I hear the clock ticking in the dark It echoes my heart as I lay alone With you in my head Wanting you by my side Wishing you were my own
The moon holds all my secrets How I long to be in your heart With words of love I’ve only said Within my dreams there are many things I want you to be a part
In the silver night
I did not think I could fall in love Thought it a bother to have such It seemed that Fate had other plans To have you so close and yet so far It is all just too much
Sometimes I think you could never care For the type of man I am it’s true Sometimes I think that you know That I’d give you everything And I hate myself for loving you
In the silver night…
And I’ll convince myself that I can manage That caring is not an advantage But now I know it’s a lie!
Loving you is a pauper’s face against the window Wanting on that which I beseech It’s a distance of galaxies when we’re feet apart In my mind I know how’d your lips feel Even though you are far out of my reach
It’s the eggshell syllables of your name I whisper to your specter in Luna’s light For once again I face the stars on my own All alone
On her knees, she reflects on her days up to these moments of her life. Say what they may now – she has earned this. The slurs of her heritage were a weight heavily carried on her back. The vitriol flung her way because of the lower caste into which she was born, a constant susurrus in the back of her mind, no more. The drive to disprove the mocking stereotypes subjected to her kind a crown of thorns that gave cold comfort. Some let the burden of them wear them down. Today she would show a different way to wear those labels – with pride.
She bows her head one last time, as the mantle of the choices that brought her here become a different kind of weight. Lifting her head, she rises from her knees before the vicar with grace, as he proclaims her to all. She begins her life anew with the only appellation that mattered now, Queen.
To what you answer Will always outweigh the things To what you are called
a) To know what we are doing here.
b) To know what it takes to hear your hoarse cry of what’s mine.
c) To know the touch of your goosebumped flesh so prime.
a) The feel in depth of what I’m doing to you there.
b) The sense of heat from your breath against my spine.
c) The copper tang taste on my lips from your bite sublime.
a) We deign to call out the deities to compare.
b) We give envy in the scent of us to those divine.
c) We acknowledge their rhythmic moans as comets come in time.
a) In gray dare.
b) In pink shrine.
c) In indigo chime.
Answer: All of the above, my love.
At Real Toads we’re asked to use a new form -well new for me- The Multiple Choice poem.
The challenge is simple. Write a poem in the form of a multiple choice test. The whole poem could be a test, or you could insert a multiple choice some where into the normal structure of a poem. Since we’re still in February, I went with that loving feeling (with sincere apologies to the Righteous Brothers).