Follow me, roamer,
and together we’ll touch
fortune’s fickle fingers and
the lips of the sky —
follow me, dreamer,
and no height is too much,
for no fears shall linger when
tomorrow we fly.
© 2015 Stellular Scribe
Tag: poetry
Sparkplug — an original poem
She was a sparkplug,
arms crossed, lips smug,
her roulette refined,
her fate stamped and signed —
diciest dame you’d ever find.
She was a renegade,
twisting tongues was her trade,
born with brass between her teeth,
a clockwork heart ticking beneath —
a queenly ace tucked up her sheath.
She was a sparkplug,
wayfarer whiskey was her drug,
with a corset pin
and a bottle of gin,
she redefined the depth of sin.
© 2015 Stellular Scribe
Traveler — an original poem
Restless is the wanderer,
inconstant are her itching feet
that cannot bide the ties of time
or ramble the well-travelled streets.
Nothing more than ‘fixed’ she fears,
and ‘settled’ stirs her skin with snakes —
adventure and the unknown steers
her into strange and thrilling stakes.
With each mountain matched and scaled
the lines across her map unravel,
for the wanderer can’t be nailed
in her life of constant travel.
© 2015 Stellular Scribe
Forsaken — an original poem
He was some forsaken singer,
rhymes lost, dead ringer
for that ol’ road-weary trope
of the dying antelope
that wonders, spilling strong,
why no one can hear his song.
He was some wrought-iron castaway,
steel-tamed yet fit for flay,
just a fat ol’ fish, hook in lip,
‘tween the old man’s knees, ’bout to slip,
wondering how the water could be
so cold above his cobalt sea.
He was some shriveled, paper poet,
mildewed months, wrinkles to show it,
resolved to ink sparrows into the sky,
to prove that words with wings could fly —
he wondered, tongue poised on the stars,
if time would ever stitch his scars.
© 2015 Stellular Scribe
I like the way — an original poem
I like the way your lashes curl.
They’re shy, they are,
but they’re hiding stars —
I like the way your smile unfurls.
Oh, how you think it curious
that one could write of lashes
or compare smiles to caches
(for yours hides treasure, you know).
But my words aren’t spurious,
though you don’t see that, do you?
my heart, it goes right through you
(I’d weep; nothing’s left to show).
Fathoming’s a feat of faith,
and faith’s a gift I demand from you.
Greed can grant me this one request —
my question naked: is it true?
Are you blind to understanding?
Or is my notion of it skewed?
How can you beat the one I love?
How can you lie and turn your face?
How can you hurt the one I love?
How can you treat her with disgrace?
How dare you beat the one I love.
How dare you try to dispose of
the lashes that curl
the ones I like
the pure-hearted girl
the smile I like
the untarnished pearl
the heart I like.
Love.
Because I like the way your lashes curl,
it’s selfish, I know, and I realize,
but I love the way your smile unfurls —
now if only you would open your eyes.
© 2015 Stellular Scribe
Solitary — an original poem
Solitary, somewhere
stark
solitary, somewhere
dark
solitary, I
embark.
Embittered by the blind
who see
resentful of the safe
who flee
unforgiving to the rich
who plea
offended by
hypocrisy.
Purpose I will chase,
I swear
meaning I will trace,
I dare
the truth I will embrace,
but where?
Solitary, somewhere
stark
solitary, somewhere
dark
solitary, I
embark.
© 2015 Stellular Scribe
Mage — an original poem
We who tread through endless night
and know the secrets of the earth,
we who bear the spirit light
and hold the threads of death and birth.
We who’ve touched the untold planes
and sang the songs of gods undone,
we who’ve mastered wind and rain
and forged great power from the sun.
We who conjure back from bleak
ancient hymns both blessed and tragic,
we who never cease to seek —
we who practice and preach magic.
© 2015 Stellular Scribe
My Arrow Is My Eye — an original poem
My arrow is my eye,
it looses with a sigh,
I follow it and know where it
will land before it flies.
Crunching armor, broken blades batter,
steel’s a charmer, it doesn’t matter —
a soldier’s game is rough and unrefined;
but an archer’s blow is dealt with her mind.
Once in the knee,
twice in the chest,
go for the throat
and your chances are best —
pick off the weak,
put down the frail,
mock the muscle
aim through the mail!
My arrow is my eye,
it glares across the sky,
I follow it and see through it
for the arrow, true, is I.
© 2015 Stellular Scribe
these worlds we unravel — an original poem
these worlds we unravel
between the sheets of our dreams
are mist on our skin
the peppermint air that we breathe
they taste like tomorrow
somewhere black cannot bleed
and I long to reach into
the worlds we unweave
almost touching infinity
but I can’t cut the strings
almost free from reality
but still the noose clings
these worlds we unravel
with fingers numb from the night
are words from our tale
from the story that we write
© 2015 Stellular Scribe
The Game — an original poem
white powder
red lips
fluttering capes
polished quips
sequined masks
silent smirks
chalky laughs
hidden dirks
whispers whetted
on pearls and pleasure
blades embedded
with careful measure
we dance and drink and dream of fame,
but, my dear, it’s a part of the game
© 2015 Stellular Scribe
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