[x]

IN THE ROOTS OF WINTERIn the roots of Winter I walk, haunting her
sugarcane soul with the warm white of my inner
glow, the freshly clear air rejuvenates me
with the Purity that I must carefully maintain
in mittened hands, snowflakes fall from the
Sky's open arms and bead my brow ambrosia white,
I hear the muffled cake of snow underfoot,
settling over the Silence...fluttering pale
like pages torn free when Dusk browses through
the shadows that bandage my sorrow, my ruin
she fills with tea and poetry, a candle of Solitude
is all I carry to light my way through her miles of
frosty hue, but I'm not afraid of the gathering
Darkness or the icy evergreen tha

INFLICTIONInto the mirror I stare, I see imperfect reflections I try not to regret
but my clothes sigh away, dedicated scars raise up from my soul's select,
sadly, my fingertips follow their shape, some prickling from the soul
with vibrations I can feel, a receipt of strength to make me whole.

Slowly, I search for a glimpse of purity in the creases of Passion's skirt,
I cry a crusade of blood when I realize that I am the cause of my hurt,
under my scarred epidermis I am raw to the marrow with caffeinated lies,
not even morphine can numb the many confessions of my inflicted dyes.

Dreamily, tearfully, I seek bottles and blades to deaden me to thi

SLITHERS IN THE SANDWhen brassy Days overbrim your cup with strange clamor
can you feel me brush your cheek where many tears laid
their sorrow, can you hear the whispers of my ghostly enamor
as you weep for another memory never to fade?

When Nights skim the surface of your silent pleasures
my love is still there, a violet rarity few others have shared,
can you feel me with you, filling you with the treasure
of our piece of Eternity, can you feel my sighs in the air?

When Dawn fades to Dusk and in nocturnal hours you hide,
can you sense my lingering spirit and feel my embrace
cool against your heat, your candlelit writings I have spied,
do you know it'

SHIPWRECKEDEven on the driest of days I am wet,
you still scent my skin with stormy skies
and the rain that clings to your footsteps,
your eyes-a warm shower that melts the
frost from my horizon, your voice-a cloud
burst that fills my pores when sighs are
not enough, my thoughts are a mist that
drifts like a lost soliloquy onto your side
of the Sea, tenderly dissipating in the
rainy haze of every kiss, but your love
was more a trickle than a downpour, leaving
my phials half-dry with Desire, my waters
rising without my floodgates being released
to enjoy the fathoms of no regret...but
dew still clings to my petals and more
than a few drops

The Looking GlassI can see you
I can feel you
you're so close
so close,
Thankfully,
finally
you are fully formed
in my mind
and I can practically
reach out
and touch,
that smile
the tattoos on your skin,
so vivid,
all those witty remarks
ring in my ears
your voice is so clear,
finally
someone up there
decided to be kind...

And now I know you'll be with me
soon, without delay
I know that already
the events
are set in motion.

Do you know,
the way I see the world
is reflected
flawlessly through you,
broken
and pieced
back together,
so beautiful
so imperfect
and wonderful
striking
sharp, jagged edges
of reality
such fierc

THE SILENT SWANThe Sea's blue breathing womb gave birth
to all creatures, giving life to Silence,
speech to the Unconscious, sight to the
Blind, but something extraordinary also
emerged from out of the Sea's native waters
-a swan emerged, she was the most exquisite
and glorious bird that the Waters of Life
had ever birthed, her Beauty shone like
supple silver, so pure that it stole the
speech and sight of all worldly creatures
who gazed upon her singular greatness,
but this swan was born a mute, as mute
as unwritten paper, she had no halcyon
voice, she had no living note to sing.

She lived with her heart speaking from her
eyes-in her gracefu

INNER SANCTUMReflections crimson and cream-with some purple
musings too-I am the kiss that the Twilight leaves
to linger on my home's humble shingles, the many
halcyon sirens my soul spies stirs in me, a place
of vibrant reflection and resounding introspection,
where drowsy Sunsets sheathe themselves in the
prelude of Moontides, and the air I breathe colors
my inner sanctum with the visions only I can see,
scribbling people into existence with the amorous
virtues of my pen, goading me to write from the
shadows where I reside, libating indigo passages
with whispers of willful white, how could I not
love myself, every spider weave that catches m

THIS SIDE OF THE MOONOn this side of the Moon I exist, giving kisses
to your reflection I glimpse in the confectionary
rush of Night, but you don't see me so impending
wishes I fold beneath my skin with the Desire
skimming the surface of unrestrained storms,
oh how I wish I could fall into you like the
soft pelts of autumn rain that fall into me,
dilating my eyes with Starlight, in unstable
upheaval I sit on the brim of a lonely Star
with just a freckle of a dream making me weak
with longing, anticipating the weight of Sky
my thoughts are guided by the moonlit wash I see
streaming from your side of the Moon, and again
I wonder do you wish to pasteuri

PurifyIn a sink
Of bleach, bicarb and disinfectant
I add soap for the sake of it
In an attempt
To wash my hands of you;

It only burns my skin –
Red raw and peeling.
I wrap them in cling film
And black backed tape.

I pad like an alley cat
On the glass
Of stolen cars
And broken windows,
Though I'm not light enough
To avoid bleeding
And so leave
A trail behind me.

I'm mailing out my medical record
As much as my CV
While I wait
And take
My tattoos off
With a Stanley blade
To re-arrange them
Into another shape.

The Daily NewsThe Daily News.

Her mouth moved indifferently.
Unrealistic words seeped out.
I looked around overwhelmed by emotion.
A deathly silence breaches the living room.
Her eyes focussed on the eggshell white walls.
She continued to explain the situation.
My ears reluctantly accepted her unwarranted sounds.
My feet uncomfortably amuse the Egyptian rug.
Tears begin to formulate as the moment progresses.
My eyes uncontrollably confront her tolerant frame.
No words can soothe this disturbing atmosphere.
My expressive arms comfort this worrying warrior.

You hear about these scenarios every day.
But you never stop to think what if it comes

The Art of PerspectiveRight now my heart is crying out to me
Begging for some kind of release
Though I can't alleviate the pain
Perspective can help me find peace

Solace can be found amongst the chaos
There is a reason why I ache
I take comfort in the bottom line
The truth makes my core quake

Instead of choosing to fall to pieces
I'll rearrange my racing thoughts
And find my blessing in disguise
In the end I call the shots

My emotions sometimes make my choice
But in the end those are mine too
So I can choose how to interpret them
A breath of fresh air gets me through

This time I choose to inhale winds of change
To push on through my aching pain
A

This is How We BreakIn his youth
he saw through lies
choosing to see differently than others.

Later in life he closed those eyes
as a tired soul
might beckon one
to sleep.

On two feet
he slumbered by,
until being forced to awake,
opening those eyes
he didn't like what he saw

and this is how we break.

I imagine she must have loved him once.
He must have felt the same.
I doubt either
could tell you what happened.
Maybe now,
they're on the same page.

Not unlike the first ten years;
just a different page
one that didn't
involve rotating doors
before they were so quick
to leave.

BloodWounds mar your pride,
Trenches of unfathomable depth
Running straight across the floor of your soul,
Concealed under seemingly calm waters.
Opened again and again—
By the world,
By me……

By you.

Knives of doubt
Piercing words,
needles of frustration
pierce,
cut,
rend,
tear
DESTROY.

Words are far more powerful
Than tectonic motion.

If cannot quench your thirst for your own blood—
Is that my failing
or yours?
No one can fix you
against your
WILL.

I know I've hurt you.
But this deluge of blood
Was wrought by your own hand.
Enough blood
to paint your pictures with,
in livid crimson shapes.
To

RestartI will try to make this swift
We're moving as if in a lift
We're going down while we're locked
Inside the dark mind teller' trap
Best wishes come from the outside
Manning mankind out with pride
"Restart" it wildly screams from shadows
"Live it" then reply the widows
"Leave and go search for the meadows!"

"The moment we're at,
It will never come back"

"This moment in time,
Womb of the world bathed in pride"

"This moment of time
Coated in enlightened essence"

Forget it for I'm "Clubbed to Death"
I'm moving backwards in a world blinded by wealth
No example for the young, tremendous efforts for the old
Let it be, this world is c

BlackoutThe blackout took my clarity
And filled my heart with lead
Grim cognition troubles me
We let the virus spread

Connect the wire and you'll be fine
I promise it won't hurt too much
The screen lights up and then they dine
On the crop they tilled for years

A buzz of bliss, a mindless kiss
Deception won, a crack begun
Down my face, the smallest trace
Of ruptured rules and captured pawns
Please don't leave me unrepaired
Alone and scared, flawed soul bared
There is a pattern I need to find
There are ties we forgot to bind

Apathy is a soothing mist
That shields your heart in ice
They don't think twice, just make a list
Of feelings

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TEALITE MOMENTSNot quite dressed, almost naked,
I lay on my bed and imagine that
I am lying in the snow, surrounded
by pine needles and tealites and
the skin of past seasons, I watch
the light retreat and the shadows
creep like spider's legs, I am not
afraid in this moment tasting gold
on my skin, my Fear is dowsed by
Faith, my Doubt is replaced by Grace,
and as I lie here I am not alone-
Silence holds me-softly she covers
my almost nakedness in her sheerest
fabric-and I fall in love with her
all over again, I watch the crows
write letters in ebony and indigo
dyes, they fall from the Sky,
feathering my nest with premonitions,
I'll feed th

NIGHT FAERIESThrough the Night that never sleeps
we are there, a sweet taste of Belief
in the unbelievable blackness that
quilts the Sky, a kiss of consciousness
when you are no longer conscious of
the smoky hours-we are there sewing
wishes beneath your skin, guiding
your wings, guarding your broken
seams, we will walk with you through
the Night, touch our fingers to your
lips and leave behind a magical sip
of dew to lubricate your way through
the platonic Silence, and the storybook
philosophies that are only read among
the undone threads of a Twilight Sky
-bluegreypurple-we are with you, safe
from the folds of Day we slumber deep
-too de

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Submitted: March 9, 2012
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FORSAKENED-NEVER

by ~NocturneJewel, Mar 9, 2012, 5:13:16 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Daylight was never new to me, the hemline
of her hours was always too high, and I was
the dusky murmur that sought the shelter
of some nocturnal retreat, Daylight has never
been my friend, her Sun scorched my Silence
and rattled my Stillness, she was too proud
to follow my natural resonance so she banished
my eyes to the outskirts of reality-curtailing
the tempo of my possibility-while her highways
rushed with the exhaust of her artificial
relays, Daylight was never kind to me, her
rays blemished my blossom with too much cheery
Sun and not enough moony cascade, she could
never understand the magic I invoked from the
secret places that cast no shadow, the vivid
Darkness that resonated in my heartbeat was
more authentic than her noisy hours could
ever hope to be...while I waited for Dusk
to swallow me, gathering together my splayed
insides into a Night of renewable prose.

Daylight was never new to me, her hours
were dusty and stagnant, her light heavy
and hollow, I can never recall my breath
when her heat cloys my singular space-
but never the Truth that her illumination
has never been my friend, my strength
has never been comprehended by her and
she promised nothing to me but a desperate
congealing of Fear in my skylit veins,
I was too broken for her brothal light
to bleed, she just illuminated the cracks
in my soul as I waited for the Night to
conceal what I could never deny-my Pain
and Fear-my Truth and Hope-sustainable
in the Starlight streaming inside my
refuge of Darkness, for it's in the Night
I am never lost or forsakened, in the
Night I am never exhausted from inhaling
too much overheated reality, this soul
by Daylight-forsakened, by the Night-never.

December 10-11, 2011
© Jewel MoonSilver Knight - All Rights Reserved.

FORSAKENED-NEVERby ~NocturneJewel

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

I hate the daytime, it is always too bright and noisy for me...it is at night that I find myself and feel at home. For parts of the world the clocks are supposed to move ahead one hour this weekend-but not for me. Part of my eccentric nature is that I don't participate in Daylight Savings Time. My clock always stays the same all year so I can enjoy more of the night...I call this NocturneJewel's Time.

love 4 4

joy 3 3

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

*halcyonshores Apr 6, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

May the Night always deserve you and billow your oh so gifted wings and soul-spillings...

~NocturneJewel Apr 6, 2012

Thank-you for the very beautiful wish! And may the Night do the same for you too...

*halcyonshores Apr 7, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

*Mrs-Freestar-Bul Mar 15, 2012 Writer

You have a beautiful way to write your thoughts down. Amazing language you are using. I love this poem as well my dear

I hate daylight as well but only in the mornings, so I had to change the curtains to a dark color, now my bedroom is so dark in the mornings. Love it

~NocturneJewel Mar 16, 2012

Thank-you! I have dark black curtains as well, to keep out the sunlight! It's just too bright for me and my animals don't care for it much either. It's much better inside my apartment with black curtains.

I'm very happy that you liked the poem. May the night rule for poets and inspiration always!

*Mrs-Freestar-Bul Mar 16, 2012 Writer

Black curtains

Nice.
I get my inspiration mostly at night, I always write notes on my phone when I'm in bed

~NocturneJewel Mar 16, 2012

The night seems to be made for writing poetry!

*Mrs-Freestar-Bul Mar 17, 2012 Writer

Absolutely

*Wolfyone Mar 13, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Beautifully put. There is something magical about night. I applaud your decision to ignore daylight sayings time. I hate it myself.

~NocturneJewel Mar 13, 2012

Thank-you. People really know I live in another world when they come here and they see the time is different than when they arrived!

I'd rather have more night than more day...it's so much more magical and peaceful, perfect for poetry-writing.

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