29 October 2009

The Canvas Blank

Part I
The canvas blank,
Saccharine sweet,
The notes silent,
A heart with no beat.

The colour poured,
It oozed appeal,
The heart now alive,
To the rhythm of the heat.

It pounded and tore,
At the putrid flesh,
Singed the impurity,
Till wings grew afresh.

Eve's garden of Eden,
Without the apple dream,
Late blossoms of spring,
Sparkling new streams.

E'en without the apple,
The serpent - he came,
Slowly and stealthily,
A mist with no name.

The flowers withered,
The streams ran dry,
Winter's cold breath,
Stilled her voice and cry.

The picture now bleak,
Dappled with grey,
Her shriveled wings,
Lost in the fray.

Her voice now a whisper,
Her laughter asleep,
The colours fade softly,
In poignant retreat.

The ghost of her melody,
Wandered the tomb,
The memories timeless,
Forever doomed.

Part II
Should you ever need to find her,
Know the journey's steep,
For that barren terrain of vultures,
Guard its precious secrets for keeps.

When you look beyond forever,
And life beyond her grave,
Fight the thirst and the hunger,
Till night gives way to day.

If you're the kind to puzzle,
On the key to this new dream,
Know that she was yours,
While you were still asleep.

She believed in your colour,
And should you wonder why,
Know that she saw forever,
When she looked deep in your eyes.

Part III
The canvas blank,
You blink in surprise,
Now how do you find,
Your precious prize?

A teardrop falls,
Warm, on to thin ice,
Joining the thread,
Through an invisible crevice.

Teardrop meets teardrop,
The other not quite dry,
The colours meld together,
In a symphony beyond time.

Part IV
Beyond the grave he found her,
Infused colour in her life,
The apple now the centre,
Of their garden of all time.

This time the shades are pastel,
Soft and tender like the light,
Still waters six feet under,
The foundation of new life.

11 October 2009

If Time were my Temple
And Love the revered One,
Would I open the doors for him,
And welcome him as I must?
What mortal crime
Did I commit?
That brought me
This impasse?

The drudgery
Of a dried out soul,
Till death
Do us part?
A whisper in the moonlight
Soft, melodious, clear,
Asking me to follow
The shadow of her tear.

The spell lingers
In the wake
Of the magical
Memory gone.

Her song playing
In my heart,
The legacy of its
Ghost - lost and lorn.