The Crave for Darkness

A flash of the past in stone forged,

her cold eye hosts a graveyard crow.

Midnight breezes in silk dresses emerged,

serenading a deadly lover of woe.

Dolls charm the bedroom velvet,

in the dark palace of her hypnotic notes.

Withering roses and a cat tortured quill,

in belladonna bled her but last will.

The grand requiem of an unborn deceased,

who would sleep in a coffin diseased?

Sickened thoughts the most artful draperies,

of a spirit freer than a wasteland of souls.

Advertisements
Published in: on 19/08/2015 at 9:42 PM  Leave a Comment  

Serenade Melancholia

The past has been sealed,

in the stained land of melancholy.

How long since I last heard thee,

yet how your music again engulfs me!

Dared I not to intrude your grace,

for the fear of my amethyst heart.

Yet here I am enclosed by your dream,

on this earth I live, in the heavens I chart.

Alone the poet in his midnight blue, 

raining crystal bells on a weeping stream.

Dispirited streetlight a friend in the snow,

walking the pages of the idiot’s woe.

Folding waves of ballroom visits,

his majestical figure cannot be embraced.

Serenade Melancholia of lifeless tears,

a darkened fireplace in the ethereal cold. 

Published in: on 13/08/2015 at 4:04 PM  Leave a Comment