[x]

Under a Witches SkyAnd lo there he said: "I am darkness rising"
— ‘an apparition bleeding into a dreaming sky
Distilled in the timbre of windswept voices,
black feathers enchant earth in fevered-song
Magick ebbs & shimmers thru earthen veins,
seething like a migration of hungry wolves
Silvery eyes peer, drinking the ether of souls;
watching the spirit world fold into the mists
And where Shadows and Witches conjure,
— myriad talons beshrew Winter’s prayer

For eons I hath wandered in forgotten lore
— a sleep walker thru ash & fire, hunting ..
Beneath Moon solemn and drifting,
I covet thy ghostly figure velvet, undressing
Pools of

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

Dandelion QueenI dream of the ocean;
that paper-thin line where
the current swallows the stars
and the water churns violet

(you tell me to be
quiet,

dandelion queen, we've
heard all these words before)

tonight
I will sleep heavy
and wake a few hours before dawn,
only to forget my name

my wave-weathered heart will cry,
I will cry (my biggest fear
is drowning in too many
of my own weighted words

you tell me to be
quiet
so I can hear the world breathe)

I want to go home

the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav

Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.

He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint

WindowsHere am I, repeated,
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.

I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze

like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.

Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;

safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.

Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high

above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.

I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devo

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.

Pull Her Hair/Stare At The StarsThe ghosts have crashed their ship
on the other side of town,
you can see it from the second floor
all the way over here.
You can see the white clouds
rising from the wreck
and a nova of heat, a big bright
nova of warmth pulling the moths and wolves
out from the woods (with their noses up and searching).
You can smell the yearning like bees
leaving the hive, like the grizzly brown bears
on the jagged white mountains (concrete and imposing).
They call it fear,
but I see these ghosts
scrambling up into the sky
and I like to think it's
something different entirely.

Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?

SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.

Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain

A Night By the FireNo light,
The light sired by the night
All above whilst the day's delights
Now disappears from mortal sight.

Faded away is the sun's power,
Taking the stage now is night's sallow flower;
Now mortals may behold the stars and falling shower.

Set in a pit Nature's skyscraper ablaze
And revel in the emanating heat as you gaze,
Looking down on occasion when you hear a crack from the fire
And witness "fireflies" flying away from mother's blaze;
Dying shortly after but not lacking burning beauty do they desire!

I look out towards the teasing shore
And meditate as we sit upon her door,
Thinking on what my future has in store;
Who I am now and even

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four wallsI know these four walls
I built them.

I know these four walls
Know these ancient blood stains
The blood was mine.

I know these four walls
Know the smooth parts
Washed by a thousand tears
The tears were mine.

I know these four walls.

I know these four walls
Know the false comfort
Know the deceptive peace
Once found inside.

I know these four walls
Know the pain they lock inside
The pain they breed.

I know these four walls
I built them.

Set me free.

Cant ForgetIt's not the being alone
It's the lonliness
That eats my soul when I'm away from you.
It's not the place I'm at
It's the emptyness
That makes me do the thing I do.
You'll never know how much I need you.

I'll work 'till the day is through
To keep you from my mind.
No matter what I do
I think of you.
Remember how kisses feel
Remember hands on my skin.
I try but cant forget
In my mind you're there.

It's not the being alone
It's the lonliness
That eats my soul when I'm away from you.
It's not the place I'm at
It's the emptyness
That makes me do the thing I do.
You'll never know how much I need you.

I'll run 'till I fall

Mirror GirlWho are you, mirror girl?
Why are you there, where my face should be?
When I move, you move, so you must be me
But I don't understand how this could be.
Since when have I grown so tall?
My lips are supposed to be more small
And breasts, I shouldn't have them at all.
Since when did I get wrinkles
On my forehead, 'round my eyes?
I don't know when I got broad shoulders
And muscles on my arms.
Where was I while I grew up?
Who stole my childhood from me?
Who are you, mirror girl?
Why are you there where my face should be?

Prisoner version 2I miss the air…
I miss the tempest sandstorm
And the choking desert dust
I miss the thunderclouded sky
Miss the cool night breezes
Flowing cross my face
Beneath the stars

I long for stars,
Sparkling in the dark sky
The radiant moon,
Growing, living, dying
Always changing, always same
I'd die happy
If I could see it all once more

I beg you let me one more time
Swim in a river that runs free

Please let me play in the ocean sand
I beg once more

Let the sun shine on my withered frame
Let my ears hear the sound of a living thing
Let me taste a wild fruit that no farmer grew

Don't let me die in this darkened cell alone!

Bu

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The What-if's

by ~Panther-Nora, Apr 12, 2004, 4:53:03 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

What if…
What if…
What if…
What if…
What if I…
What if I’m…
What would I do if I...
What would you do if we…
What should I do?
For me
For you
For ours?
What if I’m…
What if I…
What if…
What if…
What if…

The What-if'sby ~Panther-Nora

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

The What-if's in life always scare me, but they seem much worse today.

~Raphaella Aug 18, 2005

The repeation creates an echo in my mind, and the broken/unfinished lines sound great when you say them in your head. I think the reader almost says them instead of reads them (I did). Interesting work here.

~Panther-Nora Sep 3, 2005

I'm glad you think so. Thank you for stopping by.

~arlis Apr 19, 2004

Oooh...dat's cool. I really likey! ^-^
Have ya read the one by Shel Silverstein? I think it's called "The What-If's" as well. It's funneh.

~Panther-Nora Apr 19, 2004

Yeah, I have read shel silversteins What if poem. It's pretty cool.

~SecretAgent-loverman Apr 13, 2004 Photographer

Perfect. The very idea is perfect, and yes those are horrible with a slight dash of evil. I hate em just as you put~

~Panther-Nora Apr 14, 2004

Yeah, that's why I wrote the poem. Thank you for your nice comment.

~Kriasai Apr 12, 2004

"What if"s are evil, evil I tell ya! I spend a lot of time in my life worrying. Seriously. Especially about my family.

~Panther-Nora Apr 13, 2004

yeah... evil what-if's. (stabs them in the eye with a fork

) sorry, I'm feeling somewhat violent today.

*Melanophrionsa Apr 12, 2004

What ifs--- (shivers)

Hate thinking of "What if"'s.

~Panther-Nora Apr 12, 2004

Yeah, me too.

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The What-if's

The What-if'sby ~Panther-Nora

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