My Poems

Started by Muse, January 23, 2012, 04:44:28 PM

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Muse

Self-explanatory.

It is night
And the murk is closing in
And the moon shines
Like a celestial beacon
A ghostly face
That brightens the night
Is the moon not a
Bearer of light?
That heralds the comfort of
Illumination?

Pitted with dark tears
The man in the moon
Weeps into the midnight
Shroud that blankets the sky
For he is lonely in
The black plain that is his own
And he dwindles away
Bit by bit
Until all that remains is a tiny sliver
A sickle
The remains of a glorious
Golden light that
Flushed out the shadows
And then that
Last slice of pie is eaten
The last note is played
And the moon is gone
Vanished, without a
Final adieu.

But is all darkness and shadow?
Has the last night-sun vanished,
And are we left alone in the night?
No, for when the moon is eaten away
The stars
No longer upstaged by its mammoth glow
Come out to play






It is haunted
Don't let anyone tell you different
It is a shrine, you see,
An empty crustaceous shell of former glory
Where long-dead notes still linger
In the dry, dusty air
And, if you look closely,
You can see the flash
Of old, phantom cameras.
Because here, gods once walked
And their worshippers came by the thousands
To scream for and pray to
Their golden deities.

Those titanic Masters of their art
Still wander in this lonely crypt
Whirling amid moth-eaten curtains of velvet
Tip-toeing around ruby-furred chairs
That their spectral crowds
Anchor themselves to
Tap-dancing in silent shoes from ray of sun to ray of sun
Whispering, longing for the shining glow of ancient lights
Those otherworldly seconds where, with bated breath,
Their adoring fans waited for their arrival.

Yes, this place is haunted
Haunted by wraiths of a bygone era
When the spotlights glowed
And the jazz band played
When they were young
And they were gods.



Up up up
Down down down
Hustle bustle
"Three minutes 'till curtain!"
Alone in the corner
Bedecked in lacey white
As the set is hurriedly
Arranged on the stage
She up up ups
And down down downs
Voice dancing
In the air
Tangy with haste and stress
Calmly, quietly
Scales scales scales
She quickly practices
Before curtains
Then lights dim
Adjust costume
Then move to center stage
As velvety red lifts
And the show begins


Look
He's over there.
Slumped against the cold stone wall
As people hurry hurry by
To get out of the cold
But he can't
He is left out here
And on his face is regret
And remembrance
He remembers a time when he was more
Than that pathetic specimen of poverty
When he was someone
But they didn't need him anymore
So they threw him out
Threw him out with the trash
To make room for what they called
"Bigger things"
They crushed him, robbed him, stole all he was
And hoped to be.
The play changed, and so
His part did too.


His eyes are shining
As he watches the fuzzy reel
The popcorn lying forgotten on the floor
All that matters is the blasting revolvers
And blinding sand-filled gales
And the shining badge
But, too soon, with a final click,
The sheet turns black
And the lights come on
And the boy sighs and stands
Fishing in his pocket in hope
For another nickel
But he's run dry
And leaves the theater
And the wondrous world of
Damsels in distress, and mustachioed villains,
And dashing heroes,
Behind


Stop! Don't touch me there,
this is my private square!

Camaclue

Quote from: Ungatt Trunn II on November 12, 2012, 09:10:32 PM
ey M8 ur cheeky i swear ill wreck ur [poop]

Muse

Stop! Don't touch me there,
this is my private square!

Camaclue

Quote from: Ungatt Trunn II on November 12, 2012, 09:10:32 PM
ey M8 ur cheeky i swear ill wreck ur [poop]