Naked stars shine through
twinkle twinkle silent trust
Along the bridge looking down
past owns mortality crust
Trees sing to your wishes
unknown secrets, generations lost
Same thoughts frozen nights
high almighty, the last cost
Water rushes along shallow beds
spinning cushions of eternity rest
Smiles creep along my faces
whowherehow...personal test
One step up, the wind holds back
arms lifeless and forgotten
eyes disturbed from final thoughts
No life stirs the distant coffin
Another step up, my feet hold fast
nothing now to hold an empty heart
Just a pebbled cross and tomb
shadowed below in eternal depart
Balance upon the final peak
laughing and playing in demand
Tears are lost upon midnights shower
pushing my down into welcoming sand
Dampened surface slick to the touch
skate under myself in any direction
Lights shine color to my soul
jump, jump to deaths protection
My thoughts carress my soul
who so proud to close this book
Lifes own challenge to partake
escape none, end mistook
Sliding to sturdy wood, running
away from notice to natural wall
Passing away, why I cry so
no more this time, farewell fall
Into the heat I climb in
religious standards along the land
Timesless travel to home abode
into loves life owns demand
-Bearhawk Stormpaw-
These Scenes
The dull point, drilling into me,
pushed in, falling within my skin.
Poison to my ears, can I not close them,
All laughing blindly, a growing army of men.
Can they see me...no...never,
They don't believe I am here at all.
Showering falsehood upon altered states,
payments served upon a wordless call.
An X Cuts the Spot...all night,
I know, it is all so plain.
The laughing tears splash my face,
is it so simple at all, this claim.
Who knows this darkness for what it is,
I sure do not, I cannot even start.
These straps hold my every feature,
My face, arms, legs and heart.
I struggle every second passed,
the sand falls from beneath my feet.
Sinking below the surface of life more,
more...more into the fires heat.
Breathing in the sour dirt,
it seems hands yank me down.
Can I not swim...struggle...live,
survive with this heavy crown.
I feel feet trample upon me,
scream as I do, always unheard.
Give in as anyone, my face I hang,
upon the nail, my final silent word...
-Bearhawk-
Junked Heart...
A coffin, memories displaced,
a sore eye among faces.
Feet merge with solid ground,
haste seasons, unheard traces.
Time sings away the body,
fire warms sides of steel.
Strangers find an alone casket,
distaste, uncaring eyes unreal.
A beast of fumes and fluid,
hoist away a body cold.
Hooks jab and secure old flesh,
pulling...dragging...immortal hold.
Waste, strange faces burn a vision,
cannibles and filth, probing hands.
Pull away at decayed features,
rotting, penetrating bloody sands.
Fenced away from fancy dreams,
forgotten, sinking, blind cries scream.
New beasts growl and grind bones,
their senses track a buried dream.
Howling mechanical madness,
silent protest, countdown line.
Unmoving earth, barks set the choir,
tracks drain down, end of time.
Painless hands lift soaring,
pushing towards a final hell.
No contact with the bed of ruts,
smiling death, no tears ever tell.
Weightless decent, shatter the spine,
heaven drops fury, crushing the sky.
Laughter insane...uniform shapes,
boxed in darkness homes...wings fly.
Inferno sounds, peeling heat,
angels grab the boxed night.
Death holds shaking hands,
whispers of freedom in sight.
Lords own pit, swirling home,
melting hearts, minds, and feet.
Pain blessing the dive, form nothing,
everything...graves...cosmic retreat.
Faint echos overheard, dreams collide,
upon a cold mortar, stirred delight.
Poured and shaped with mechanical hands,
I lay asleep, never awakened, My endless night.
-Bearhawk Stormpaw-
Crimson Roads
Spattered flow stranded,
pavement forges a new heat.
Following strangers hands over,
as dreams offer the only retreat.
Hope pushes the wheels,
as strained breath cools fast.
Monitered voices call names,
and surrounded truth paves the past.
Stars echo through the cell,
while dismal sculptors seal the door.
Cries are heard behind curtains,
as steel blades battle the gore.
Warm rain stains the night,
while strands grasp at nervous skin.
Pounding screams protest sudden stillness,
as the dark wind stirs again.
Earth fills the evening light,
and flowers paint the fresh vault.
Silence finds no reason,
no aim, no sanction, No fault.
-Bearhawk Stormpaw-
Others Writings...
'Nothing'
Whsst,and away, and over the green,
scampered a shape that never was seen.
It ran without sound, it ran without shadow,
Never a grass-blade in unmown meadow
Stooped at the thistledownfall of its foot.
I watched it vanish, yet saw it not-
A moment past, it had gazed at me;
Now nought by mywself and the spindle tree.
A nothing!-Of air? Of earth? Of sun?-
From emptiness come, into vacancy gone!...
Whsst, and away, and over the green,
Scampered a shape that never was seen.
-Walter de la Mare-
I swung and swung at empty air
And when I heard the umpire
Behind me shout, "Strike three-you're out!"
My bat turned into a vampire.
The Whole team had to pry it loose.
Poor Ump looked sort of flat.
Now ever since, my bat and I
Walk every time we bat.
-X.J.Kennedy-
"The Devils Bag"
I saw the Devil walking down this lane
Behind our house.---A heavy bag
Was strapped upon his shoulders and the rain
Sizzles when it hit him.
He picked a rag
Up from the ground nd put it in his sack,
And grinned, and rubbed his hands.
There was a thing
Alive inside the bag upon his back
--It must have been a soul! I saw it fling
And twist about inside, and not a hole,
Or cranny for escape! Oh, it was sad
I cried, and shouted out, ---Let out that soul!
But he turned round, and, sure, his face went mad,
And twisted up and down, and he said "Hell!"
And ran away....Oh, mammy! I'm not well!
James Stephens
"The Worst"
When singing songs of scariness,
Of bloodiness and hairyness,
I feel obligated at this moment to remind you
Of the most ferocious beast of all:
Three thousand pounds and nine feet tall---
The Glurpy Slurpy Skakagrall---
Who's standing right behind you.
Shel Silverstein
"The Lockless Door"
It went many years,
But at last came a knock,
And I thought of the door
With no lock to lock.
I blew out the light,
I tip-toed the floor,
And raised both hands
In prayer to the door.
But the knock came again
My window was wide;
I climbed on the sill
And descended outside.
Back over the sill
I bade a "Come in"
To whatever the knock
At the door may have been.
So at a knock
I emptied my cage
to hide in the world
And alter with age.
Robert Frost
"Magical Eraser"
She wouldn't believe
This pencil has
A magical eraser.
She said I was a silly moo,
She said I was a liar too,
She dared me prove that it was true,
And so what could I do---
I erased her!
Shel Silverstein
BEWARE: DO NOT READ THIS POEM
tonite, thriller was
abt an ol woman, so vain she
surrounded herself w/
many mirrors
it got so bad that finally she
locked herself indoors & her
whole life became the
mirrors
one day the villagers broke
into her house, but she was too
swift for them. she disappeared
into a mirror
each tenant who bought the house
after that, lost a loved one to
the ol woman in the mirror :
first a little girl
then a young woman
then the young woman/s husband
the hunger of this poem is legendary
it has taken in many victims
back off from this poem
it has drawn in yr feet
back off from this poem
it has drawn in yr legs
back off from this poem
it is a greedy mirror
you are into this poem. from
the waist down
nobody can hear you can they?
this poem has had you up to here
belch
this poem ain't got no manners
you cant call out frm this poem
relax now & go w/ this poem
move & roll on to this poem
do not resist this poem
this poem has yr eyes
this poem has his head
this poem has his arms
this poem has his fingers
this poem has his fingertips
this poem is the reader & the
reader this poem
statistic: the US bureau of missing persons reports that in 1968 over 10,000 people disappeared leaving no solid clues, nor space, only a space in the lives of their friends.
Ishmael Reed
(By the way, this poem is not mistyped, just the way it is presented in the book I found it in.)
"Ghost"
There is a ghost
Who feeds on handkerchiefs,
Who will accompany you
Upon your voyage
And eat out of your suitcase,
Out of the bed,
Out of the bedsidestand;
Like a bird
Out of the hand.
Eat many things---
Not all things, not everything at once.
With eighteen handkerchiefs,
Proud sailor,
Did you set
Forth upon alien seas;
With eight to seven
Do you now return,
A sorrow to the housewife,
Christian Morgenstern
Translated from the german by W.D. Snodgrass and
Lore Segal
"The Listeners"
"Is there anybody there?" said the Traveler,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest's ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Travelers head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
"Is there anybody there?" he said.
But no one descended to the Traveler;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Kearkening in teh air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Travelers call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
'Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:----
"Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kepy my word," he said,
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Through every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
Walter de la Mare
"Hinkenthrift and Hickenloop"
Hinkenthrift and Hickenloop
Stood fourtenn mountains high.
They'd wade the wind, they'd have to stoop
To let the full moon by.
Their favorite sport, played on a court,
Was called Kick down the Castle---
They'd stamp their boots, those vast galoots,
Till king lay low as vassal.
One day while spooning hot rock soup
From a volcano crater,
Said Hickenthrift, "Say, Hickenloop,
Who of us two is greater?"
Across the others jagged brow
Dark thunder seemed to drift
And Hickenloop, with one swift swoop,
Ate straight through Hickenthrift.
X.J. Kennedy
"The Haunted Oven"
you're not supposed to roast a ghost
Or baste its half-baked bedsheet,
But every time my Mom makes bread--
EEEK!--stuck fast to the breadsheet
Is something bad that will not rise
(Poor Pop throws fits of jitters),
Just loafing there with rolly eyes,
Emmiting crumby titters.
X.J.Kennedy
"Strange Tree"
Away beyond the Jarboe house
I saw a different kind of tree.
Its trunk was old and large and bent,
And I could feel it look at me.
The road was going on adn on
Beyond to reach some other place.
I saw a tree that looked at me
And yet it did not have a face.
It looked at me with all of its limbs;
It looked at me with all of its bark.
The yellow wrinkles on its sides
Were bent and dark.
And then I ran to get away,
But when I stopped to turn and see,
The tree was bending to the side
And leaning out to look at me.
Elizabeth Madox Robert
Due to no poem material at this time...I only have a few to share with you... Email me some good ones so that this page may grow to better and larger levels...Enjoy..!!!
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