If the sun were a God and the moon a queen,
I would offer up my broken request
on time-bent sanctimonious rays.
Grant we may be found somewhere in between.

Hear this voice in dire need, suffering affliction
as it wanders whispered halls,
follows an empty vessel veiled in seclusion
in search of genuine connection.

Others are clueless, have not learned to see
they are lost and wander the paths of fools
cloaked in endless niavete.
We walk alone, in solitude and seek security.

I will listen for the words only druids hear
and garner life's greater wisdom.
There lie many truths to be learned,
to be applied as a balm on our wounds of Fe.

Angelina L. Shafer
Email
Author's Biography
Author's Homepage


Ties That Bind Poetry

There are those who claim
to be masters of poetry
yet, they fool only themselves.
For only in giving will we soar.
There are no masters,
only slaves to the muse.

As we draw from living places,
where minds can meet and merge,
we search for what awaits us.
We pull our script
from pen and heart
within poetic reach.

Words flow from what we feel.
The waters that quench our souls,
drench our desire to understand.
Excitement explodes when thoughts collide
and gives our children primal breath,
As dreams bloom into reality.

And so a poet gives birth,
and the well within
binds our poetry
and makes us whole,
for a moment at least,
until our thirst resumes.

Angelina L. Shafer
Email
Author's Biography
Author's Homepage


Damned Destiny

The willow weeps no more than I.
Its beautiful tassel-tendrils
sway to Neptune's rhythm,
in harmony with life's azure waters.

Aegnitas showed me no favor.
I was sore afraid of the darkness
that enveloped my fragile ego.
Where were the broken dreams hidden?

Why was I so alone, left to wander?
No answers met my empty ears
that longed to hear as
I cried out in desperation for Bona Dea.

No refuge found to hide my hurt,
only tears of desperation and separation
from a lifetime passed beneath my eyelids.
Rumpled mildewed linens my only cover
from the cold life that surrounded me.
Thus I chose to join Bacchus,

immerse myself in the black
crystal decanter at my bedside.
I choke a whisper, as I await the grim prince
of my destiny.
"Let me feel the sting quickly."

Angelina L. Shafer
Email
Author's Biography
Author's Homepage


Poetic Vigilance

His quill does sprint such gentleness,
prowls through our pillowed dreams.
Haunting words beguile and wisp
beyond passion's extreme.

He has no clue as to his ways
how multitudes he does entreat,
through time spent in reclusive days,
where flavored words on parchment meet.

None but he could sway in tune,
beats plucked from Heaven's gates,
nor cause imaginations swoon
such words as he inoculates.

Each thought displayed in care by choice
through time and air, held no relent.
None designed to tame his passioned voice
which he kept ever vigilant.

Angelina L. Shafer
Email
Author's Biography
Author's Homepage


Feedback

If anyone has feedback or comments for any of the authors, you can either send via email, or click the feedback link above, and your message will be forwarded to the author.