Category Archives: Poem

Dancing in Paris

[a poem by   ~burning woman~  ]

I’m dancing, really dancing
only I don’t quite dare know
who this girl is, dancing so freely,
with such uninhibited abandon.

Behind her looms that steely landmark,
the Eiffel tower.
She spins and laughs, closes her eyes,
it appears, disappears
now covered in lights,
now wreathed in fog:
the clouds seem to frown
and she shivers and trembles
thinking, “Such daring!” Is this me?

It’s her happiness, you see.
The mighty Olympians are confused.
Perhaps even angry
for they’d swore she would never
taste happiness in this life.
The man in whose arms she swims:
who is he? She can’t remember–
Is she dreaming again, lost again?

She doesn’t know what time this is.
How long has the Eiffel being?
This must be a recent time,
a modern time, so says her dress.
This time, this one time
it has to be real,
not just some pointless vision:
one more of countless.
This time she beat the odds–
she-did-it. I-did-it… me!

I’ve dreamed to be here,
to possess this experience.

But it was always just a dream,
one after the other:
dreams, I have survived on.
From dream to dream weaving
the plain web of my simple life
in my very own make-believe tower,
a prisoner of fate and of fear
until the day I die
to enter that final dream.

But here I am,
dancing in Paris.

No other city looks like this;
no other feels like this.
The world is my home town
but Paris, ah, Paris
is the front door to my heart
and it lies wide open!

Be angry, Olympians, hate me if you will,
it matters to me no longer:
your lying mirror lies on the floor
in a thousand shattered pieces!
If I die now, then I die.
You were powerless to deny me

this one moment when the taste of happiness
touched my lips.  I am laughing!

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If Only this Damned Rain would Stop

[a poem by ~burning woman~ ]

If only, she sighed heavily
it was raining harsh and hard
on the shelter’s tin roof
spring flowers taking a pounding
across the street in a stranger’s yard
I wish it didn’t remind me of the bombings
the screams, the shouts and the blood
the running away scared in the dark
the fires lighting lurid shadows
when death lurked everywhere

If only I didn’t feel
this anger, this terror, this hopelessness
when my little sister was killed
my older brother carried her
until his strength failed and he could not
we buried her under rubble
so she would not be found
her body desecrated

If only I could remember
something else, something
that did not hurt so much
if I could hear her voice singing
just once more, oh, just once more remembering
how her beautiful slender fingers
made our piano keys dance
and we all smiled with tears in our eyes

If only I could still be sure
I believed in heaven once
God was good to us when we were at peace
we prayed, we worshiped dutifully
as was expected. It seemed right
but now it makes no sense anymore
after they stole everything
and destroyed our home

If only this could be home again
but it will never be home, never
the people here hate us and fear us
if only they knew what their hate does
how it killed my beautiful little sister
how it killed me
I am dead now
their hate can no longer kill me, just hurt

If only, she thought
this damned rain would stop, just
stop.

I Know about Pain (She said)

The following is a collaborative poem between Wilde Taylor from Morality Park and myself as  ~burning woman~

Listen
she said looking out the window
the magnolia did not quite
succeed in hiding the crows
I know about pain

Look
She said, listening to her soul
I don’t know how to stitch it up again
The water of the universe
Unable to contain itself
Grief, spilling out,
It knows about pain

Understand
she placed hand over heart
a cloud passed over the sun
emphasizing gently spoken words
this is sorrow from grief
for the pain

Feel
Said the fe/male pain
I am you and you are me
Together, sinking ships
Parting waters,
This is not denial
I know you

Drowning
she exclaimed gasping
hands to her so white throat
drowning in your/my (our)
eternal unbearable pain
should we not end
the pain?

Reliving
Is remembering the pain
Blue topaz, seas of sanctity,
Reincarnate once more
Retell, rewrite
The pain lives on –
Drowning itself
Into pieces of
Lightness
The unbearable lightness of being

That Feeling, it will not Leave

Where do you hail from,
you shattering feeling
flying on wings of doom,
harbinger of sapping horror?

It all seems so perfect right now,
the sky is pure, clear and blue
and high noonday sun sparkles,
distant snow-capped hills.

Spring arrives,  a bit unsure,
Winter birds actively seek
elusive bugs and sluggish worms
among pink buds and greenings.

Surely senses don’t lie so,
all must be well with the world
bathed, exploding, in delight
of so much beauty and peace.

But that feeling, it is not leaving.
There’s pain in my heart,
my food tastes of sawdust;
childhood nightmares are back.

The Day After

 

[a poem by   ~burning woman~]

It was a day long after
what happened didn’t happen:
denial was in full force then,
it made everything work,
and work was the order of the day.

There were warnings,
there always are warnings.
The planet was upset
sending signs of distress
in skies and seas and lands.

Birds, bees and butterflies
were less to be seen.
Fish left rotting carcasses
strewn across sandy beaches;
floating among the flotsam.

Violent storms, deadly droughts
succeeded chemtrails
and incessant burning of trees.
Smoke filled the valleys;
children choked in gun-smoke.

It would come, of course:
everybody knew it, everybody.
But promises and hope ruled the day
Larger bandaids were handed out
with flu shots and plastic smiles.

The day came, it was inevitable:
everybody had known the truth of it,
the inescapability of it.
Oh, it would have been a day
to be remembered.

Had there been anyone
to remember.

 

 

THE SWORD OF ALTARÏE

[thoughts of chivalry by Airin WilloWitch]

From the bowels of the Universe I was brought forth;
from the abode of those who carved the living stone
was I extracted from my ten billion year old bed.

Long before the story ever knew of sun or moon,
I travelled under the everlasting stars.
To the realms of the Great Elves I was taken;
there wrought, shaped and tempered.
There the blue flame of Altarïe was blended in my steel;
my hilt moulded of the purest gold.
No metal nor stone nor bone my edge could dull,
the hardest substances I absorbed unto myself.

Only the strongest grip could hold my hilt;
only the strongest shoulder could hold my weight;
only the strongest arm could wield my blade.

Where the great sword of Altarïe flashed,
the tide of battle swung and victory was gained:
did it matter to me who won? Who lost?
Many a nation has bowed to the conqueror
proudly holding his gauntleted hand upon my hilt;
raising my flashing blade before the charge.

Many a good man dead;
many a widow made;
many an innocent never saw the light of day
where my blade shimmered at the centre of the fray.

Many a city defended; many an attacker killed;
many an orphan protected and a virgin saved:
’tis not of me came evil or justice,
but of he who wielded my substance aloft.

Great cycles of years passed, kingdoms crushed
since sun and moon came to rule the earthen skies.
He casting his fiery light upon the high mountains,
filling the evening skies as with blood upon the seas.
She shyly staring at fields as covered with snow,
forever unsure of her place,
forever hiding only to return,
blushing pale under his fiery gaze.

I’ve known all the names
of man’s heroic sword wielders,
of Mesopotamia, of Greece,
Of Rome and the Kashmir;
of Arthur, of Roland, of Joan,
all came under my spell.

The last hero has fallen;
my light is extinguished.
I lie among rotting bones and crumbling mortar
yet always must I find my way out into the world

Though the great light of Altarïe may no longer shine,
for such hands as could strike fire in the likes of me
have long left this decaying and dying world,
here I do I remain.
More than a mere memory; potently waiting
for the heart that fills with desire;
the eyes that are sharp and far-seeing;
the self-empowered hands that grasp;
for the believer in chivalry
willing to challenge fate and change her world.

Hear me calling: I could be yours today.

In Love Again

[a poem, by Sha’Tara]

Did I really say
I’ll never fall in love again?
Never marry someone truly special?
Did I say that?
Oh but I lied didn’t I?
I didn’t know I was lying,
of course not.
I was sure,
I meant what I said that day
When I walked out of that office,
the lawyer had pronounced,
‘You are officially divorced.’
what did I feel
but an overwhelming a sense of relief
and we laughed in the restaurant
over a quiet dinner.

The years went swiftly by
afterwards,
in my big empty house.
I hardly noticed
the fading paint;
the heater making more noise.
Some lights burned out
I left them
I didn’t need them, did I?
There were so many other rooms
where the children had been:
I just needed to dust
and change the sheets
on one small bed.

But now I must confess
I’ve fallen in love again
and I’m going to marry.
This time I’m sure
it’s not a mistake.
This time I give up
everything;
this time I don’t look back;
this time
when I say, ’till death do us part’
I won’t be lying
my new lover,
and I do love him,
is death.