Posts Tagged ‘memory’

Lady Annabelle


 She has a will, she has a choice.

 Now too loud to hear the noise.

 All those who never wanted to be.

 And all the voices that we see.

 Today she drowns in her regrets.

 Tomorrow she is silent but will not forget.

 There is nothing else to give.

 She loses her will to live.

 Victim of fear, slave to her plight.

 Find your ray of light.

 Sound off chanting, ring the liberty bell.

 Tears will fall for lady Annabelle.

Madame Mysterious


We meet again,
as we have the past few months.
At twilight,
on the bridge over Penny Creek,
I approach your silhouette.
You come into focus.
Raven hair, ruby lips, green eyes;
all in perfect contrast to your fair skin.
Like every night before,
we talk.
The subject of our conversation,
yet again.
With winter’s chill upon us,
I pull you close, for warmth.
A closer examination of your radiance
causes my mind to wander.
Like the times before,
the thought of asking your name,
escapes me.
We sit in silence,
grateful of each other’s company.
Suddenly, it fades.
Your magnificent image,
absconds from memory.
I open my eyes to sunrise,
and think,
“Will I meet you today, Madame Mysterious?”



A temperament of vast degree.
We breathe it in.
For life is a cycle of sentiments,
a razor hook that dulls over time.
Scattered before us are dreams,
open windows in the firmament
that is our desire.
For we are just, and only human,
living to love and for Love,
we are embraced.
And by embrace to say we nourish
the memory of still life,
and in death, remember.

The Last Frontier


The sun drops low, under the winter’s snow
All goes dark as stars fill up the night’s sky
Our moon peaks up, giving off a subtle glow
Off in the distance is an Owl’s cry
As it spreads its wings and starts to fly
Trees once green, covered in frozen cotton
Wide open land, peacefully forgotten.


*The rhyme royal stanza consists of seven lines, usually in iambic pentameter. The rhyme scheme is a-b-a-b-b-c-c. In practice, the stanza can be constructed either as a terza rima and two couplets (a-b-a, b-b, c-c) or a quatrain and a tercet (a-b-a-b, b-c-c). This allows for a good deal of variety, especially when the form is used for longer narrative poems; and along with the couplet, it was the standard narrative metre in the late Middle Ages.

Fragments of Memory


I remember you,
in fragments of memory though it be,
the sight of those brown eyes locked in my mind
with an everlasting want to be near you.

I can no longer fathom your smile,
or your body, but I remember perfectly
the sweet aroma of your presence,
lying beneath those golden stars,
somehow wishing you could hear me.

There’s a stillness in the air I can’t
quite grasp, and the scent of recent
rain that tends to encompass the core
of my still beating heart.

Oh how I wish I could still feel your heart beat.

I no longer wane from wanting to be closer,
though I breathe and move;
I can still hear the distant cry that chills me,
though the starlit night never gave away
the warmth I now long for.

The frozen ground shatters beneath my feet tonight,
yet the rose I hold can never wither in the frost.
I never truly understood the feel of being alive,
never felt the quiet serenity in my empty mind…
until I met you.

I felt the midnight chill beneath my skin,
and tried so hard to catch the breath
between two distant stars;
to feel the warmth that comes from
those burning rocks.
I felt you there.

I rode the waves of love to catch myself,
believing that I still could love and feel;
no matter where the tidal waves had ever hit,
I felt you there.

Within the temperate night, I heard
your heartbeat, echoing, without a
body to survive. It soothed me once
to feel the warmth of your presence,
to know I bleed to feel that I’m alive.

Oh the feel of you to know just how alive.

The ravaged wind still blows without you here,
and silent echos awake the fear in me,
but all I know for sure by your essence,
is within your memory, I still breathe.