scribblesnbits – Page 11 – Scribbles 'n Bits

The Midnight Rose

A rose in the garden 
 
 grows ever sweeter. 

 Lovely white petals 

 soften a thorny demeanor. 

 Though twinkling between twilights 

its pale beauty casts gloom; 

 a baneful silk shadow 

 by light of the moon. 

 Safe in the small hours, 

 but deadly at dawn: 

 the buds draw in, 

 the thorns begin to yawn. 

 If stung in the light 

 there's no time to feel sick. 

 The petals glow red 

 as blood from the prick. 

 Forget your family, your life, and your friends. 

 Off to a new garden 

 you roam to make amends. 

 To his mistress, the moon, 

 the rose does take. 

 Another stranger - a sacrifice - 

for his mistake. 

 You won't wonder or think. 

 Your mind has gone. 

 As you lie and wait 

 for the last light has shone. 

 When daylight has faded; 

 now covered in dirt. 

 You twist and tangle 

 as stems with white flowers, 

 from your skin, 

begin to spurt.

The Perfect

Who is she
and where?
His Clementine 
whispering in his ear.
Anytime there's no one near.
Who picks flowers for herself,
lighting candles for the night.
He turns to see her pretty face.
Either she is quick to react
or,
in reality, has no place.

Once Again

I grow dizzy
with all the flames I've burned,
with all the times
this new leaf has turned.
Waste my dreams
as morning burns into view, 
a painful reminder
I wake without you.
Look over the ocean
at all the fish swimming free;
a lonely sailor 
caught by the sea.

Glance

Around and around
the red blue mind. 
Thoughts creep and whisper
in thin grey lines. 
Music to ears 
as silence to sleeping.
Deposit in years,
a warm heart beating.
Ask me now, 
where I have been.
I answer by staring
in low dull hymn.

On belay?

Feats of my burden 
feed on desire. 
All left to leaving 
where twin peaks aspire. 
Wind through your day 
like vines through the grama.  
Painted in plastic 
like carving a comma.  
Dreams left to dreaming 
never climb higher. 
That's where I keep them:  
the subtle belier.

The Artist of Pithewa Peak

A man who paints memories 
gave me one to take. 
Gift wrapped from you it said, 
"Give your mind a rest
and keep your heart awake."
I see him paint there still, 
where the sun stains the forest skin.
I will never forget that day - 
the closest to you I have ever been.