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I WANT TO BE A UNICORNSome say they want to see a unicorn and see the magic that be,
but I want to be a unicorn and be the unfurling magic I see,
an innocent child of nature, my lunar goodness I will reflect
in every rippling current my horn annoints, evil I will deflect
far from me and those who believe in the power of a pure heart
I will come to them, brightening their shade with my mythic art.

I want to be a unicorn and be the magic that is me,
goodness spiraling outward from my being others will see
-and the gentle wisdom reflected in my new moon eyes,
I will live my life with a pure heart sweet and silvery-dyed
by the enchantment spun by the forest

BY THE ASPHODELS...The Night disorders my mind, dusting my grief
with the sweet recall of her relief, dowsing
my heat with an inner snowfall, I let myself
drift into the shiny sounds of Silence-and
inhale my tears from following me home again,
the rain is all I feel against my misused body
disordered too much by Misery's tearful glaze,
but the Asphodels know what I wish to forget
and they windmill the rain to covet the blue
from my shade...I am bare but not barren...

My heart is all I have to call my own, teary
stained it remembers what I wish to forget,
but the Asphodels won't let me drink from Lethe
so these ghosts I must befriend as they follow

SUMMER MAGIC...Moonbeams graze my cheek with their silken swirl,
disrobing the dark in my eyes with a silver heat
that attracts to me damask moths and obsidian
butterflies, from my balcony I watch amber and
amethyst lend their accent to the Sky, leading
astray mysteries that Time had forgotten the names
of their hues, I watch dreams unfurl from chimneys,
studding Summer with their star anise symmetry
as they question why I make the Day my slumberbed,
instead I comb the Night for a sinew of inspiration
that won't melt away-like ice cream sugaring the
lush ember grass, the air is incensed with lilac
as Dusk fans through my stiletto lashes her stil

MY POET'S BLOODSHEDIn the Night I flay the skin off my soul
with the bloody end of my faithful quill,
the explosion of my emotion sharpens my skill
into another poetic bloodshed, again I cannot
sleep-I can hardly stand under the weight
of my tears resurrecting another memory from
my body's misused tissue, my heart oh please
don't break before another poem I bleed onto
this virgin paper, pale and cold it waits...
waiting for my sorrow to dismantle my treasury
of Hurt into multi-jeweled words for people
to read and appreciate their bloodshed splendor,
freshly plucked from my flesh, I gouge out my
eyes and fill their sightless sockets with
Innocence

GHOST TOWNI'm a ghost town, full of permeable secrets
and the scent of spirits and spectres that
smudge my soul with the ink of past memories,
I live where no postage stamp can stick to my
address, nameless and dateless under the handmade
light that streams from passing midnight trains,
I haunt like old postcards written by fingers
that have not forgotten how to crochet pockets
into my soul, pockets where memories pile high
like pastries, I can still taste them organic
on my tongue, sweet buttercream and tea filtering
through sunset silhouettes, from almost too
clear cups I drink in their clandestine color,
heating my ghost town self with

LIVING WITH FEARFear trips across the nervous wires that
crisscross through my body, haunting these
hallways that have grown accustomed to
the static of adrenaline burning, constantly
burning the dissembodied echo of my steps
as I try each door-but Fear has bolted them
tightly shut, my lonely torchlight flickers
"oh please don't go out" I pray in the
Darkness as the detonations of panic ignite
in my chest, Fear has slowed my syllables
into an incomprehensible stutter, the silver
lining has slipped away from my tongue and
my eyes swell with tears, Fear has stolen
the brine from my bones, bolting me ajar
as butterflies fill the hollow in my belly,
I feel them

TO STOKE A MIDNIGHT FLAME...Tenderly flourishing, my mind relapses
in thoughts of you, stretching and yawning
with the curve of morning light across
my slow arise, my memory blushes and I
scorn the dust from settling over my bones,
the steam from my tea curls truer images
from the Silence I brew, sipping teacup moments
I recall how I used to think you were the
epitome I wish to reach-the epiphany of
my every Desire I couldn't breach, but I'm
tired of cloaking you in verse and casting
aside my tears for one who was not worthy
of their felled flourish.

I wish I could think of you and smile fondly
as that old familiar feeling rushes down the
trellis of my bo

MOCHA IMPRESSIONSIn a quiet corner of the coffee shop I sit,
trying to lodge my daydreams with the mocha
impressions that swirl over my tongue, I come
here to escape the frantic murmurings and
pulsebeats of an impatient city, hoping to
find the patience I know is waiting for me
when my cup deliciously moors itself against
my lips, I am a spectre scribe, haunting the
cafe in that blessed hour before the Dawn
recalls me home again, but my heart seethes
to abstain from normalsy and indulge in the
intricasies of who I am, even when a superstitious
storm tries to pry apart the fingers of Faith
from my autumnal soul, it is here I drift to
my refuge w

SHRAPNEL MEMORIESMemories whittle themselves into bookmarks
when I disturb the dust that gathers over them,
between Dusk and Dawn I condemn my heart
to carve itself open, sprawling my feelings
like a ragdoll on an unmade bed no longer
concealing her need to be whole, silently
I creep like some homeless stray down the
alleyways of remembering, I try not to let
this hellcat sink its claws too deeply into
my story, but I can hear the hiss of these
memories and feel the sharpness of the
shrapnel they have embedded into my blueprint,
even Time cannot dull their arsenol that
has me bleeding a million shades of scarlet,
staring holes into the Night wh

MUSES OF MOONLIGHTAs the Night navigates by the cobwebs and ivy,
and the shadows blanket my still glowing nude,
I hear the dew that cling to my dreams, shimmering
with the fragrant gauzy buzz of cicada wings,
the Stars my pillow-they cushion my narrow slice
of reality so I may wander wild among the tangled
growth-where every unfurling leaf catches a poem
and legends linger in the corners of Moonbeams,
unsettling the dust from the shadows so I can dream
continuously, a perfect repose of chameleon mood
eclipses me as I skewer my heart with my quill,
writing out my last bloodbeat I dedicate it
to those Muses of Moonlight I navigate by...

May 29, 2012

RESURRECTIONEven though it may seem I am a Vestal,
my core tightly coiled around the galaxy spinning
inside, shrinking my horizon into tiny pinholes
of light so I can still see the Sky, in slow steady
downpours thoughts of you invade my territory and
disturb the dust from settling over your memory,
so often I dig you up that the worms must miss you
until I bury you for the thousandth time again,
I should have set up sentinels along the borders
of my mind, ready to banish you from my alleyways,
ready to exile you from infiltrating the fog that
permeates my thoughts, how dare you invade my terrain!

You are not worthy to cast your shadow
on my horizon and

GECKO LADYWhen Time has stolen the blush from my bloom
and my skin has withered into creased crinoline,
I'll be the loony gecko lady people gossip about
when they see me-climbing a tree so I can catch
a stray beam of sun in my teeth-or basking at
Midnight-soaking up a shot of lunar brilliance,
I will dwell in a room concocted from the stuff
of poesy and live off of chocolate seashells,
I will be the neighbourhood eccentric who
shuns people and is only gregarious with geckos,
who never wears panties or carries an umbrella
and howls at the Moon-even when she's sleeping
at the break of noon, I will laugh for no reason
in the elevator and never dust for fe

WEEPING WILLOWMy heart leaps up beyond the wishing excursions
of Summer when I see you standing alone in the
solitude of your ancestor glade, with tender tears
you weep to the tempo of this land's rural architecture,
Weeping Willow, your beauty is a memory too green
to stay, too rare to last beyond this season's late
sensitive spurs, still your spirit is embalmed in
rustic strength as your ageless roots drink the
milk from Gaia's deep bosom, it rushes through you
-amber hot and amber cool-but as I look at you
content in your simple living I am left to wonder,
Weeping Willow, why does your sweeping leaves hang
down like tears, forsakened to this

SIREN'S SONGPassion pulls me under the waves, sweet
and strong, I crest these moonlit waters
as they lift me up, a song that captured
visions of this deep abyss I call my home,
I sing my madness in notes that spiral
outward from my halcyon throat, into the
silversapphire shimmer of a dream they float,
the Sea's sensual slide pulls me under again
as I sing of the beauty that eclipses my
pure heart, oh I dare not breathe through
my permeable eyes lest the Stars within drown.

I am haunted by a lifetime of loneliness
that gilds my voice, none can escape my
melodious lure-neither can I escape to the
shore of sanity when the Sea shimmers blue
in

CALL OF THE MERMAIDTwilight defuses my mind with color, carving me
open until my seadrift veins split apart like
the clouds vanilla and lavender, out leaks a sweet
peppery memory of when I laid on the beach and
glimpsed a village in the surf, around my neck
I wore a chain of Stars, they kept my Imagination
warm as I remembered basking on a pearly-shelled
beach, seaspray aquamarine glistened in my sunkissed
tresses, the minutes were sand trickling through
the hourglass of Days, and my Days were a shimmering
shell that I held to my conch ear and listened
to the call of the Mermaid, pure as can be.

She came to me, laughter tickling open the oyster
she

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A BIRTHDAY WISH FOR NUTMEGLike birthday wishes softly crackling,
candles burn through the nocturnal layers
of my home, rich red and purple veins
crisscross beneath my skin, tonight my
memory evaporates in a conversation of
color that I furnish with pen on paper,
sweetened by velvety thoughts of Nutmeg
for it's her birthday, two years has
she encircled me with her sticky feet
and gecko leaps and her red dalmatian
decor, two years has she left behind
her little footprints, delicate as the
rinsing out of graffiti from my heart,
my days have been gladdened by her
salt-and-spice recognition, my life
has been carved open by her reptile
religion, and love is

I LOVE EGGNOGI love eggnog, rich and thick and creamy-smooth,
it's flavor bursts inside me whether I dust it
with nutmeg or candy cane shavings or spice it
up with a cinnamon stick, it soothes my nerves,
it comforts me when Winter roams like a wanton
wildcat outside of the frosty lace of my window,
eggnog's holiday goodness is my friend as it
glides down the receiving curve of my throat
and into my body that it warms up like a hug on
the inside, eggnog is my companion on Thanksgiving
and Yule, the holidays I spend in solitary union,
but I am not so alone that I have no comfort, no
thickening warmth, I have my eggnog that is my
faithful friend

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A MURDER OF INNOCENCE

by ~NocturneJewel, May 29, 2012, 8:53:27 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

I thought I heard it, a cry torn from an
innocent throat, the Night's luminous fringe
was blemished by the wicked sounds of cruelty
cannibalizing the innocent, broken cries
pitching high pain and fear were all she had
to give as her life was raped by a monster,
cold and cowardly he cloaked his cruel crime
in shadow, this innocent's light soon flickered
as another blow left her broken, her innocence
raped, a soul purely bled died this Night...
and the Silence that followed was so chilling
and final...and I cried as I heard this murder
of innocence, I cried for she who no longer cried.

May 29, 2012
© Jewel MoonSilver Knight - All Rights Reserved.

A MURDER OF INNOCENCEby ~NocturneJewel

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

A few nights ago I heard what sounded like a dog was being murdered...it was a warm night and when I was standing out on my balcony I could hear these loud crashes and bangs and a little dog yelping...it sounded it was being murdered. But I couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was coming from-this is a big apartment with lots of outside grounds surrounding it-so I didn't know what to do to help. And then soon all I heard was silence. I never knew that silence could be so cruel and final...and I cried.

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~scribblingnooly Jun 18, 2012 Professional

A harrowing poem..those little moments that impact so deeply. Cats and foxes can make pretty agonising cries when they are mating...sound like a baby screaming at times, maybe it was something like that?

~NocturneJewel Jun 18, 2012

I hope so...it would be better for me to think that it was something innocent like that for what I've heard...but at the time it just sounded like a dog was being beaten. I kept hearing loud crashes and then a dog yelping as if he was being thrown around...I hope it wasn't what I heard and there was some other explanation.

I have heard what sounds like a pack of wild coyotes or werewolves...I've never heard cats mating before but I've heard that it does sound like a baby crying.

~scribblingnooly Jun 19, 2012 Professional

I hear foxes in the night sometime...that can be a very strange and unsettling sound. I hope no one was mistreating an animal..karma has a way of balancing that..I love dogs, they are so loyal and unconditionally loving. How anyone can abuse that is beyond me.

~NocturneJewel Jun 20, 2012

Animals possess a soul of pure innocence, truth and trust and love. Only someone without a soul would abuse that...

I believe in Karma too. Karma will get them in the end...

~Avenvia Jun 15, 2012 Student Writer

I hope that the dog wasn't actually being murdered, and there was a perfectly innocent explanation for the noises you heard.

You really capture the feel of the noise against the sudden silence in this poem.

~NocturneJewel Jun 15, 2012

I hope so too. You never know in these buildings, there's a lot of creepy people around. That's why I don't socialize around here...I actually went outside of the building to see if I could see anything. But it was dark and I didn't think it was a good idea for me to wander in the dark and in the direction that I thought a crime had just taken place...

I'm glad you liked the poem.

~Avenvia Jun 16, 2012 Student Writer

I think you made the right choice there, even if it wasn't easy. It's a shame that you don't live in a nicer neighbourhood.

~NocturneJewel Jun 16, 2012

My neighborhood may not be the best, but I love how I've decorated my apartment. And people are amazed too, they feel such a sense of peace and soothing calm when they come over. (It must be from all the natural energy from the animals) And a pychic friend, the first time she came over she said she could see all these colorful lights floating around, and she said my home was filled with fairies and nature spirits. I've made my home a sanctuary from the outside world. I just wish all animals could live with people who loved them.