• Nightfall

    You wrote the words to our swan song,
    But together we sang the melody.
    The bells rang out with the clamor of hell,
    Confused between mourning and glee.

    Now you’ll sing me to my sleep,
    And as I close my eyes and turn to rest,
    I’ll kiss your teary face one last time,
    And wish you, lady, wish you my best.

    When you leave and all is quiet,
    I’ll float away in nightmare’s seas,
    And fiery worms will cut through my lungs.
    I’ll try to scream, but I’ll only wheeze.

    The waters can’t drown me,
    I’ve just started my dying,
    And the fires won’t go out
    Because it’s too cold for crying.

    It’s the end of days, the beginning of night
    But my stubborn mind refuses to die.
    Rotting and burning until the break of dawn,
    As the waves rush in again but with tired sighs.

    August 3 – 1 Notes
  • The Fountain

    Children talk,
    And the waters march.
    In the end,
    It doesn’t matter much.
    But winds will blow,
    And eyes will see,
    As the world will never cease to be.
    Men will love,
    And then they’ll hate.
    But before the dawn,
    They’re always late.

    August 3 – 2 Notes
  • Moanet van Gogh

    Beauty stares at beauty,
    But doesn’t know what it sees.
    Silent waters,
    Surrounded by the humdrum
    Of thousands of lives,
    And still they must be caught.
    The mysteries of a still life
    Cannot go uncovered.
    If they did,
    And gentle ripples
    Caressed the stony shore,
    What would happen

    August 3 – 3 Notes
    #van gogh
  • Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know

    On a summer night,
    With a head full of tales
    And a stomach of poison,
    I fell into a hole in the ground.
    Fell into another world,
    Of silk and warmth and tenderness,
    And now I can’t remember
    If it was Heaven or Hell.
    There was love and fear,
    (And plenty of lust)
    Whispers and eyes
    That could end worlds.
    Breathless, sorrowful wonders
    Filled the burrow,
    The theater for the night’s campaign,
    Where minds filled with the glories and scars
    Of past battles
    Turned to better things.
    Songs flew from our fingertips,
    And poetry through our lips,
    Bathing in each other
    Until the world was a forgotten place,
    Where crocodiles and gods ruled together.
    Against my wits,
    And other things,
    I crawled into the light,
    And found it echoed
    With a cacophony of silence.

    August 2 – 1 Notes
    #to byron
    #free verse
  • Clint

    Summer’s almost gone,

    And there’s sickness in our necks. 

    If you’re not careful, 

    Don’t take quick steps,

    Autumn will overthrow you, 

    Tear you down, 

    And bury you.

    Winter’s frosts are reaching close.

    Hard, cold, and sharpened claws,

    But they sit on artist’s hands. 

    If you live,

    If you can still see,

    What they paint

    Will be your Masterpiece.

    August 2 – 1 Notes
    #free verse
  • A River Runs Through It by Norman MacLean
  • "When her hair glistened, though, she was worth it. She was one of the most beautiful dancers I have ever seen. She made her partner feel as if he were about to be left behind, already had been."
  • August 2
    #norman maclean
    #a river runs through it
    #beautiful girl
    #beautiful woman
  • A River Runs Through It by Norman MacLean
  • "It is a strange and wonderful and somewhat embarrassing feeling to hold someone in your arms who is trying to detach you from the earth and you aren’t good enough to follow her."
  • August 2 – 1 Notes
    #norman maclean
    #a river runs through it
    #beautiful woman
    #beautiful girl
  • Doldrums

    Pleasant secrets the wind does whisper
    But I cannot hear them.
    They are too far away
    For my eager ears to catch.
    And they aid me not.

    Listlessly I drift
    Upon the vast and empty sea
    The seabirds croak above
    As they wait for the end.

    The sun falls upon my naked body
    A thousand golden spears
    Searing my soul
    With the truths of the world.

    Alone, I can no longer
    Feel, love, nor see.
    But not quite alone
    Pain is my companion.

    July 19 – 3 Notes
    #another cringeworthy old poem of mine
  • Edward

    Upon the fields of France we meet,
    Two knights in armour shining bright.
    'Twas just beyond the town of Crecy
    Before that immortal, bloody fight.

    "Hail, my friend. We meet at last.
    And what brings us here?” I say.
    "We’ve come to take back Normandy
    And all of France, we may.”

    Together we rode forth
    To the sound of troops amassing.
    Whispering filled the morning air.
    A fatal rain was passing.

    Finally, the hour had come
    For a red dawn and glory eternal.
    "Let us go forth, comrade," he said,
    "Quell any fears internal."

    Furiously, we raised our swords on high
    And fought with fury seen never since,
    As I rode among knights of honour
    With Edward, the Black Prince.

    July 17 – 5 Notes
    #another horrible poem from a long time ago
    #the black prince
  • The Crest over the Moors

    Sitting upon a mountain’s crest,
    Golden in twilight’s dying light,
    A smile plays about her lips,
    Her eyes burning like crystals white.

    Her smile, an angel’s smile,
    Healing balm to an aching heart,
    Comforting a longing soul, 
    Finally making my life to start.

    Her laugh a heavenly laugh,
    Mixing with the music of birds and rain
    And the soulful sighs of the night-phantoms,
    Piercing my heart with its sweet refrain.

    The pale white face of the night
    Rises to embrace the darkened sky,
    Lighting the path by which we dance;
    In each other’s warm embrace we fly.

    And finally, when we sleep„
    Jealous elves upon us fall,
    Envious of a lover’s love,
    For their hearts are stone-cold walls.

    So this is how it comes about
    That I sit upon this lonely hill
    In twilight’s dying light;
    Dead as the boulders is my will.

    Upon my windblown cheeks
    Tears like crystal rain now flow.
    I sit alone as I weep, 
    Alone but with many foes.

    July 17 – 4 Notes
    #worst poem i've ever written
    #written a long time ago
    #but won an award for some reason