In the Shadows of the Night

In the shadows of the night
With a bright moon above
I lay here longing
For a chance at love

Each morning sun I rise
Hoping I find the one for me
Each night I go to bed
With my heart still empty

I’ve since long proven I can make it on my own
Now I’m just so tired of being all alone

In the shadows of the night
My heart I’m willing to share
But it don’t mean just any fool
Is going to be welcomed there

I once rushed too soon to someone
Who brought me nothing but pain
That was one hurt, one too many times
I don’t need to go there again

A man of faith, a man of heart, a man of his words and deeds
A king custom made for this queen, Lord you know what I need

In the shadows of the night
I offer my plea; my prayer
You built this vessel of love
But my cupboards are bare

Am I paying for some sin?
Did I transgress somewhere?
Is this how I repent?
Will no one ever be there?

Your daughter’s pleading, prostrate with hands clasped tight
Oh please release me Lord, from this harsh plight
How my heart is aching, in the shadows of the night

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It’s been a grr week…

Slice of Life Story Challenge

The Weekly Slice of Life Story Challenge

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dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight Mic

dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight ~ Week 55

Unfullfilled

Anything goes

That was his deeply growled whisper
As she, hungrily cupped the sides of his face,
Kissing him roughly, deeply with need
Her mouth singed with the heat of his passion
A smoldering inferno that pulsates
With each extended digit
That careens into her

She lines kisses down him neck
As he nibbles the base of her throat
Goose bumps trail down her arm
She anchors him against the wall
Undressing the rest of him
Hot candle wax drizzles down the center of his chest
She tracing her fingers through it, marking her name upon him
Hearing his breath tremble inside his chest
as he expels throaty moans

Pulling back, her husky breath pants in his ear
The scent of his cologne floats in the air
His lids droop with pleasure
As she teasingly barbers him with her gentle grazing
Around the ring of his empire
The tastes and smells of him whirl through her
Driving her even wilder

Drawing his mouth to every part of her body
She runs ruby red nails along his spine
Her vision grows hazy and she starts to sway
As he pays particular interest in lip service
to chiming the tiny bell that hangs
Just inside the arch
She tries to breathe him in-side her

She feels his arms grip her tightly
as heat pours out of him
Her craving still unsatisfied
Anything goes, came and went
The promise of satisfaction unfulfilled

Still she moans the words
He doesn’t want to hear
And insists he takes what he has earned

But he knows…

He guiltily leaves his unearned fee
On the dresser by the door
That has barely closed behind him
When he hears the battery-operated hum

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dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 54

I Had Words

Depressed man

I had words; words were my all
From opening cap to closing dot
Whether frivolous or thickened plot
Words that captured one leaf’s fall
Or held a fidget much in thrall
Now, I slowly lose all that I’ve got
I had words

Words from days past I can’t recall
Feeling my brain’s descent to pot
I’ve learned to make do with my lot
As from my mind words start to fall
I had words

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dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 50

Silence Echoes

Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells, of silence

Simon and Garfunkel – Sounds of Silence

The days versus the nights it’s all the same
The players may change, but it’s still game
Chances blown, nothing’s mistaken
Waiting for my soul to be taken
I had that chance, but now it’s through
Still, I‘d like, just one last reach to you
But how can I tell if there’s a chance
When I’m met with your echoes of silence
Are mere words enough to breach through?
Hear my words that I might teach you

How to build the impenetrable wall
One if you don’t climb, then you don’t fall
I learned much too late, by making it my skin
I kept nothing out, but trapped myself within
Marking my soul with each sin’s imbrue
Forced now to pay the devil’s due
For all you learned from my hateful spite
I’ve but one last chance to make it right
A gentle task that I beseech, I do
Take my arms that I might reach you

When your heart opened, I never saw
Now I open mine and you withdraw
Your retreating steps sounding hallow
In the rasping sobs of which I wallow
Architect of my own personal hell
Turning your kind soul into shrapnel
A weapon against that which I most fear
That to my heart, you might grow near
And there’s so much I’ve got left to tell
But my words, like silent raindrops fell

Against the hushed echoes of your voice
Cruel eyes reminding me, this was my choice
So I never learned where love was bound
As you walked away without a sound
Now my heartbeat carries no cadence
Its walls are too filled with your absence
Like moments of time that’s slipped away
Last chances gone and forever gone they’ll stay
All lost within the heart’s distance
And echoed in the wells, of silence

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Yes, another Glosa.

dVerse Poets Pub| OpenLinkNight – Week 49

 

 

Thou Hath Wrought This

Do you know what happens when I think of you?
The lessons I’ve managed to learn in this life
On whom I can depend for all that I want
All the rest of the things I have come to know
How they effect the what and who I am now
And what hath thou wrought, Daddy? Thou hath wrought – this

I was my father’s daughter, thou hath wrought – this
Every ounce of hate I learned, first came from you
It’s a bell I strive to un-ring even now
Fully believed when you said ‘this ain’t worth life’
Of course learning ‘this’ meant me, took time to know
Freedom to roam, the only thing you did want

Know what I wished for? What I truly did want?
To be fatherless child, thou hath wrought – this
Circles of your first, back of your palms I know
For it was the most I’d ever see of you
Getting worse as I got to know some of life
Innocence not a card that I could play now

Come sixteen praying – I’m too used for you now
But I was wrong, you still did just what you want
As you had been doing for all my young life
On my knees for more than prayer, thou hath wrought – this
But the boys loved the lessons first learned from you
Just who I learned it from, they never did know

But I found something I never thought to know
A something gallant within, even now
Nearly buried forever from hate of you
Something you thought that I would never stand to want
Faith that somewhere love exists, thou hath wrought – this
And by having such, a renewed urge for life

You can’t jam hate into a soul filled with life
I’m strong in the love that came so late to know
A phoenix from hate’s ashes, thou hath wrought – this
But I am Janus, the reverse of you now
Doing opposite of all you taught to want
For in spite of your grip, I can release you

And there’s a peace to know, there’s worth to my life
I love and am loved, this I’d want to you know
I think of you now, glad thou hath wrought – this

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A hard form this time: Sestina

A Sestina is a poem consisting of six six-line stanzas and a three-line envoy, where the words ending the lines of the first stanza are repeated in a different order at the end of lines in each of the subsequent five stanzas and, two to a line, in the middle and at the end of the three lines in the closing envoy. The patterns of word-repetitions are as follows:

1 2 3 4 5 6
6 1 5 2 4 3
3 6 4 1 2 5
5 3 2 6 1 4
4 5 1 3 6 2
2 4 6 5 3 1
(6 2) (1 4) (5 3)

There is no set meter or rhyme scheme although traditionally most were written in iambic pentameter. The closing envoy also has several variations some of which are:

(2 5)(4 3)(6 1),
(1 2)(3 4)(5 6) or
(1 4)(2 5)(3 6).

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpneLinkNight – Week 99

A Taxing Price

She rides bareback upon the mare,
The sun makes nimbus of her hair,
The glow adds to her beauty fair.
All loudly gasp as they take air,
There’s naught that they can do but stare.

Her men walk with her as she rides
They move as one, in perfect stride
Surrounding her from every side.
She ignores the pleas and chides
Beauty like hers, this she must hide.

As word spreads, more do convene
To spy a sight for from routine
This woman valued as a queen
Has not the vanity to preen,
Just holds her head, high to be seen.

With shock and awe her lord reacts
To her fair skin and hair of flax
And all the garments that she lacks!
But he cannot ignore the facts
He could have stopped this in its tracks
Had he just lowered the damned tax!

Artwork of Lady Godiva

Lady Godiva

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In a silly mood

dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 48

The Bloom

.
.
I saw this little sprout one day
A sprout like none I’ve seen before
Unique

Rising between a concrete crack
From time to time I would notice
The growth

Against the forces deigned to halt,
Something so delicate and free
It thrived

From spindly bud to luscious bloom
One day it caught my eye and held
Me there

I knew then any further growth
Would need the help of one who cared
Like me

For I then young but determined
Had learned sometimes even the tough
Need help

That I needed this bloom as much
Was revelation in itself
Welcomed

The bloom that grew to be my wife
That watched me grow from boy to man
To hers

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Today’s form: Synchronicity

“Synchronicity” (The state or fact of being synchronous or simultaneous; synchronism. coincidence of events that seem to be meaningfully related.). This form consists of eight three-line stanzas in a syllable pattern of 8/8/2. This poetry type has no rhyme and is written in the first person with a twist. The twist is to be revealed within the last two stanzas.

Theme Thursday | Evolution

dVerse Poets | OpenLinkNight – Week 47

Morning

Lying in your arms, feeling the dawn slowly
mark it way across our bodies
        My head says time to get up
             My heart differs
Gentle stroking, up and down
my spine
touch of gossamer
there… not there
        Warm
              Stirring
Is it real or do I sleep still?
Too real to be a dream, slowly bringing me
from the depths of sleep
         Smooth
              Slow
                   Sensual…
As though a sudden move
would cause me to shatter
I wake easily,
        Knowing the warmth I feel
              is more than the rising sun
I turn to you.
My eyes are closed,
        but I can see your smile,
              feel you surround me.
Your lips upon mine.
        Asking a silent question.
              Receiving a silent answer.

Love me…?
        Yes…
              Oh yes…
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OpenLinkNight — Week 46

In The Hands

Cloth girds his eyes in loose blindfold
He lays there and conforms as told
To move now would court disaster
He’s in the hand of the master

A maze is stroked across his skin
He holds the urge to gasp within
Warm oils offer scents of aster
He’s in the hand of the master

He seams the pleasure with the pain
The odd brew comfort it contains
One moment slow, the next faster
He’s in the hand of the master

Bordered on pleasure’s dive he moans
And lets escape a fizzled groan
Flesh yields like sinner to pastor
He’s in the hand of the master

A subtle tap sends the message
His hour’s up for this massage
His twinkled grin is now plastered
He’s in the hand of the master

Sore muscles tamed by fingers meek
Sets his appointment for next week
A magic touch like spell casters
He’s in the hand of the master


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And today’s form? Kyrielle

The French kyrielle is composed entirely of quatrains (a quatrain is any stanza with four lines). There is no set number of stanzas, although generally a kyrielle contains three or more. The rhyme scheme is up to the poet (aabb ccbb ddbb etc. is frequently used), but it must be the same for all stanzas. Also, the last line of all stanzas is the same. Kyrielles generally have eight syllables per line, although this is not a requirement.

Other rhyme schemes for the quatrain could be abaB, cbcB, dbdB, etc… or abbA, accA, addA, etc.. As long as the each quatrain uses the same rhyme scheme, the choice is yours.

dVerse Poets | OpenLinkNight – Week 44

Missing You

Through the fire, to the limit, to the wall
For a chance to be with you, I’d gladly risk it all
Through the fire, through whatever come what may
For a chance at loving you, I’d take it all the way

“Through the Fire” – Chaka Khan / I Feel For You

Sadness plays on the stereo through and through
Yet I can’t make myself move to turn the dial
Each song gives recollection of the love I once knew
Each song packs a tear slipping past memory’s smile
Another tear drops with the revelation – I’m missing you
For my life, I couldn’t tell you what started it all
Perhaps it was the love that came from up above
A dreamland with the best that we were made of
This was ours – winter, spring, summer or fall
Through the fire, to the limit, to the wall

I see the pictures on the wall, where more memories bestrew
A capture of that infamous “I know something” smirk
That to this day the origins of that one I never did construe
All I can do is once again laugh – God you were such a jerk
Head in hands, I cry through my frustration – I’m missing you
There are times I still turn thinking I heard your footfall
In just that moment forgetting Death’s crow, the cruel thief
For I know I’m imagining things and I’m mad at my own relief
Do I dare think of what I’d decide if choice came to call?
For a chance to be with you, I’d gladly risk it all

Turning off the stereo, I somehow manage to do
Quoted lyrics so beyond affecting all that I feel
I wonder how long before there’s a call to Bellevue
Because I’m laughing, but Lord knows this pain is real
And the tears flow without cessation – I’m missing you
A twisted part of me wonders the price I’d pay,
What trial to finish, what deadliest path by far
Would it take to uncross that most unforgiving star?
If it gained me but a moment with the Fates to parley
Through the fire, through whatever come what may

No hopes of thinking this bout is anywhere near through
I close my eyes, but it’s really beyond my command
I watch it all just as clearly, caught in memory’s purview
As trapped in this heartbroken tide as love letters in the sand
Cold gripped in the moment’s desperation – I’m missing you
I know I’ll have better ones, but no, not this day
And I gather these precious memories of our past
Even while knowing this is just a mood not long to last
And not finding it in the least wrong to honestly say
For a chance at loving you, I’d take it all the way

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Yes, my old friend the Glosa form.

dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight ~ Week 43