Pale mistress

Konica12523

 

Awake in velvet.

Blackness framed her nails.

 

Then I fought desire
but
(captured by those eyes)
lost force.

 

Resistance gone
she drew me down
toward both hungry lips
and sharp
white

teeth.

 

“Dear Lord, preserve my soul…”

I grasped at words
which fled away.

They drifted
through dead air
like falling snow.

 

Too late for escape

I noticed sounds

as if small
flapping wings
evaded sight.

Or strange
melodies were
(somehow)
produced

by tiny hands

on glinting stabs
across piano
keyboards.

 

While feeling
coldness
stretching
wide as night

over
distant trees.

 

(O life: where is thy warmth?)

 

 

 

Beside me, now
she lay
content.

Yet said

“Past victims haunt our rest.
Old wounds pollute
the psyche with
dread
mortality.”

 

 

I trembled:

Sensing

that voice

rise.

 

 

From a
void

 

 

which had

 

no

end.

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

(Above is a revised version of poem written at the age of 21.

As a lonely young man I secretly longed to meet a seductress.
Of course, I didn’t really want her to be undead or soulless.
(Though, many people I met in daily life showed little sign of having a soul, either.)

Anyway, I was always attracted by goth looking females.
So went a bit “full vampire” with this. 🧛🏻‍♀️)

 

My post-flu depression has eased, yet left me still unable to write poetry, at present.

 

Art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it? 🙏

 

Comments are always VERY welcome! 🙂

 

Has anyone else spent more time on WordPress than usual, recently?

(I’ve found many interesting new artists, poets, writers, and photographers to follow.)

 

Thank you
for reading.

 


( art / beauty / blog /depression / drawing / fiction / goth / love / mental health / poem / poems / poetry /  romance / writing )

Misplaced passion

 

16-e1553940720565.jpg

 

 

Why do they start
these misplaced passions

 

whose possession goes unexorcised
by scratching pen
at paper’s flesh?

 

When all I know of her is
image’s false clarity.

Transparently opaque.

 

Already I’d admired
that graceful liveliness:

Swift glances, so alert
(like deer for predator).

 

Though mind resists, I found

my heart
remains an idiot.

 

This should not happen.
Yet still has…

 

Soon adoration seeps
some quiet sigh.

While feeling strips a tongue
of wit.

Which makes me more
ridiculous, in
beauty’s amused gaze.

 

 

Declaring love
would risk contempt.

Will ardour
fade with time?

Or
held inside, just
die: deprived of air?

 

 

True, she’s free to scorn
since having nature’s power.

 

 

Now
anyway, the
secret’s out.

It’s been let loose.

Confessed.

 

Here
written

on this
new day’s page.

 

 

Left open.

 

 

For

those eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

(2003)

 


 

Hi everyone!

 

Hope you are well?

 

What started as prose, morphed toward poetry, again, during editing.

The above piece ended 18 barren years (1985-2003), from being hit by long-term illness.
It found me still incurably romantic. Minus any chance of finding love.

 

(Update: My vertigo and balance problems have been worse, this week, provoking anxiety. Because when it goes out of control things get quite scary.

Also, this site had only 1 view in 6 days, which feels a bit like blogging oblivion.)

 

Any art on the blog is mine.

Comments are always VERY welcome! 🙂

 

Thank you for reading.

 

 


( anxiety / art / beauty / blog / blogging / life / love / mental health / poem / poetry / romance / thoughts / writing )

 

One-sided love

 

Konica1195

 

 

Lostness   (80)

 

 

Better to think ourselves condemned
by genius

under spirit’s goad

than labelled “waster”

as I negatively judge
my current drifting

too exhausted for creation

seeking partial refuge
in retreat with books

a confined existence
measured via pages read

while more social life
would need the strength
that illness stole.

 

Here
reluctant
being pushed
to recognise
once a body
is no longer fit
for fresh romance
the mind attempts accommodating failure.

 

Yet biology resists
fate’s dismissive verdict

now made even harder after
unexpected
recent meetings
with a woman found adorable

when I sensed old wounds
of learned unworthiness
reopen through my
newly confused heart

default self-loathing
shielded from her power

preserving sterile isolation
against imagined merging
where this small world could be
shattered in assent.

 

How soon the arid
grown familiar
fields its dusty armour at
subversive reciprocity.

 

 

But such speculations
only wove some inflamed dreams

as avoided risk
ensured
fulfillment never came.

Vital words remained unsaid
and masked emotions
kept restrained
to spare our fragile sharing any
awkwardness.

 

So I later
felt sad waves
from missed
one-sided love

diminished
like a fading grief

though nothing had been lost

except
my hope.

 

 

 

 

(2003-2004)

 

 


 

 

(Art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it.  Comments are very welcome!)

 

 


 

 

(art/beauty/depression/drawing/lostness/love/mental health/poem/poetry/romance)