just tell you things, things
i (really) love (telling) you
poem by Mthokozisi Ntokozo Maphumulo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Go Chasing Shadows
Don't go chasing shadows
When the night is a lion
Into a night that goes
With the last of a lonely ion
The night is in my love song
Thru the dark and mist
All days that touches and long
That yearning have kissed
Day by day left behind
Morning weary waking eyes
To the light day shall find
In the mist of daybreak skies
Don't go chasing shadows
When the night is a lion
Into a night that goes
With the last of a lonely ion
All in heart of the deep
Blossoms growing in spring
What they felt in their sleep
As they turn around to sing
Tomorrow´s awaking call
Feelings torching like lullabies
Beautiful dreams for all
Making love and inner ties
Dreams will never come true
If you keep on going lonely
Never seeing them coming thru
Just being inside of you only
Don't go chasing shadows
Don't go chasing shadows
When the night is a lion
Into a night that goes
With the last of a lonely ion
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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