Tuesday, 26 February 2013

Fastenings and thick strings

Fastenings and thick strings

Daintily her feet hang down, that trademark
Serene smile playing across her ruby lips.
Roughly they lace her, clean and white: pure, they call her, pure as the 
Virgin dew on the farthest mountains on the night of eclipse.

Her eyes flutter, she tries to catch her breath in vain, she is dead.

Ravenous she awakes from her grave, Poised even in her
Fury, her golden locks like forest fire fly untamed
Her bindings tattered, the claws of her feet clutch the ground firmly
In vengeance, she revolves to strike down, them who shall be unnamed.

Demurely she sits, casting her eyes down at the ends of her silken 
Heavy gown. A pretty doll she is, they agree appreciatively.
She can only listen while they bind her with painful spasms. None too bright, they call her.
Best leave her affairs in our able hands, they cry, clucking their tongues in feigned sympathy.

She rolls down the stairs, tripping from the agony of her burdens, she is dead.

In her dreams she is reborn, spitting fire from the tunnels of her eyes;
Seething with rage she charges at them, devours all in vicinity.
The earth around her darkens, damp with the filthy red of their blood;
That drips from her fingers as she smiles at her peaceful atrocity.

Quietly she sobs, her eyes shimmering with the tears that
They frown upon and disregard completely.
Submissive, they call her, their grip tightening on the reins only she can feel.
We have moulded her well, her nectar is drawn, they cackle gleefully.

The reins choke her, she stutters, she is dead.

On a cloudless dawn she falls back to sleep, her vow fulfilled, breathtaking in the
Intoxicating fumes of her newfound freedom.

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Friday, 8 February 2013

Of Rain And Reunion.

Of Rain And Reunion

Like the still on every porch of a deserted town 
That was lost in battle.
Like the flutters of the shriveled sand in a desert
Where the wind once rattled.

Frozen lay the leaves, the hint of a shiver 
Running down their weakened spines in anticipation.
Inky skies tease them with their billows of hair of clouds
Which murmur in appreciation.

By her window she sits, dazed from the picturesque
Memories that keep her alive.
Clammy hands knot together and salty water glistens
On the lackluster roses that once thrived;

In the intricate spring of their love.
Hopes and fresh moisture.

And then, rain.

The immaculate, crystalline orbs rush down,
Expelled from the sky by giant catapults.
Gratefully, they kiss their beloved leaves and
Embrace their long lost strands of grass, and build;
Up a melody so beautiful as they shatter, on
Old brick walls, forests and fragile ferns;
They mingle with the tears of unhappy lovers and;
Dance across the upturned faces of the happy ones.

And there he stands resplendent,
Silhouetted against the endless voids of night.
In sweet frenzy, barefoot she runs, from chaos into the perfection of his arms,
Over the trot of the rain he whispers against her delight;
Of the promises he had made, as the final remains of raindrops
Shimmered on their faces and on petals of forgotten flowers.
That he'd return when the leaves would reunite with the rain that they clamor for
On the fateful night of the year's first showers.