Below is a collection of some of my more recent poems. I published some on Witchvox and some in earlier blog posts. Enjoy!
Cano Vitae
I’ve been listening to the silence,
trying to figure out what it says,
but the words are getting harder to decipher.
Because silence speaks with a voice
that few have ever heard,
and I am no exception to this either.
I’ve been looking at the wind,
trying to see it clearly,
but all that I can see is where it’s been.
I swear that it’s mocking me,
casually floating through the trees,
all the while keeping its face hidden.
I’ve been dancing in the rain,
trying to feel the sunshine,
but I guess Apollo’s sleeping in the clouds.
Everywhere I turn, the world is turning faster,
and the music always seems to be too loud.
I’ve been running through the woods,
trying not to lose your trail,
but as for prey, you’ve proven yourself clever.
Perhaps you are faster than I;
only one of us will eat tonight,
but the song of life is never truly over.
The song of life is never truly over.
Hell
There’s something buried here.
There’s a vengeance; there’s a need,
buried underneath the sand
and piles of debris.
It rumbles with the wind;
it clings to our clothes,
and if it rears its ugly head,
this desert may explode.
There’s something buried here:
an ancient, angry grief
under pebble-crusted dunes,
swallowed whole,
buried deep.
It stirs the blood of Soldiers,
chills the wary to the bone,
infiltrates our dreams with thoughts
of never going home.
There’s something buried here,
and that something wants us gone.
It says, “You never should have come,”
but we’ve known that all along.
Cano Vitae
I’ve been listening to the silence,
trying to figure out what it says,
but the words are getting harder to decipher.
Because silence speaks with a voice
that few have ever heard,
and I am no exception to this either.
I’ve been looking at the wind,
trying to see it clearly,
but all that I can see is where it’s been.
I swear that it’s mocking me,
casually floating through the trees,
all the while keeping its face hidden.
I’ve been dancing in the rain,
trying to feel the sunshine,
but I guess Apollo’s sleeping in the clouds.
Everywhere I turn, the world is turning faster,
and the music always seems to be too loud.
I’ve been running through the woods,
trying not to lose your trail,
but as for prey, you’ve proven yourself clever.
Perhaps you are faster than I;
only one of us will eat tonight,
but the song of life is never truly over.
The song of life is never truly over.
Hell
There’s something buried here.
There’s a vengeance; there’s a need,
buried underneath the sand
and piles of debris.
It rumbles with the wind;
it clings to our clothes,
and if it rears its ugly head,
this desert may explode.
There’s something buried here:
an ancient, angry grief
under pebble-crusted dunes,
swallowed whole,
buried deep.
It stirs the blood of Soldiers,
chills the wary to the bone,
infiltrates our dreams with thoughts
of never going home.
There’s something buried here,
and that something wants us gone.
It says, “You never should have come,”
but we’ve known that all along.
You Know Where I'll Be
Look for me beneath the branches,
buried in the brittle leaves;
I’ll be waiting after sunrise for
you to come find me.
I’ll leave my hair in tangles,
and I’ll wear your favorite dress.
We’ll live off air and sunlight,
forsaking all the rest.
This is meant to be;
we are all we need.
Scarlet ribbons bind us,
soul to soul.
The forest will keep us hidden
for as long as we require.
We’ll be the masters of our temple,
treading into the unknown.
Look for me not in the starlight,
nor by the light of the moon;
I’ll be where the sun warms the moss,
damp with autumn dew.
I’ll lead you into the valley;
we’ll walk hand in hand,
and when you finally find me,
you’ll never be lost again.
This is meant to be;
we are all we need.
Scarlet ribbons bind us,
heart to heart.
The forest will keep us hidden
for as long as we require.
We are the writers of our comedy,
acting our own parts.
Look for me beneath the branches,
buried in the brittle leaves;
I’ll be waiting after sunrise for
you to come find me.
I’ll leave my hair in tangles,
and I’ll wear your favorite dress.
We’ll live off air and sunlight,
forsaking all the rest.
This is meant to be;
we are all we need.
Scarlet ribbons bind us,
soul to soul.
The forest will keep us hidden
for as long as we require.
We’ll be the masters of our temple,
treading into the unknown.
Look for me not in the starlight,
nor by the light of the moon;
I’ll be where the sun warms the moss,
damp with autumn dew.
I’ll lead you into the valley;
we’ll walk hand in hand,
and when you finally find me,
you’ll never be lost again.
This is meant to be;
we are all we need.
Scarlet ribbons bind us,
heart to heart.
The forest will keep us hidden
for as long as we require.
We are the writers of our comedy,
acting our own parts.
Bitter Blade
Amazon
Cold the wind and dark the night
as I tremble by your side,
merciless and unforgiving.
I hold your name;
you hold the knife.
Standing on the edge, we balance,
Standing on the edge, we balance,
careful not to careless cross
the line we drew in months gone by;
we can’t give away
what we already lost.
Sharp the blade, bitter the end,
Sharp the blade, bitter the end,
more, but so much less, than friend,
merciless and unforgiving:
the wounds we made,
we cannot mend.
They say that healing comes in time,
They say that healing comes in time,
but I grow colder every day,
shivering against your chest;
the warmth you give,
I leach away.
Cold the wind and dark the sea,
Cold the wind and dark the sea,
swimming on the edge of dreams,
merciless and unforgiving:
there’s no more warmth;
you’re cold as me.
Autumn Lovers
The Forest Lord is getting old.
His beard is starting to fade;
the whisps of gold, now pale wheat,
were once bright as flame.
He walks among the withered stalks
of a harvest full and past,
while amber leaves scatter behind
the prints his boots have cast.
He wraps a scarf around his neck
and shakes his antlers fair
when he sees his lover, maid and mother,
silently standing there.
She spreads her arms, and to him she cries,
"Come home to my warm hearth,
for you've traveled long and with you I'll share
the bounty of the Earth."
He nods with pride, and with glittering eyes,
he takes her hand in his.
Together they walk through the wood
with the chill of the wind's kiss.
Autumn Lovers
The Forest Lord is getting old.
His beard is starting to fade;
the whisps of gold, now pale wheat,
were once bright as flame.
He walks among the withered stalks
of a harvest full and past,
while amber leaves scatter behind
the prints his boots have cast.
He wraps a scarf around his neck
and shakes his antlers fair
when he sees his lover, maid and mother,
silently standing there.
She spreads her arms, and to him she cries,
"Come home to my warm hearth,
for you've traveled long and with you I'll share
the bounty of the Earth."
He nods with pride, and with glittering eyes,
he takes her hand in his.
Together they walk through the wood
with the chill of the wind's kiss.
Amazon
I'm a stranger in a strange place, but I know my way around;
Though I am rarely lost now, I am hardly ever found.
This city is gray, the sky is bleak, and my head is full of fairy tales
With firebirds and Prince Charmings and villains who are doomed to fail.
Although the path is perilous, the hero must always win:
He slays the dragon, gets the girl, and his heart is free from sin.
One thing I never understood is why the girl needs to be saved.
Maybe the dragon is her best friend and the tower she herself made.
And what if maybe as the hero whisks her away,
She cries to the western winds, and she says:
"I'd rather be an Amazon, I'd rather run with wolves,
Braiding wildflowers into my hair and dancing beneath the moon.
I don't need a man who tells me to just accept my fate,
For I am my own hero, and I will not be tamed."
The nightfall comes so early up north this time of year,
The nightfall comes so early up north this time of year,
That the heroes can start hunting right when the shadows appear.
"Little girl," they like to say, and, "can I walk you home?"
"I'll be fine," is my usual reply,
"and there's a reason, there’s a reason why I walk alone.
"I'd rather be an Amazon, I'd rather run with wolves,
"I'd rather be an Amazon, I'd rather run with wolves,
Dancing naked in the forest and howling at the moon.
I'd rather bathe in mountain springs, I'd rather be forever free,
And if you want me tamed, don't bother wanting me."
This cat won't be declawed; this bird won't clip her wings.
This cat won't be declawed; this bird won't clip her wings.
If that prospect scares you, you can't be the man of my dreams.
An Alpha needs an Alpha, and I will accept nothing less.
Just don't expect me to ever be submissive.
For I'll always be an Amazon, I'll always run with wolves.
I'll braid wildflowers into my hair and dance beneath the moon.
When the weather's nice, I'll sleep outside, under the countless stars,
And though my lifestyle has its hazards, and I, my share of scars,
I'd rather be an Amazon and call on the Huntress' name,
Than ever let my soul be caged or let my heart be tamed.
If you think you can keep up with me,
If you think you can keep up with me,
And if I haven't yet scared you away,
Then I'm willing to let you try...
Maybe one day.
The Search
The breath of winter comes too quickly
The cold is settling deep in my bones
Autumn passed by in the blinking
Of an eye, and now it's gone
The empty space that was in my chest
Is frozen over and filled with snow
Much like this twisted forest path
Where I'm going, I don't know
I'll keep moving forward
I'll keep moving forward
Right now that's all that I can do
And maybe one day when I'm whole again
That's when I'll find you
I'm an ice queen here in my kingdom
I'm an ice queen here in my kingdom
Of naked boughs and gleaming white
Without a king, without a castle
I wander alone, but I'll be alright
The empty space doesn't hurt so much
Now that I've learned to numb the ache
Blindly searching through the frost
Though I still don't know your name
But I'll keep moving forward
Right now that's all that I can do
And maybe in this life when we meet again
I will recognize you
Promise, Fulfillment, Forget
I am the end and the undoing.
I am the voice of a hidden sky,
The seed of destruction, the shadow within you;
Dark and dangerous am I.
I will break you and your system,
I will bring your tyrants down,
And by the time the blood-sun rises,
I’ll have stripped you of your crown.
I am the end and the unforgiving.
I am the end and the unforgiving.
I am a generation lost.
I am the silence between the riots
And the riots’ final cost.
I will break you and your bindings,
Free the spirits of the Earth,
Reclaim the love that used to guide us,
And crumble corruption into dirt.
I am the scattered, I am the broken,
I am the scattered, I am the broken,
I am the abandoned and alone.
I am the purge, and I am the fire.
I am all, and I am none.
Morrighan
The warcries ring across the plain
With ravens circling overhead:
Clashing metal, beating drums,
Thunderstruck and nearly dead.
The God of War on his black steed
Tramples over the wounded men.
The God of War in all his glory
Is nobody’s friend.
Cry out, the Raven hears you;
Cry out, the Raven hears you;
The Morrighan calls your name.
When the darkness that will claim you soon
Cannot be held at bay.
Cry out for your lost Mother,
Whose price is blood and bone,
And when the bell-chime tolls for thee
You will not be alone
