My poetry is certainly not the strongest area of my writing, but I hope someone enjoys these offerings anyway.
Six Feet Under
What is Love, if not the road to pain?
When there are those you will never see again.
What is Love, if not the path of hurt?
When those you felt it for languish in the dirt.
What is Love, if not a trial by suffering?
For you, who must endure when they are gone.
What is Love, if not a walk with death?
Fear not my friend, for in the end,
You will be again with those that you love best.
Oh Lord of the light,
We need you each night.
We worship and feed you,
In return for your protection from the cold.
Our laughter echoes your roaring tongues,
As they curl around the pillars of our lives.
How can you feel,
When you treat me like this?
You have no kind of empathy,
Or you would desist.
I have felt it coming,
The beginning of the end.
I know I will shatter,
If I cannot bend.
Do you know how it feels?
Like bright sunlight on bare skin,
Like a summer evening stretching to infinity.
The flame of love burning soft but strong,
And then I see her.
I feel the fire roar into life, spreading from my heart.
It fills me with its power. I can do anything for her.
She smiles warmly.
As she walks towards me.
And the fire burns more fiercely.
It makes me feel light as air, boiling up inside of me.
I feel like I can fly.
She reaches me, we embrace.
I know that she burns for me too.
I feel more like myself than I ever have before.
The soft velvet touch of lips on lips.
And I feel bliss.
Green as the deep, deep sea,
Reaching towards the lifegiver,
Quivering in the wind,
As if searching.
For the light.
Shot through with veins of sweet, sweet nectar.
A feast for those fortunate few who can find it.
The ambrosia of the gods.
If life were a road,
Oh the multitudinous turnings
There would be.
Which way, which turn
Will lead to
The perfect confluence?
But if we knew,
All surprise removed from life.
Everything preordained, programmed,
Nothing more than the gears of a clockwork machine.
Would this be living,
This stiff and regimented existence,
Devoid of passion or plasticity?
Would we be truly alive?
When you lose control,
And you only want pain,
Remember what rage is for.
With a flare and a blast,
It twirls through the void.
The light of our life.
And the heat of our death.
Its rays power our world,
But in its death it will take us with it to a fiery grave.
The clouds part, and you see her.
Silver like a magnesium flare.
Her face pitted by the ravages of time,
But still beautiful.
Eerie but awe inspiring,
In the deep cold of winter.
Then the clouds roll back again,
And she is gone.
In the blizzard he lurks,
Waiting for prey.
His eyes peer through the snow.
They see more than you would think.
A blur in the wind,
And his arm comes back holding a struggling figure.
Hunting has been good this day.
Flying / Death
Stretched out on a cloud,
With the wind in my hair.
So this is how it feels,
To be walking on air.
After the chaos below,
It seems like heaven up here.
Now that I’ve tasted,
What few mortals dare.
Nothing could ever,
Ever make me go back down there.
Now that I’m in heaven.
Dappled sunlight on my skin,
Provides no comfort from the icy weight,
The dead, hollow weight in my heart.
Not the green of the leaves,
Nor the blue of the sky,
Can lift my spirits from their lowly depths.
The sweet embrace of death beckons,
The coward’s way out.
The gulf is growing,
The gulf is growing wide.
Sitting here, and people drift away.
Try to reach out, and they pull back,
As if recoiling from some nightmare in their sleep.
Am I so bad?
When all seems lost,
And you pray for the end,
Hold on just a little longer.
When you feel that giving up,
Is your best bet.
Find the strength you didn’t know you had.
Like a waterfall of light.
Eyes like gleaming sapphires,
Sparkle in the sun.
A smile like the burning hope,
Engaged by the dawning of a new day.
Burning like the sunrise.
Oh what joy it is,
To be alive!
To feel each of your movements,
As if it shook the world.
The blood pounding through your veins,
You feel like you will live forever.
Each day brings new hope,
Hope of the good to come.
The pure power of life filling the very fibre of your being.
Why am I here?
What is my worth?
I live like a leech, a parasite.
What do I give back?
My body is weak, my mind chaotic.
What can I do?
What am I?
Under My Skin
She is my greatest strength,
And yet my greatest weakness.
She can hurt me like no other,
Being closer to my heart
Than the shield that defends it.
A single cold word from her warm lips
Can bring bitter winter to my soul.
She is my life, my love, my everything.
And when she turns away the sun sets,
And I am left empty.
All material on this site is © 2008 Thomas Tempest, unless specifically noted otherwise.