Poemetry: Venus

Venus’ arms have been reclaimed

upon the body of Helen,

but they are crow-pecked and bloody-framed,

serpent-bit and seeping venom.

Still I venerate them, marble-wrought,

though they be but stone to me,

and face me not, embrace me not,

caught in Paris’ treachery.

Free! Break free of the walls of Troy!

Leave the calls of the common men,

flee the mend of the hoi polloi,

return to the halls of heaven.

Don once more the golden bracelets

that adorned those ivory arms.

A copper crown, allow me place it,

but gilds your hair with sunrisen charm.

And aptly so for you are the dawn,

sunbeams wrapped about your breast.

Stand with me, as in times foregone;

abide with me: end this siren quest.

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Poemetry: Giving the Light

Who would care if I poured out my light,

faded into the dark of a thousand nights?

Brighten the lives of others and dim my own,

give them all my joy and die alone?

Alone already but I’ll light a few stars

before I burn out;

find a purpose for the flame in my heart

then don the oaken crown.

Who would mourn my ember chilled?

Who with love and tears would my ashes gild?

Poemetry: Gray

Silken brume breaks into stone walls,

a castle rising behind mist,

and all outward advances halt

in the morass the fog has kissed.

Wizards weave white whispers wound tight,

and deign to dream the world in blue,

cast upon the winds words shy,

silent to all who would see them true.

Petrichor crushes the magic

and dispels the incantations;

fleet flee the magi frantic

and weep for their keep’s bifurcation.

Poemetry: Untouched

A book unknown, yet to read yourself;

words writ not by pencil but pen.

Pages untouched bear no bend

and stow soot and space on the shelf.

The dim and dust veiled your label,

left by men of miserable taste.

I drew you from your holding case,

placed you on a nearby table,

and read every tale and fable.

My heart halted with each comma,

and we wedded with each hyphen,

as I touched each untyped trauma

of whispered verses reviving.

Leave me to  stand your sheets as I

inscribe love across your wrists,

faith and troth upon your spine,

and tell you you deserve to exist.

Soon the scars no longer seen

will fade with your faux gold lining.

Free yourself from your bindings,

flee with me from this library,

and let us build our own study.

Poemetry: Call Me Nothing

Through the years, my name has changed,

though the font has remained the same.

Handles and labels and appellations

have loved me and left me, cast me to damnation.

I bid you to heed one adjuration:

by letters lost and sandy scripts,

forbid these from your tongue and lips,

and forget epithets of lore:

call me Nothing if not Yours.

Poemetry: She Lies

She laughs and sings and dances in rings.

She writes poems about life and meeting her knight.

She lies.

She smiles and prays for promises made.

She says she’s fine and that she’s alright.

She lies.

She doesn’t feel alone, that she’s on her own.

She doesn’t cut or consider suicide.

She lies.

Poemetry: Unspoken

Beauty or Death or Hate or Love,

which purchases my silence for you?

Not one, nor two, nor four, but three.

A glance and all would count Beauty.

A word of mine and Love is true.

Forswear, though, Hate by God above.

What but Death is left to comprise

the hushes of my wordless voice?

Yes, dead, and silent in demise

for the tongue no more stills by choice.

Dead, soundless by stiffness of heart;

living, mute to adore your grace;

In both, buried by empty space

where past phrases limned oral art.

Three have seized the name two once spoke,

but despots die, the lifeless live,

and all that sleeps may be rewoke

if the unspoken we forgive.