Poetry 4

Poetry 4

Debbie Wilk

Distant winds chime across the land,

Evening stars shine within the moon’s shadow,

Before the new day, he will wake within midnight’s glow

Beauty from within her heart and soul will be flourishing,

In midnight’s enchantment, all angels gather in symphonic harmony,

Enriching captured beauty, to be returned to her.

With morning’s first light she will wake,

In her garden, he will be standing with waking roses,

Little drops of dew sparkling as they part the delicate petals,

Kidnaps her attention, perhaps she will now see, it is her own beauty seen.

© Steve Gillespie

She's Beautifully Broken

She catches her reflection
In the dirty glass.
Touching the image,
She longs to ask,

What happened to the child
She knew long ago?
The eyes that stare back
Belong to no one she knows.

She thinks of the girl who
Used to dance in the rain,
Before the world reared its head
And dealt her this pain.

Shards of her sad life
Scatter around her feet.
She has been badly wounded
By all those she meets.

A heart swollen with sorrow,
A soul shackled in grief.
Her life is a waste.
This she truly believes.

Yet still she goes on,
All her pain she must hide.
A perfect vision to all, but
Beautifully broken inside.

© Debbie Wilk

She Purrs

Her sleek, supple body glistens
In the radiance of the moonlight.
Her claws, used to gouge flesh,
Not in fury or wrath; but in passion,
Have now been retracted, sheathed.

The light of a million heavenly stars,
Radiates from the depths of her eyes.
Those eyes – the centre, the core,
The soul of her very existence.
To stare into them is to drown willingly.

Like a lioness fresh from the hunt,
She stretches her long, lithe limbs.
The curve of her perfect breasts,
Barely visible in the scant light,
Nevertheless strikes a stunning pose.

Like the goddess Bast, she turns to me
And smiles a wicked, feral smile.
And for the briefest moment I feel
As if I am about to be devoured.
Instead, she closes those eyes and sleeps.

Satisfied,
She purrs.

Lost Souls

Soft, bare feet on a hardwood floor.
She waits by the stairs, her eyes on the door.
Her husband sailed away that previous dawn.
The sweet melody of birds was his farewell song.
A gossamer sheath billows around her form.
A loud thunderous crash announces the storm.

Darkness descends on an endless ocean.
The ship starts to pitch with a fevered motion.
Huge, angry waves crash onto the deck.
He falls to his knees, almost breaking his neck.
Desperately he tries to secure the moorings.
The storm has blown in without any warning.

At once a feeling hits her, a feeling so strong.
In the pit of her soul, she knows something is wrong.
Tears fall down her cheeks, with fear she is wrought.
No one could survive this hellish onslaught.
But a flicker of hope deep down still resides.
She will wait for her lover, sheltered inside.

The thought of his wife has got him this far.
Tho' this raging black tempest wants to tear him apart.
He loosens his grip, he can't hold on any longer.
In this battle, it's not him, but the sea who is stronger.
One final wave crashes over his head.
The salty sea fills his lungs, he is finally dead.

She still waits on the stairs and still wears that same gown.
Her face is still lined with that same worried frown.
But still in her heart, she knows there's a chance,
He will open that door and ask her to dance.
It seems these poor lovers have been dealt a cruel fate.
Her sentence in death is forever to wait.

He still travels the waters, sailing both far and wide,
One hand at the helm, the other clenched 'round his bride.
Forever he will, til the sun fails to burn,
For he promised his beloved, someday he'll return.
He knows that she loves him with all of her heart,
But even in death they were destined to part.

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