Posts tagged "Poetry"
  1. Notes: 1 / 2 years ago 

    The most exquisitely torturous Fantasm

    Ah, to awake sweating and breathless from a nighttime emissary apparition. Perhaps the only sadness which is briefly but intensely enlivening. Oh, but the melancholy afterwards… Still, it’s been a while now - is that a good thing?

    Gently I awoke, to feel you softly breathing

    abreast, in perfect frozen serenity you laid
    Still, I eyed you with a mindful disbelieving
    Far too immaculate a scene, which betrayed
    that in my bed, besides me, and deceiving
    my eager senses is really merely but a shade
    I wasn’t truly seeing, indeed just perceiving
    Realizing that ghostly remnants do pervade
    my dreamstate anew, fantasy begins to fade
    Again I wake, sorrowed chest weakly heaving

    Damned jerking reality shift tore me from vainest bliss
    Fabricated paradise! Yet one in which I’d fight to exist
    A frigidly icy space, as of an unmistakable emptiness
    belies this biting truth which now is shown far plainest;
    by me no-one lays, as only a silent void does persist
    It seems there’s an invisible, utterly impenetrable rift
    betwixt us, slumber’s vault harbors this shadowy Miss
    No efforts on my part can free her from dreamy midst

    Shamelessly panting and pleading, screaming silently
    All that I am now afforded is blurry, fading recollection
    and wretched thoughts on how good that it would be
    should my dreams, with their euphoric self-deception
    and splendidly beguiling finery, become awoken reality

  2. Notes: 1 / 2 years ago 

    Trapped in mine own Mask

    Deep into my pretty mirror, each morning, so long I do gaze
    in it’s vast reflection that, daily, I am given, to wear, a new face
    and I’ll feel an old cherished friend put to stake and left to raze
    So come each new day’s dawn, I can only hope to win it’s praise
    For the days when I lose it’s favor are nearly more than I can take
    Many possibilities adorn such familiar mannequins on it’s well-lit stage
    but I do not know which mask I’m to bear until it is far too late to change

  3. Notes: 18 / 2 years ago 

    Immortal Tusks

    Together, on one fine day, we left, at no vocal request,
    with great haste and no thought spared for the hereafter
    A dark continent, bearing adventure’s well-worn crest,
    was the destination of our erratic and impetuous quest
    Whilst there we adapted, shared in tears and laughter,
    befriending bleak hordes now hopelessly dispossessed
    Whence natural fury did stir, bringing about grand disaster,
    both communities and structures alike endured the stress
    We lent aid to the distressed, laying those no longer to final rest
    We helped upright buildings for those who heeded no master
    We rebuilt bridges that elephant herds tread longer still after
    A century from now, these forgotten things will still matter,
    when even elephantine memory begins to fade, but no faster,
    when our bones are ashen and have just began to scatter,
    hooves with ungulate grace will still be heard to clatter thereafter

  4. Notes: 2 / 2 years ago 

    Words from a Dream

    I’ve regenerated the sky again,
    and now all that I can see
    is the hemorrhaging of energy
    where your star’s spot should be

    You’re pretty and you’re wise
    like the old young Queens of yore
    You’ve bested me far better
    but, really, who’s still keeping score?

    I’ve entered your memory’s chateau,
    with hands raised only as a show of peace
    but still I am to be greeted by old guards
    wearing wreaths bound with plate-armor grief

  5. Notes: 1 / 2 years ago 

    A preface to an Ode - Per aspera ad Astra

    It is so very hard to write about us
    and harder still even when I’ve tried
    You wanted words that I have lost
    Do trust that I’d give them otherwise

    For we were born in, and of, a lust
    A wordless dictum of a phallic quill
    invalidating an expression via thrust
    Things shifted, words became a must
    So, hence, my dictation at your will:

    My hand has so stayed from penning
    in it’s patent, maybe well-worn, style,
    words used previously in condemning
    those whom I’ve now chosen to revile

    I would seek, and as I’d claim rightly is your due,
    to distance even your passing, fleeting mention,
    but especially when the context is poetical review,
    the notion that you conjure in my mind’s dimension
    from the inferior attempts that preceded finding you,
    to elevate it from their taint; immaculate ascension

    These are words which needed saying that I willfully neglected
    Truths, true as tautological, that I’d have still zealously rejected
    Though now I feel a surge, a rush to which I’m easily subjected
    as regularly as precious thoughts of you can be feasibly expected
    I’ll start my scribing, damned be my constant want of the perfected,
    long overdue is an appreciative appraisal being your way directed

  6. Notes: 1 / 2 years ago 

    LAPping at the Black LACE of a DEMON’s Veil

    I believe it to be so that nothing can be truly lost forever
    but oft rather merely misplaced, transmuted or forgotten
    Those few words of utterance, before ties were to sever,
    might seem as if scattered to the wind, long since trodden,
    by time’s fear inspiring tread, whence memories slowly rotten

    But rather, to the contrary, they live on in a different manifestation
    That moment’s words, and their vibrations in the surrounding air
    transferred energy to the molecules around the vocalizations there
    Subatomic oscillations carry the legacy of your meaning by causation
    spreading through the world like the shedding and dispelling of a tear
    does extirpate one’s sadness and sows it quite rightly anywhere but here

    It travels onward like a vagrant, whom hasn’t any home
    and must always roam in that aimless, almost flagrant
    trawl of someone cast away in a sea topped with foam
    frothing with all the concepts sown of emptiest dismay

    Was it good that it even arose?
    Now, it won’t cease I suppose
    It may never reach a repose
    What a thing to transpose

  7. 2 years ago 

    Pages yellowed with the Ages

    My eyes, at mine mind’s behest, continue a ceaseless scan,
    wearied though they’re now, being nary so inclined to blink,
    wide with fervent reverence, of my library’s immense span
    Re-reading the archives of rotting parchment and fading ink
    Words now so ancient as to seem sourced from another man

    My poetry grows stale, regurgitated and copied
    It is taking form of the forms of yesteryear’s folly
    No longer is there pain for them to properly embody

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This humble writing blog is where I unburden myself of the ideas which occupy my mind from time to time. It is that and nothing more, though also nothing less.

I welcome feedback, criticism and comments.

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My name, if you think it important, is Ryan.

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