Tightrope

Keeping my balance, I walk

along this thin piece of thread

that streches from birth to death

above the fires of hell.

My bare feet hurt and bleed

and the fear is many a times

too strong: a missed step, merely

a slip, keeps me from

the everlasting burns,

the infinte scorching of

my human skin and the smell

of sweet, loving Death.

Maybe it's time I give up

and quit trying to hold my pace:

play around, feel the thrill

of the deadly heat upon my flesh.

Pick a card

Pick a card,
any card,
see it yourself,
and show it to everyone,
everyone but me.

Pick a life,
any life,
take a tongue, a face and a name,
and show yourself to everyone,
everyone but me.

Now choose your ways,
anyway,
just close your eyes and grab the tail,
or either stir the line,
by hastily ditching the trail.

Then find your days,
any day:
claim the Crown you know deserve,
or surrender to love,
living in your own humble mistake.

And meet Death,
the only Death,
unchanged in the comforts of a warm bed,
or found in the sharply fierce claws,
of a ravaging bullet’s bird.

Just pick a card,
any card.

Hurt me again

Hurt me again,
and feel the gentle warmth
of my crimson blood
steadily flowing the trace
of such a perfect face.

Hurt me again,
thy wounds shall never heal,
for they cut deep into my skin,
and bleed my soul out.

Oh, hurt me no more love,
and forget what was done,
for we’ll know it is time,
when crying upon two hazy smiles
we face our last sunset,
and vanish into the bright light.

Hurt me no more,
forget me and murder my memory,
for I’d rather forsake your gentle touch,
than have blood for tears.


Blackprint Poetry's recommendation
Today's recommendation goes to the blog My Beautiful Emotion and its even more beautiful author Kayleigh Jane, aged 17! Kayleigh's work truly amazes me: the choice of words, the themes in her poems... just incredible. Please visit her blog, it will be worth it:

http://my-beautiful-emotion.blogspot.com

See you next week!

In the Palace of Lady Eden

As the strange purple darkness
claimed its aftersun light,
and the dense woods changed its mood
from the green friendly to the mischievous dark,
I soon found myself wandering
in a desperate search for a place
where to finally lay my arms.

Yet the forest seemed to have no mercy,
not for drifters nor misdirected foes,
and before I could realize
I had surrendered far into the dusk
of my own weakness,
my own brutal and lethal wounds.

And in my dreams I saw casted
a beautiful woman of infinite might,
who in her walk, appeared to bend the trees back
blinded by her light, her brilliance,
so particularly expected from the midday sun.

And thus, amid this blazing light,
a group of dwarves and elves and men,
carried me up and healed my marks,
taking my cries to the now destroyed dark.

In the most beautiful palace I woke,
Lady Eden now sat beside me
and she spoke and filled my mind.

‘It is your duty now to be my man,
and from now this shall be your house’.

‘And you shall dwell with me. Forever.’


(Happy 22nd Birthday to me!)


New on Blackprint Poetry: Blog Recommendations


Today's recommendation goes to my favourite poetry blogger on the web: Splmartin and his beyond-incredible blog Read between the Minds. Make sure to check his incredible work at:

http://slpmartin.wordpress.com/

See you soon!

Endless

What's the time again?
The tender light through my shades
defines the hour, timeless.
Once again, I'm caged in infinity.

And the sacred silence
doesn't help. Where are
the children, why have they ceased
their playing in the streets?

Where are the murdered
and the sick and the deceased?
Where are the fumes and the deadly sirens 
of grief and endless fatigue?

I need a sign, a whisper in my ear,
a gentle touch of defined light
to cast an hour on my clock
and turn oblivion into night.


-Thanks to ShadiatiQue for the beautiful picture. Make sure to check out her blog.

After the war

By the ruins of the church

the soldier looks up to the sky

waiting for the time in which

his brother might stand by his side.

Across wasteland and bodies

fifteen holes dug up by the men

entrenched down into the earth

cover the shame brought upon them.

Never again will he stand,

or gaze into his child’s eyes of life

and he crawls into the trenches

hoping to be buried when he dies.

Fear

Again these endless nights:
who knows what awaits
in the smoke-infested corridors
that lurk behind
my old clay doors.

The fear returns
(to what? - I doubt)
and is my only friend.
Lazy steps, and racing cars,
in my brain, (by my side?)
Who hides in that empty space
between darkness and my flesh?

Shadows breeds tiny monsters,
a shaman said. But wait!
I cast no light:
Maybe I'll find
that I am the grander menace
that devours their heads.