Personal Writings

Poetry

Upon this page are my personal writings; reflections of my thoughts, moods and emotions. The following poems were written in the year 2005.

Warmth
Walking round the manor grounds.
Listening to the nighttime sounds.
I feel a chill upon my skin.
The warmth of the window light entices me in.

Entering the room filled with soft, warm light.
My eyes perceive a beautiful sight.
The man I love sleeps upon a sofa there.
Upon his face has fallen a wisp of hair.

I brush it back from his bristled cheek.
Ah, a glint of his eyes doesth now peek.
His arms reach for me, drawing me down.
Next to his body, a sigh tis the only sound.

My head lies upon his broad chest.
Fingertips roaming as if on a quest.
But the warmth of the fire doesth entice us though.
Our breathing together in a natural flow.

Sleep makes our eyes heavy, and they close.
The hair on his chest doesth tickle my nose.
I smile, my arm wrapped tightly around his waist.
We have all night, no need for haste.

Ah, the logs make a crackling glow.
Nestled together, deep in love we know.
The warmth of fire is a wonderous thing.
But the song of our hearts we will always sing.

To Forgive and Forget, Not Likely
How does one forgive the unforgettable?
Knowing the harmer is unregrettable.
Used as a scapegoat since birth.
Absorbing all the pain and hurt.

Woe at the birth, a girl, not a son.
A child its mother would curse and shun.
Begging for death of this unwanted kin.
Blaming it for her very own sin.

The child she kept to use as a shield.
N'er giving a hug, or cooking a meal.
Few cared for this unloved girl.
Her mother pointing out a tarnished pearl.

This child sought her mother's touch.
Just a smile, kind word, not asking too much.
But n'er it did come, only a turned back.
Blame that filled an eternal sack.

Older, the girl into womanhood grew.
Wondering why her mother was a shrew.
Criticism at a daily pace.
N'er to win love's race.

Now, gray haired mother demands much care.
Not sorry for causing dreadful despair.
Ruining her life, she accuses her child.
But she made the choices all the while.

A grown woman sees the truth.
In her mother's face and words, all the proof.
N'er could she ever forget the blame.
N'er could she ever forgive the pain.

Another Chance
In my head doubts do dwell.
Words of hurt beginning to swell.
People once trusted, betrayers now.
Those of pure heart not easily found.

Rely on family, yet they want to harm.
Who to turn to for much needed calm.
Bitterness they live on, whining voices.
They made the choices.

Hands upon ears to keep the words out.
Louder and louder they continue to shout.
Time to make a choice of my own.
Time to leave that unhappy home.

Wandering round this land I roam.
Finding a love, making a new home.
Forget the past, push out the hate.
A new life of happiness is never too late.

Ever Learning, Ever Seeking
For all my wisdom, I am still the unwise one.
For all my knowledge, I am still the unknowing one.
For all my learning, I still cannot teach.
For all my seeking, I still must reach.

Throughout the years, life has been experienced.
Not all is spiritual, but based upon common sense.
Hardships and falls, balanced by pleasures and love.
As I seek below, so I seek above.

So I am the Elder, and yet still a child.
A rock to lean on, and yet still wild.
Age has no meaning, when forever young.
For each life I've lived, a new one has begun.

Born a Witch
Closing my eyes, I see the ghosts.
Happy times I cherish most.
Of a simple child's hope.
Just to be able to cope.

Daily, righteous ones yell and scream.
To break my will, destroy my dreams.
Holding steadfast I must try.
A small mind wondering why.

Heretic, heathen, demon child, spawn.
You should never have been born.
Surrounded by voices, harmed by hands.
Loved ones hiding heads in the sand.

The will was not broken.
Nor the soul forsaken.
A wiser adult I walk as now.
Refusing to let my pride be bowed.

Embracing the moon, power of the night.
She is a friend, the giver of light.
To nature's forces my heart I did hitch.
Born and bred, a true witch.

Empowerment
Willingly, you give me your life force.
Knowingly, you become the source.
You cry of your loneliness.
Blaming me for your life's mess.

The choice you made, you made alone.
To sit and wallow in your darkened home.
The glow of the screen lights up your face.
Afraid of the world's hectic pace.

Help me, you cried, so I gave you my shoulder.
But my own happiness only made you grow colder.
Not fair, you cried, to hear of my pleasant life.
Jealousy is the truth of your strife.

So, I sit and read your lying words.
You pray though that I have not heard.
Your guilty lies tell of your shame.
You feed me, I revel in your pain.

Speak my name, good or bad.
Pretend I was the one who made you sad.
Think of me, write what you will.
Empower me, bathe me in the energy you spill.

Not all my poetry is based upon life's experiences, or my mind traveling through the realm of fantasy. Occasionally, I do let my humor overrun me. Hence, I bring to you.......
Ode to a Jellybean
Ovoid of bright, shiny color.
Taste buds salivating for more.
Rolling round in the mouth.
Swallow, there it goes, down south.

Fruity flavors, some not so.
Try the red one, give it a go.
Fan the tongue, boy that's hot.
Spit, hit the trash can, what a shot.

Buy a bagful, perhaps a pound.
Chew a handful, hear the lip smacking sound.
Grab a tissue, looking like a fool.
Wipe up that multi colored drool.

Who needs drugs with this candy treat.
Smiling as you slip out of your seat.
Oh the pleasure you think with a blissful sigh.
Oh the pleasure of a sugar high.

Battle in the Night
Moonlight glints off silvery sand.
Shadows of dunes reaching like hands.
Sparse grass hides a knowing creature.
Peeking, large eyes a distinctive feature.

A slight flutter of wings as it ascends.
To pixie business she must attend.
Upon the shore the others came.
Brutish beasts clearly untamed.

Away she flew to warn the council.
Dunes rise before her like towering hills.
In the distance she sees a town's light.
Clashing sounds of a fierce fight.

The others came by land and sea.
Conquering all without mercy.
She continues on to her own people.
Just beyond the shadow of the town's steeple.

Flying fast, her heart beats harder.
To save her folk, and her own dear father.
There, her village, at last in sight.
But would they all flee or fight?

To the council she did fly.
To tell them of what she did spy.
They listened intently and nodded their heads.
A decision must be made she pleaded and said.

Nay child, we will not flee.
The others cannot our kind see.
We will not with their kind collide.
We are of the fae, our magic will bide.

The Elders gathered, one and all.
To the gods they sent up the call.
A wavering mist began to form.
Thunder heralded a gathering storm.

Down came the heavy rains.
Pelting hail caused the beasts pain.
Bolts of lightning lit the night sky.
Terrified faces the townspeople did spy.

In a valiant last effort, the others were swarmed.
A wall of bodies before them had formed.
Pushing them back towards the sea.
The others, so frightened, did flee.

Upon their ships they did sail.
Never did they expect to turn tail.
The gods were angry, this they did not expect.
Plans to conquer now were upset.

The little pixie stood in a daze.
The power of the gods surely did amaze.
The town and her village, all were spared.
Because they stood firm and dared.

Slowly her father's arms wrapped round her.
"She is tired, take her home sir."
He lifted up her in loving arms.
She fell asleep quickly, dreaming of moonlight and charms.

Inspiration
And so I sit by the tall windows of this sunny room.
Autumn breeze lifting leaves from branches soon.
Light flickering and flashing as if in signals.
A soothing afternoon as sleep lulls.

Dreams swiftly take up the mind's embrace.
Dashing images, a wild ride and chase.
Unknown people and places to recall.
Mountain cliffs, losing balance, the fall.

Awake, startled, what is that noise?
Fight or flight, the body is poised.
A tap at the window, quickly whirl.
Laugh of delight, tis only a squirrel.

Looking at the clock, time moves by.
Soon he'll be home, a heartfelt sigh.
To love and be loved, tis a great joy.
Shy and bold, daring and coy.

And so, pencil to paper I hold.
Words in my mind, a poem to mold.
All around, a story to be told.
The joy of living, a wonder to behold.

Life, love, the world doest conspire.
Creative thought and dreams doest inspire.
Ah muse, you do me good.
Happiness abounds, as it should.

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