wind

The Angelic Nymph

She ponders about angels and demons
How they've lived all these ages
And the reasons for all evils

In the forest she sings about simple things
Spellbound by the tidal waves of autumn leaves
Like the chain of thoughts in her head

A draft runs through her hair
Whispering words of wisdom
Lightly touching her hips
He tells her she is fair
Even nature loves this girl
Inside she feels she doesn't care

The moonlight caresses her skin
And moves to her pale pink lips
Tears fall as the lies slip
Her hands so delicate
She fears love with a heavy one

Solitude is her golden sin
She shelters herself 
With the wings of an angel 
Memories undress her
As she slowly dozes off


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Please comment :D

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Cardinal Directions

 

Birds chirp overhead, brightly colored things,

 

Fragile creatures with songs of summer in their throats.

 

Wind rustles the paper thin leaves overhead,

 

Leaves the color of blood and sunset,

 

Colors of winter with the smell of freshly turned Earth.

 

The hope of spring gives life through the chill of winter.

 

Wind caresses my frozen tears, delicate crystals upon

 

A pale, fragile cheek.

 

 

The Northern wind slices cold through my warm veins,

 

Stealing the breath from my lungs.

 

Time stands still, a fly caught in the spider's trap.

 

Icy breath caresses the shell of my ear.

 

The Northern wind speaks in a thousand tongues long turned to dust.

 

It speaks of home, forgotten and forbidden,

 

Of unspoken possibility, seven thousand strings of destiny,

 

Seven hundred forgotten paths.

 

The Northern wind speaks and falls silent once again.

 

 

The Eastern wind whispers, a sweet caress,

 

Tickles and delights, singing of Spring, of budding roses and cut grass.

 

A fragile lily opens in a crystalline winter, a delicate life so easily crushed.

 

The Eastern wind sings an unearthly melody,

 

A future woven in the web of Life and Death, of blood and darkness.

 

It speaks of a shadow, of an end to a fragile eternity.

 

The Eastern wind whispers and falls silent.

 

 

The Southern wind dances, a writhing caress against my eyelashes.

 

It lights a fire, a burning bush, a sign of faith and truth,

 

Blackened and sullied by the deception of humanity's imperfection.

 

The Southern wind paints the untarnished word spoken, the chaos of emotion.

 

There is no past in the South, no certainty of tomorrow, only the unending Now.

 

The Southern wind burns in to ash and falls silent.

 

 

The Western wind roars and howls, screams and whispers, demanding attention.

 

It flows like a river through the liquid spirit, the intangible essence that defines Humanity.

 

The Western wind wears through memory, such a worn thing.

 

Rain falls from the sky, washing away the gray and leaving only darkness.

 

The Western wind cries and falls silent once again.

 

 

Wind and rain, Earth and fire.

 

All fall to the devastation of chaos.

 

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Don't count the flowers..

in the darkest of hours, we count the flowers..

we blink our eyes, & in countless seconds, they wither & die..

even the fragrance slips away.. the petals dry out, & make that sad crunchy sound.. 

did someone forget to change the water in the vase..?

maybe they never should of been put into a bouqet.. 

 

scatter the remains across a green field, you get down & kneel..

looking off into the horizon, you pray.. 

God why, why couldn't they of been saved...? 

collapse into the grass, take a deep breath, at last..

your hands graze over the dead flowers, & clovers.. 

looking into the bleak sky, those eyes had nothing left to give..

so just cry.. this is the life you've lived.

no rain.. only clouds..

no light.. just that painful sound..

the wind caressing limp petals off the ground, to somewhere they can have inner peace.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

2.20.13

Xastur

Folder: 
Poetry

Xastur 

 

Hear ye the Voice of the Elder Xastur,

The mournful sigh of the vortex,

The mad rushing of the Ultimate Wind

Whom I call upon Aphoom-Zhah;

Swirling darkly among the silent stars.

 

Hear ye Him howling serpent-fanged

Amid the bowels of nether earth;

He whose ceaseless roaring

Fills the timeless skies of hidden Leng.

 

His might teareth the forests

And crushed the cities,

But none shall know the hand

Or the soul that destroys.

 

Faceless and foul walked

The Elder One,

In likeness of Nyarlathotep;

His form to men unknown.

 

Hear then His Voice in the dark,

Answer His call with thine own;

Bow ye and pray at His passing,

But speak not His name aloud.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about the Cthulhu Mythos deity Xastur (better known as Hastur).

When Death Feeds

Folder: 
Light and Dark

After the thunder

Comes the rain

After a blow

Comes the pain

After it’s done

Comes the shame

You shouldn’t have done it

Brother Cain

 

Did you not know

That death is hungry

Did you not know

It always needs

Did you not know

It’s never full

Didn’t you know

It eats him who feeds

 

Cursed are you

For killing your brother

Start life anew

Far from another

Marked is your forehead

So you’ll never forget

Your feet feel like lead

Death feeds on you yet

 

Why does the sky cry

When I’m crying

Why does the wind howl

As I’m dying

Why do the animals whimper

As I bleed

Why is it so cold

When death feeds?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The story of Cain, the first murderer, who killed his brother Abel out of jealosy. This is written as Cain's point of view from his death-bed many hundreds of years later.  Enjoy

View seraphim's Full Portfolio

Free as the wind (Ode to the native American Indian).

Oh how I wish
I could have set
the native American Indians free
with pride and dignity.

Taking them back across
the great open plains
to their sacred home
in lush green vallie's
where buffalo are plentiful
and roam.
To live in peace
at one with nature.
once more.

Setting their spirits
as free as the wind
wild untameable
like a magnificent
stallion on it's journey
home.

Peter Dome.copyright.2012.

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You Lose, Andrew

It's over now and the sun is out
And now there is a different view
Of what there was and what is left
From Mother Natures child, Andrew.

His birth was quite unwelcome
His screams heard through the night
To warn us all of what was to come
From his bark and from his bite.

As he moved his strength would push
The wind and rain to it's most
With total destruction in his heart
He trained his "Eye" upon the coast.

He was dead set in his mission
He knew exactly what he'd do
But we were only left to guess
What it'd be like he was through.

So we tried to prep ourselves
In the best ways that we can
Against a force of nature
That has no respect for man.

We boarded up the windows
And fled to higher ground
Knowing that when we returned
Maybe nothing would be found.

Just what things will Andrew take
If he fulfills our greatest fear?
Just the things we can replace
Or the loved ones we hold dear?

Well, his fury did take plenty
Both in property and lives
As he cut his way through cities
Like a million wheeled knives.

But even with all his power
There was a greater from above
That shined on all God's creatures
To protect them with his love.

For within his divine wisdom
He is the only one who knows
How to keep so many safe
From Andrew's angry blows.

Yes, Andrew paid his visit
And he did his nasty sin
But when he's gone forever
It's the people, their deeds
and God's love that will win.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was written and dedicated to all of those who gave their time, energy, goods and services to the hurricane relief efforts.
Augest 26, 1992

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My Gull

He sat there on the rock top,
his feathers ruffled in the wind,
a big gull enjoying life,
strong claws gripping.
A big wave washed in,
washed up and over the rock.
My gull lifted into the air
momentarily,
re-landed'
graceful, unperturbed.
He faced out to sea,
sunning himself between feeds.

Suddenly decisive
he lifted, rose.
With wings spread
he faced into the wind,
set off on another quest
for his favourite fish.
I watched him,
admiring as he dissolved
into the distance.
How wonderful to float
free and unhindered
across rolling waves
and salt spume,
enjoying life to the limit
through calm and fury!

Oh, for wings to fly free!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I love watching the gulls at the seaside.

View kiwi's Full Portfolio

Sweet Rose

Oh sweet rose
Was it the wind
Could it have been the rain
Why did you close

Did I not give you enough love perhaps
Or did I not feed you enough
Did I take too many naps
Was I too rough

Am I the reason
Or, was it your decision
Perhaps it was just the season
Our future was in my vision

I love you
I want to hate you
But what I really want to do
Is find out what killed you

How can I move on
Without knowing what I have done wrong
Who has ultimately won
You where my song

Speak
Say something!
Always knew you were weak
Is that you I hear sing

I am not broken
I’ve just awoken
To the sweet realisation
That I was but only a token

Oh sweet rose
Was it the wind
Could it have been the rain
Why did you close
Will you one day come back again……

 

 

Written by

Dlr

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