What is this? (where ice warms to smiles)

Your eyes, they stare deep
And your lips, they kiss hard,
And I whisper;
"I don't want it to be this."
You move, move an inch,
A voice, soft as stone,
And a tear of air.
"And what, what is this?"

To you, it is
Love. Or desire. Or just the need
to have interlaced fingers.
It is the blue of the
Heart of the fire
before the seasons turn to ice.
It is the knowledge that upon this garish earth
Where snow melts to war,
Ice warms to smiles,
You will burn as many hearts as will love you.

To me, it is surrendering to a
beautiful storm;
Letting the thunder grip me, open palmed.
But thinking,
Always thinking:
What, what is this?

Fallen

I lie on this ground of fallen love, and I think
We’ve come so far.
So far for little sparks to light;
so hard for us to burn, and yet
we have.
If I told you, I know you’re next to me,
I’m just lost within myself,
your footsteps would barely touch the ground.
You would be gone, and I would be left.
But the world, it wouldn’t stop turning.

So I won’t say a word.
I’ll lie here, staring up to a big expanse
we pretend we understand.
And I’ll stay here until the frost settles,
And you’ll still be next to me.
Lying. On the icy ground. Waiting for an excuse to leave.

I wish when your eyes look up,
You could see the sky I’m seeing.
See that in between those stars
there is nothing. Darkness and mysteries and nothing.
And so those tricks of light, they must mean
something.

And so don’t you see? This, here, it’s not just you and me.
It’s you
And me
And this darkness and mystery and nothing between us.
These stars, they aren’t just mine;
Take some and Set yourself on fire.
And think, for once, what is the point?
When really, all we are doing is lying down
On a frozen ground
And waiting for the ice to melt. But we're already burning.

So hard for little sparks to light,
To burn,
To die.
My footsteps barely touch the ground.
But the world, it won’t stop turning.

Iterum.

Pounding at a bolted door,
Knives running 'neath the stars;
Sticks of slaves and thunderous whips:
Powdered crimson scars.
Here I am; your hourglass:
I've kept you behind bars.
Here I am, your final day;
The day you proclaimed Ours.

Sol solis mos orior oriri ortus
Iterum.
Iterum.

Ocean's azure innocence
Turned writhing in the dark;
Light symbolises safety,
But this fire is so stark.
Here I am, your conscience call;
Through me you leave your mark.
"Here I am; so ethical";
A drowning scarlet spark.

Sol solis mos orior oriri ortus
Iterum.
Iterum.

Swaying in the gentle breeze,
Trees sinking to the ground;
To the youthful piercing pupil
Desperate dancing is renowned.
Here I am, the death of them;
The cry of altered sound.
Here I am, the silent storm;
I strike their sorrow down.

Sol solis mos orior oriri ortus
Iterum.
Iterum.

Battle with the falling sky;
Your scream is held within.
The blood red tears of soldier's deaths:
Your condescending sin.
Here I am; your nightmare's call,
Gold melting off my skin.
Here I am; your only one,
The fire you did begin.

Sol solis mos orior oriri ortus
Iterum.
Iterum.

The struggling rays of sunlight
Leave hazy, burning scars.
The smoke above is rising:
Obscuring fading stars.
Here I am; your hourglass:
I've kept you behind bars.
Here I am, your final day;
The day you proclaimed Ours.

Sol solis mos orior oriri ortus
Iterum.
Iterum.






If you'd like a bit of insight into this poem (only a little as I think most should be left to the imagination), see my other blog - firefly :)

Delicate

I'm finding this life;

this mind; this world,

Fragile.

Delicate.

He called me to the long grass;

he lay entwined.

He said I looked

Tired.

Weary.

The cloudless sky cast shadows;

they chased;

Twisted between us:

Left clutter

where only still eyes

should remain.

I'm finding his devilish smile

a reflection of the storm:

Contradictory.

Enticing.

He only let me watch the sunset

so I could burn in the rippling haze.

Sweet flesh,

Melting.

The grass, it was severed

past the summer.

Entwined, he was lost;

devil's smile in the sun.

Blood.

Not Burning.

Torn.

I'm learning.

You can Fly.

I hear you in a whisper

On the reckless mountaintop,

I hear you in the echo

Of the Eagles as they drop.

I find you in reflections

Where your shadow's only seen

By the indistinct ripples

Of a still and tranquil screen.

I find you out here,

Outside, in the light.

I refuse to see your past

On a cold and lonely night.

Refuse to see you

Reduced simply to stone.

The body is yours,

But your life is unknown.

You live out here,

In the echoes; the wonder;

The trees that you climbed

As you tried to reach thunder.

You live out here,

Where you danced on the shore.

Where you gazed at the sky;

And wished those wings were yours.

And you wished you'd never die,

But now, my darling,

You can fly.

A reflection,

An Eagle,

An echo,

I leave you.

copyrightprotected.

Fire.

This red of passion, of fury, of vengeance
Curls its fingertips around the resting landscape
Ravishing it in life as it meets its death
As people, they try to make their escape.
I watch from a land so closely involved,
Frustratingly miles across the sea.
I wish my thoughts could somehow help;
Right now the world seems a cruel place to me.
We fear and we run from the unknown
And just as we think it is tamed,
We realise that the beauty of nature
Is a danger, a mystery, not yet explained.

I just want to say, whether the crisis in Australia is a natural disaster, or man-made 'mass murder', I hope the situation improves. And I know I can't help, and this won't help, but my thoughts are with all of those who didn't make it; all of those who have fought bravely against the immense power of the flames, and with all of the people who have been affected. I wish you the best.

Excuse me.

So, Mister President,

I saw your words today,
Falling from the mirror of your mistakes.
A mirage of joyous images
Sinking to their knees in your triumph.
You, the embodiment of all that is wrong,
Were standing on top of the world
While we fell to your jealous commands.



So, excuse me
When I tell you I am silently smiling
For your reign of half trodden footsteps is over.


So, excuse me
When I tell you the sun is finally out
And the frost that turned bitter in our souls is lifting.



So I saw your tear today,
As you realised your comfort was no more
Than a splinter found in snow.
As you realised our security in you was only that one day
You would leave.
And so we no longer had to bow beneath your foolish heart.



So, excuse me
When I tell you this era has come just in time.
And to see you leave is to see the dark clouds thinning.


So, excuse me
When I tell you this new era, with this growing hero
Marks the end of a drought, and a flood, and a war, and a conflict.
Marks the end of you.



So, I saw you look down upon his enigmatic smile,
Shaking your head at an enthusiasm you've forged throughout the fog.
But this world, it needs the flash of a summer smile
In the heaviest winter it has ever known.



So, excuse me, Mister Bush,
While I celebrate the end of your naive control,
And don't so much as wave goodbye.


Excuse me,
But my eyes are focused elsewhere; towards the horizon,
Where I see the smile
Of a summer world.



But summer does not come without its trials
And melting snow is the hardest to stay steady on.



So, goodbye, Bush.
And good luck, Obama.