Tuesday, June 16, 2009

6.16.09 ~ CMpart91-sg~W1.jpg


* * * * *
The satin wearies in its stains,
the nights and years in stunning pains,
the seeping wounds so vivid red,
residing in the aura'd bed,
the stories circle on through time
exploring layers, rampant rhyme
this episodic vein of trails,
the stunning, sad and epic tales,
the legacy the breath would leave,
a heart still clinging to the sleeve,
a valentine, a wishful pose,
yet on and on the story goes,
still etching to the frosty glaze
that settles over all the days,
and in the dance, the stillness tells
the ways, the thickets and the hells,
a memory, a shadow there,
echoing all cold and bare,
so lonely in the thorns of night,
they scratch and tickle, edging light,
it seeps across the graying hues
so quickly there to save the cues,
a story dawning ever told,
it lies amid the seeping cold,
so ever there and ever bold,
but in the stunning still parade,
the imprints that the heartbeats made,
the mystery still magic to
the shades and ventures long and true,
plunging from a hazy view,
their essence in some amber stand,
it rises, shines across the land,
the pebbles twinkling ever bright,
the green and purple clear and light,
the castles ever in the glass,
the dew reflecting in the grass,
the tales my mother told to me
they ever always seem to be
a pledge, a warning, there a way
to lead me to a better day,
to magic lands, to placid grains,
ameliorating wounded stains,
and maybe islands there to be,
perhaps, a safety place for me.
© 2009 JM Shephard ~ JOY in the arts!

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