You're not so far away That I can't reach and grasp With invisible hands I filter through your mind Lifting, separating Diamond dust feelings Spark-soaked Radiant thoughts My fingers drenched with light Consuming my body With brightness I feel you Crushed crystalline rapture
Carriages knock atop the cobblestone Mist rouses and horse manes wave like banners The coach riders know I journey alone They peer, passing gothic statues and lanterns And as melodic hooves march on their way The dark speaks, befallen starless display, "Come home, Carpathia ... stay This night, Carpathia ... stay."
Black horizons drape the October field Streets are mazes where the candlelight shies Shutters slumber closed and doorways are chilled Where night birds perch, rocking prophetic eyes And as the birds take flight to find the moon He calls from lost depths of the darkly noon, "Come home, Carpathia ... soon This night, Carpathia ... soon."
A wisp floats to the hallways of sticks in fragrant burn Sublime elixir swirls every chalice turn The velvet room glows, the chamber flickers rhapsody Crystal patterns dip fire and circle restlessly
Silvern shapes line in rows with herbal, ageless define Avadon kneads a cat's claw and stretches blackest shine Time of twisting labyrinths unravel for to see The witching hour fixate on all that truly be
Before the morning cradle the nightfall will allow Some glimpse of random thoughts, some creation coming out And journals will be penned with hands amazed to roam When voices of mood echo through the catacomb
Fairly a rustle but of pen to paper Some lyrics Some melodic strokes Interrupting the silence Slit of the curtains As sporadic lights Pulse Splitting shadowy corners Frosted glass ... a sigh's exhale And the hours pass by Edge of the night Edge of the pages Turning
The tawny will soon come But for now Time still slowly revolves Through stardust
I dreamt of Midnight turning to the thirteenth hour. I dreamt of thirteen candles and thirteen, black flowers. I walked past thirteen windows and entered the thirteenth hall, Where a calendar, marked thirteen, suspended the wall.
Thirteen black cats perched on thirteen, high, wooden rafters. They taunted prowling wolves with their slow, purring laughter. Thirteen footsteps, I took, to consider this story. The view was surreal with all its fictional glory. But on this thirteenth slumber of the thirteenth, same dream, Some sanely truth was offered from the madness that seem.
I heard a clock chime with thirteen, long, lingering bells And I envied this theme with its corridors of spells. Onward, I awoke to the reality of dawn And the peculiar kingdom of illusion was gone. I reckoned with each to decide the strangest of place And found that the factual and dream parallel pace.
We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;—
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
'Sentio Cor Meum - In Omne Tempus'
(from Beloved - Kay Irvin)
The Animal Rescue Site
- Teachers -
I fell in love with poetry as a child.
It's never left me.
It never will.
- A Dream Within A Dream -
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
~ Edgar Allan Poe
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening -
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
~ Robert Frost
- She Walks in Beauty -
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
~ Lord Byron
- Song in Ella -
Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing,
To the nightmares as they go.
~ Thomas Chatterton
- Romeo and Juliet - [Act 3, Scene 2] -
Give me my Romeo.
And when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
~ William Shakespeare
- Because I could not stop for Death -
Because I could not stop for Death--
He kindly stopped for me--
The Carriage held but just Ourselves--
~ Emily Dickinson
- Hymn to the Night -
I heard the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep through her marble halls!
I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light
From the celestial walls!
I felt her presence, by its spell of might,
Stoop o'er me from above;
The calm, majestic presence of the Night,
As of the one I love.
~ Henry Wordsworth Longfellow
- Desire -
Where true Love burns
Desire is Love’s pure flame;
It is the reflex of our earthly frame,
That takes its meaning from the nobler part,
And but translates the language of the heart.
~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge
- How Do I Love Thee? -
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,
I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!
and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning
- November Night -
Listen . . .
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
~ Adelaide Crapsey
- The Tyger -
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
~ William Blake