Wednesday, 29 June 2011

The Robot

Hi all!!!¡¡¡!!!

I've written a poem that I could probably drag on forever

So I'm gonna write a series of poems



Around the workshop figures stir,
Gears and wheels spin and whir,
Motors creak as they begin,
To melt and form the model within,
As molten steel and circuit boards meet with a hiss,
A head shape is formed and two eyes can see this,
As the head sees a body, two legs and two arms,
It sees them attach to it, science and charms,
As soon as it's finished the figure sits up,
Strides out of the workshop and into a truck,
Which it hot-wires expertly and drives off you see,
To go start creating its own robot army.


Sunday, 26 June 2011

The Rose and the Oak

Hi all!!!¡¡¡!!!

I wrote another poem!
It becomes more of a nonsense poem at the end.


A rose of pure beauty grows afoot a great oak,
The rose weak and delicate, easily broke,
But the oak tree stands tall, it is stronger and wide,
Yet lacking the beauty the rose has inside.

One tall, one slim, one pretty, one not,
But both have their place and they both mean a lot,
Though the tree lasts for years and the rose lasts much less,
It's own short lived life is quite equal to the best,
Of the trees that surround it I'm sure you'll agree,
That a rose makes a far better gift than a tree.



Saturday, 25 June 2011

The Realm of Terenok

Where the blue grass grows
Under two suns in the sky
And the glass forest whistles
As a breeze flutters by

Manta rays rule air
Giant snakes rule the sea
While cats, black as night,
Spotted white, roam free

In this realm of wonder
Of nightmares and dreams
This dangerous beauty
Is never what it seems

A Ghost's Farewells

In the night the girl stands quietly
Her eyes the color of shattered crystals
In the breeze her pale hair a-drifts
A sad tune she sings melodiously

About her feet, a tattered white dress billows
As her cold blue arm longingly uplifts
She sings of her past life and her adoration of one man there
To the bedside of her eternal love she goes

She stands 'side him to look into his feverish eyes
Her song she sings and his gaze right through her stares
Ghostly tears tremble upon her lashes as she breathes her good-byes...
For the last time her cold lips upon his forehead brush

But before she can disappear he does mutter, "Wait!"
To him, she soothingly murmurs, "Hush..."
To leave, she tries once more, but he sees her in his feverish state
"Let me come!" She weeps despairingly and says to him he cannot.

She tells him, for them both, he has to live here.
She quietly lays him to slumber once more.
"Ill always wait for you," she whispers in his ear
As she drifts away to patiently await him upon the cold shore...

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Firenze: For Ann Marie

She came one day
A little baby goat.
So sweet and beautiful
Joy filled a noble heart.

Many days passed
watching the precious critter grow.
Firenze was her name.
She played among the fields.

Pride filled that gentle heart,
Of Ann who we hold so dear.
What love she had for Firenze,
A goat that was unlike any other.

Then the dark day came.
A freak incident it was.
The life of sweet Firenze
was cut off before it even began.

If only Ann knew,
As her tears flow freely.
That little Firenze rests,
In the arms of an angel.

Gently carried up to Heaven
To play with her Maker.
She runs among the lilies,
Forever safe and happy.

I know you mourn
my dear friend Ann.
But I believe with all my heart,
That animals do go to Heaven.

Here is a hug for you.
Use it as you need it.
Here is my shoulder to cry on.
Until your tears subside.

We all will remember,
Your tales of sweet Firenze.
A truly delightful goat,
Who brought a smile to your heart.

Beautiful art done by our very own Aquila Felis. Posted by permission exclusively for Ann Marie, Leona, and family in honor of little Firenze. Thank you Aquila for this exquisite portrait of a beloved goat.

The Cry of Quinnera and Kallista's Answer

This is a reposting of Quinn's poem posted here with her permission.

Following her poem is my answer in wich I speak for all of us as I know your hearts where Quinn is concerned.
Quinn is an exceptional poet. I encourage you all to go to her blog and read the others.

The Cry of Quinnera


She is tall and thin,
With eyes of oak,
Her skin is dark,
She hides in her cloak.

Only the cloak,
Can hide her tears,
Hiding the shame,
Hiding her fears.

The pages waft,
In her old notebook,
Her tears hit the floor,
As she takes a look.

Within the book,
Lies poems and more,
Stories and art,
Are what she saw.

Each words seems worse,
Worse than the last,
Every page,
Seems like scrap.

She doesn’t see why,
She thought she had talent,
She knows she had nothing,
To her this was apparent.


She wondered if they’d miss her,
Her family and friends,
She thought as she puled,
That they’d overcome her end.

Drawings and paintings,
Fell to the floor,
Of her works,
She saw more.

Her pillow was stained,
With tears and blood,
Blood from her wrists,
And tears of her love.

Her friends couldn’t see it,
What was going on,
They didn’t understand,
She would never belong.

She needed a shoulder,
She needed an ear,
To listen to her problems,
To understand her fear.

And she sighed because,
She knew her nightmare was coming true,
No one would miss her,
She was sure this was sooth.


Silent suffering is the worst,
As those who could help,
Will never see,
Your silent yelps.

She wants people to see,
She wants people to realise,
She wants people to help,
She wants people to sympathise.

But she’s scared they’ll tease,
She’s scared they’ll laugh,
She’s worried they’ll judge her,
It would tear her apart.

She doesn’t know what to do,
She is most confused.
Her heart is crumbling,
Her joy is diffused.

She doesn’t want to succumb,
To her terror,
But she doesn’t have a choice,
It’s too late to fix her errors.

She picked herself up,
She picked up every page,
She tore them into pieces,
Until only confetti remained.


She fled to the streets,
Away from her home,
The confetti in hand,
She ran alone.

In her eyes a sad gleam,
She ran and she ran,
‘Til she reached the shore,
Her mind span.

The pieces in her hand,
Of poems and lost words,
Of art long gone,
And music once heard.

She threw them in the sea,
The oceans endless depths,
Some floated and some sank,
But the memories were only left.

She sank into the sand,
But turned to face the sky,
She was burning with the memories,
And she began to cry.

“I am a poet no more,
And never again will,
Take me for what I am,
A simply lost girl.”

Kallista's Answer

What once was lost can be found
You are a poet,it always will be true
Your tears are priceless and saved in a jar
by one who cares and is never far

I have waited and others too
for your return, your companionship needed.
You are wanted and loved
a delight to be around.
It does not matter if you,
are happy or feeling down.

As long as you are here
I feel reassured,
I knew from the beggining
you were meant to be with us.

A girl who is both fragile
and yet so strong
Your wisdom is remarkable
your friendship, so delightful

I love when you are here
But I am sad when you are gone.
Torn between patience and eagerness
I await your return.

You have captured the hearts of many
a treasure you are to us
WE may not ever truely understand
the pain that you are forced to bare

But trust that we love you
and only want you to be happy
never will we laugh
at a soul who is beautiful and noble.

I can't hug you in person
but I do it everyday in my heart.
I give it to you and hope
that you will know I am there.

To listen or laugh with you is my desire
To see your works of art take flight
and your dreams to succeed.
I have faith in this and faith in you.

This is my attempt at poetry
it's clumsy and can not say
all that I had hoped
to help carry away your pain.

But know that I care
and others do too.
I lift you up daily
in prayer to my God.

I pray you find comfort.
I pray you find peace.
But most of all I hope,
That you know you are loved.

*forever hugs from the heart of Kallista*
Love you Quinn!

Monday, 20 June 2011

Love and Loss

Once the light of your eyes,
I am now cast aside.
Replaced by one who is new.
Your love for her is inspirational.

Yet you won’t let me go.
You keep me around.
To sit in the shadows
and watch you romance her.

Your favor she now has,
She is cast in your stories.
I am forgotten, left waiting,
for the smile and the occasional glance.

My glory has faded
It was brought on by you.
I am a relic in the past
Yet held prisoner to your will.

How I long to be free,
to travel elsewhere.
To be happy too
Instead of only viewing
from beneath your feet.

Saturday, 18 June 2011

Short Sweet Poem

I started a blog for poetry and writing, and this is a poem I just wrote a minute ago from the top of my head.

Blue skies up above me
dotted with cotton white
trees waving in the breeze
basking in sunlight
Blue skies up above me
on this glorious day
a sweet song ringing
from a little blue jay
Blue skies in the summer
you know it to be so
a time to be outside
a time when flowers grow 

Like it?

Thursday, 16 June 2011

The Bride

The young bride stands alone covered in blood.
The bright crimson stains on white satin.
With eyes vacant, standing between despair and hell.
She faces her doom alone.
Before her a figure, ancient and cold
swoops down on her in a flurry of movement
Her final scream is cut off by a wicked kiss
Then her body drops to the floor, empty of blood.
Tonight when you wake,
says the dark figure with contempt.
My minion you will be,
a slave for all eternity.

The Linden Tree

Helloooo! Ruby here!
I like linden trees (or lime - it goes by different names) for some reason or another - probably because it has so much cool history and stuff...

The Linden Tree

With honey flowers and heart-shaped leaves,
with healing powers to cure all grief,
this holy tree we once held sacred
this linden which was once beloved.

With tiny fruit that rarely ripen,
with beautiful wood that quickly heightens,
this holy tree we once held sacred
this linden which was once beloved.

With green leaves late into fall,
with heights up to forty meters tall,
this holy tree we once held sacred
this linden which was once beloved.

With the Virgin’s likeness carved in its skin,
and with Aphrodite’s name it once was akin,
this holy tree we once held sacred
this linden which was once beloved.

With emerald leaves adorning its crown,
with sturdy trunks that have been cut down
this holy tree we once held sacred
this linden which was once beloved.

A Recoil Reaction

Well I suppose I have to post something on here. But all I have at the moment is this. So here it is. Hopefully it's not too awful.

A Recoil Reaction

Phantoms weep

When a poet is no more

Suns will drown in endless sleep

When a poet is no more

Dusk will fall and twilight rise

Ravens talk and cruelty cries

When a poet is no more

Silence roars

When a poet is no more

Oceans flee from sandy shores

When a poet is no more

Forests quake and mountains shake

Deserts tremble, giants wake

When a poet is no more

Stars will sprawl

When a poet is no more

Diamonds break and empires fall

When a poet is no more

Wars will cease and so will peace

Death will run and life will crease

When a poet is no more

Bravery quails

When a poet is no more

Sadness grows and hate will fail

When a poet is no more

Children play and flowers droop

Joy goes on whilst pride must stoop

When a poet is no more

Words will falter

When a poet is no more

Thought will end and memory halter

When a poet is no more

Sight is blind and shadows scream

Touch is numb and stones will dream

When a poet is no more

Rivers run

When a poet is no more

Storms decay and rainbows shun

When a poet is no more

Envy glitters, wrath will wail

Light will pass and dark prevail

When a poet is no more

Hope is lost

When a poet is no more

Mirth is cheap yet friendship costs

When a poet is no more

Time will twist and truth will see

The end of all eternity

When a poet is no more

Roses for Ann Marie

Silently she stood on the hill,
Overlooking at her childhood home.
So many memories she had left there
Before embarking on her own.

Unbeknownst to her
as she drifted through her thoughts,
were a pair of heavenly eyes
watching her from above.
A woman now grown
with a family of her own
Took great care of God’s world
and the people she met.
With one faithful husband
who stood at her side,
And two lovely daughters,
The light of her eyes.
She took care of goats,
dogs, horses and chickens.
A couple of cats ,
Her constant companions.
It may seem small
what dear Ann Marie could do
But in the eyes of the angel
she was mighty in heart.
Time and time again,
she would mend broken fences
Skinned knees and broken hearts.
Not just for family, but for strangers alike.
A few weird people she met
and though their faces she did not see
She offered up kindness, fairness and equality.
Wisdom like hers does not come everyday
It’s a treasure to be taken carefully.
And so the angel inquired above
As to what gift he could give
To this dear one so loved.
Her worth beyond that of gold.
It was not much for a woman so rare
But what she found when she returned to her home
Was a field of roses that had not been there before.
A blooming array of every color,
Red, yellow, pink, white and purple too.
The delightful fragrances
drifted through the air,
of each brilliant bloom
that was planted there.
For every rose that graced the field,
represented the pureness then kindness
of Ann Marie’s priceless soul.
A large field of roses may seem small
For such a life like that of Ann Marie
Who’s light shines in the darkness of strangers
And makes a way for friendships with laughter.
On this side of heaven
Where such people are rare
A field of roses pale
Beside the true beauty of Ann Marie.
But the angel fervently hopes,
and I do too.
That Ann Marie will be encouraged
by this small gift of favor
And continue to light up
the darkness with her love.

The Ancient Poet

Octaboona, see as you've never REALLY written yourself a poem, I decided to write one for you.


The ancient poet, wisest writer,
To have lived and changed the world,
Dedicated to to the list of,
Unenlightened individuals.

Writing, writing, always writing,
Writing poems for ever more.


Wednesday, 15 June 2011

The Mirrored World

Hi all!!!¡¡¡!!!

Another poem!


The day, the night,
The dawn, the dusk,
The sun, the moon,
All mirrored worlds.

The dark, the light,
Most basic mirror,
As life untold holds much of both,
The black, the white,
They clash and shimmer,
As the play unfolds on the stage of the world.


You Are my Darkness and my Light

Here's a poem I wrote...
(yay! First of mine on this blog)
It's a love poem...

My world has fallen in two.

One half is darkness.
One is light.

You are my darkness.
You are my light.

I cry every night,
every day.
When the sun comes up,
when the stars shimmer in the sky,
like eyes,
watching me.
Watching you.

You went and broke my heart,
you tried to heal it, too.
But there’s nothing you can heal,
when my heart is torn in two.

You cried with me today,
you scorned my tears last night.
You hurt me day by day
but today you made it right.

My world is still in two.
Why is it so hard to stop loving you?

The Trees

Hi all!!!¡¡¡!!!

I hope you like this short poem I wrote.


Two dark trees stand tall,
The keepers of the gates,
That lead to creatures, plants and fields.

Always there, and always swaying,
In sun, storm, snow, rain,
Always here, unreachable,
But still here just the same.

Birds land and nest on the trees,
Flutter flutter flutter fly,
Creatures thrive, from ants to bees,
The trees forever seem alive.

Always there, and always swaying,
In sun, storm, snow, rain,
Always here, unreachable,
But still here just the same.

The winter comes and now deserted,
Those two trees stand bleak and cold,
Countless years, those trees outlasted,
Where some are cautious, they stand bold.

Always there, and always swaying,
In sun, storm, snow, rain,
Always here, unreachable,
But still here just the same.

The memories from all my life when here, involve these trees,
Ancient beyond comparison, and none the worse for wear,
The guards of nature standing tall,
They always will be there.

Always there, and always swaying,
In sun, storm, snow, rain,
Always here, unreachable,
But still here just the same.


Wednesday, 8 June 2011

The Dawn Chorus

Hi all!!!¡¡¡!!!

I've discovered, with the help of Skyril, the first few poem things that I wrote. They are very short but enjoy!

It's getting light again,
The skie is blue once more,
The birds still sing,
The world awakes,
The darkness is no more.


A golden orb ashimmer in the sky,
Begins to climb the arch that is the day,
The clouds blush pink,
The sun shines high.

Thanks everyone for reading!


Monday, 6 June 2011

The Fire of Friendship

Hi all!!!¡¡¡!!!

I have written a new poem which I hope you all will enjoy reading. There are two ways of enterpreting this poem, depending on your definition of 'cleave'.


Around the fire eyes light up,
The flicker reflected 'thousand times,
As fire leaps and dives, pent up,
The figures come portrayed within these rhymes.

The flames begin to fall and stumble,
As the figures rise and leave,
Those remaining turn and mumble,
Friendship bonds are torn and cleaved.

The fire though can be reborn,
From embers left quite unextinguished,
Though outsiders laugh with scorn,
Our friendship stays strong, undiminished.

Thank you everyone and I hope to see all of you writing yourselves.


Sunday, 5 June 2011

The First of the Great Poems

Hi all!!!

This is the first poem of the blog, written by an incredible poet who on this occasion wished to remain nameless.


I have fallen.
It was such a long way down.
I reached up for your hand
But you pulled away
I looked up at you as I tumbled down
Your face was smooth as glass.

Your eyes watched me with no remorse
You knew it was right to let me go
I was no good, a weed among flowers.
I had to go.

Upon the hard ground I landed.
A thorn pierced my foolish heart,
It’s pain barely dulled the ache already there.
And though I tried I could not get it out.

The years went by and I grew old
Haunted by love of the few
Who’s very lives had sparked with in me a dream
That could never be.

Surrounded by cats, the only beasts
who cared to give me affection,
I still can feel that thorn in my heart
Taunting me of what I longed for.

Fire flickered around me ,feeding
on the humble shack I had found for myself.
It’s burning heat ate my home
And licked at me to get it’s feel.

My cats deserted me and I am glad.
Poor as my love is, I gave it to them
And desire to see them live.
But as for me, in my homely gown
I give myself to the flame, glad to end it.

I think that this deserves a round of applause. Well done, anonymous poet!!!