Posts Tagged "Poetry"

Chains

Posted by yseult on Jul 3, 2009 in Poetry

There are voices in this silence,
reprimand, anger, pain and frustration,
all come to speak without their usual words.

And every silence becomes a spectator,
of such a sorry display of refusal.
Their voiceless hardness is slowly,
ever so slowly, eating away at our sanity.

For silences are never alone.
Too quickly joined by symbionts,
death bringers and half-truths.

And the voices of these personaes,
so true they ring,
telling you you’re right,
telling me I’m wrong,
telling them they’re strong,
telling him he’s polite,
telling her the distance is wanted,
telling him he’s haunted.

By shadows past,
and feelings lost,
favoured heart, you’re letting it all be eaten,
digested, processed and forgotten.

And all because a crushing silence breaks more
surely than a true word ever could.

Morningstar

Posted by yseult on Jun 3, 2009 in Poetry

The world is at your hands and the sky is your playground.
You’re dancing among the clouds while we stay earthbound
watching your trail and you radiance to a new beginning.
Your blessings are so many that not even the stars could
start to guide your way towards that life that’s waiting just for you.

There are not enough words in any language to tell how you’ll see,
how you’ll grow and where you’ll land,
where your grace will spread into the brightest wings of human kind,
who you will touch and who will let themselves be touched by you.

So much, so less. So true.

If ever there was truth to be had in existence
alone: you’ll be its peak.
A life that once might be shared and truly lived,
protected, held and cherished.
In a new world. A new mind, a new me.

My beautiful child.

Prometheus

Posted by yseult on May 12, 2009 in Personal

The sweet grass bends in anticipation beneath my barren feet,
Somewhere a dead leaf is floating toward the earth,
and here… a sunbeam is crying it’s last glowing tear in my hand.

My heart so full, my words so empty.

I’ve drawn out my soul, pulled out every vein of every feeling,
ripped every shard of every nerve,
every break of every drawn out silence.

In the end I cut out these eyes that were supposed to see so far.

Clap my wings and fly away,
to nothingness and everlasting morning light.

Let me see this end for l am destined to stay
because there is nothing else,
because there is only this… final understanding:
we become the one thing we want to avoid the most,
no matter how many prayers,
no matter how many hours,
how much love, how much heart or conquest.

In the end we’re just another wolf feeding on someone else’s cadavers.
So take your teeth to some other liver, your claws to another lightbearer,
I am all but dead, all but empty, all but used and torn.

This night is not my last, but it truly is my longest.

I’ve had bits and pieces of this for a long while waiting in my notebook. Scattered, really. The first few lines that seem so out of tune with the rest for instance are a couple of months old written on my way to work. In the end, every piece is a journey, a projection. The true sense is only revealed when you reread the title after the poem. It’s a confusing piece and yet, I know exactly what every contrasting picture means.

Desert Flower

Posted by yseult on Mar 5, 2009 in Poetry

Don’t leave me yet, the night’s still young,
and the world is here even now,
greeting our every step and every sigh.

Shine your light, my heart,
drop your fears,
done your honour and your pride,
armour your eyes,
cast down the dreary pains,
and step out to shine your divine glow.

Don’t leave me yet, the day is not along,
our path here is not yet done,
your heart is not yet gone.

Death in all it’s disguises

Posted by yseult on Jan 1, 2009 in Philosophy and Pop Culture, Poetry

Touching your skin with cold fingers,
the sweetest sorrow of all,
pouring itself into every fibre of our being,
and wasting away the fine border that separates the you from the me,
the worst emotions from the best ones,
the hardest memories from the brightest ones,
the bitter moments from the joyful ones.

There is so much life here,
so much future in every cell and move,
so much love, it could not be contained.

My fingers’ trace is followed by my tears,
for love’s constant yearning which cannot ever be satisfied,
for lovers lost in hardship,
for death in all it’s disguises.

Your skin grows colder and colder under my hand now,
and outside the dawn is breaking…