these lines betray ceremony a composition’s liturgy which determines if these words are ever to be heard or if the page in time will burn discarded but should they form the poetry of those emotions known to me then the rite of how I write will find its rhyme and remain unto the world regarded.
came again at dawn
heralded by waking stolen reverie
and as his hand
reached out for mine
a cold unearthly
stole all memory
of the dream
which had foretold
how our brief society
Hephaestus strikes the anvil and the world shatters apart his furnace red and fired as any lover’s heart. His passion spreads across the land and ashen his desire when the smoke has lifted such destruction has he sired
I try to recall, but yet the memory is elusive smoke from a long lit cigarette once birthed in glowing embered bright now scattered atoms in the night only a scant scent, lingers there not revealing out of air the single idea sought evolved from the million thoughts dissolved. .
the lavender boy had never lived therefore he never died his marble smile betrayed his lot that somewhere deep inside his stoney flesh a living heart was party to his woes that some sunsets you’d swear a tear fell where the lavender grows
and this vision in her silken shell remained a precious pearl alone in iridescent colours stained like crystal held her skin a sheen unlike any mortal man had seen until the day he dived within to open up her lonely world and whereupon he kissed her lips, and tasted passions new unfurled.