Shadow Angel's Blog (9)

how dark this corner

it's that 'something best left in the past', thing that kills me the tireless effort to bury it and its seemingly effortless return how the voice speaks with no sound, denial; a wall too high to climb a heritage of swept indecencies and concrete rugs covering in the rear view I stood, a gloaming worn the long winter how dark this corner and how long the arm when kept at arm's length © Sasha '08 Continue

Added by Shadow Angel on January 27, 2009 at 11:37pm — No Comments

perfectly imperfect

the veil between is sheer I see you shiver to the gentle morning twisted limbs stretch beyond my vision so perfectly imperfect blemished with beauty you bloom within the frame as my fingers dance for the muse I wonder if trees write of us © Sasha '08 Continue

Added by Shadow Angel on January 27, 2009 at 11:37pm — No Comments

the letting

we rained watercolours to the dying wildflowers.. splashed the trees in droplets of water, howling they fell, like Autumn's children, drifting fire, in eerie acceptance to an earthen grave our thoughts whispered poetry in swirls and spirals of reds, oranges, yellows and browns we lamented nature's glories awakening the muse child to come, revel in the rush of the letting fields © Sasha ‘08 Continue

Added by Shadow Angel on January 27, 2009 at 11:36pm — No Comments

Six strings to his smile

I stand here, cloaked in my frustration, as I follow the teen trail winding its way through the house; socks, shoes, schoolbag, jacket, even his guitar pick. My poetry; a falcon caged in my throat, aching to feel the flight of freedom my ears hurt in sickness, sick of the sound of my own voice, I really need to relax. Then I hear his home coming, the front door, left wide open, his life blood drifting in, on the winter winds that dance my long hair, obscuring my vision for a moment, but I hear… Continue

Added by Shadow Angel on January 27, 2009 at 11:36pm — No Comments

'Happy' is a Puddle

I have often wondered, of the comfort of shadows, of how, I could be lulled in its blush, yet, it's touch upon my skin, still eludes me …as if I could get that close…to anything In the night's weeping, I would pray, silent, but for the rain, lilting, in its refrain… it fell, like falling stars, past the street lamp on the corner, to my prayers, to my dreams, to me, until we were drenched in the sacred. Just a rain-child, born with Autumn in my veins, a listener of winds tickling trees, a watch… Continue

Added by Shadow Angel on January 27, 2009 at 11:34pm — No Comments