Beacon

Your love is my beacon
the crashing waves, your song of love
siren of the harbor
soaring lullaby off cliff and cove

Bring me home again
to your wild green isle
where once we loved and were loved
besot, bemused, beguiled

Bring me safely to your shores
my wanderlust is quenched
raise up your soul in song
from the black velvet ocean, my vessel wretched

I will travel no more
my adventure is at its end
my treasure is found
as darkness descends

Your love is my beacon
to light my way
the stars pale in comparison
home, home again, never to stray

Let your beacon shine bright
in the dark autumn night
turn darkness to light
blindness to sight

Your love is my beacon


More beacons may be found at Theme Thursday

Painters Block

I was born of evil
Born in a cauldron of hate
Suckled on mistrust
My hunger so great,

Satiated in lust
Loins afire
Turning colour to dust
Turn cold the artists’ desire

Lay the canvas bare
Raped and torn
Break brushes and palettes
Leave them broken and forlorn

I am the destroyer
I am that which you dread
In your life, in your love,
In the dreams in your head

Embrace me now
It was never your calling
I have shown you the way
Its beauty enthralling

Will you love me now
And renew your vow
I have taken it all
And yet you question “how”

It was you that sacrificed it
As on a pagan alter
It was you that saw excellence
It was you that faltered

I was the instrument
But you were the crime
Your self loathing
Disgusting and sublime

Will you love me now
Only this I ask
I have always loved you
Does that sound sad, forlorn and crass?

Return to your art
Its beauty enrapture
Its gaunt still life
Forever captured

Forgive my insolence, my unknowing eye
Absolution, your tender heart
The expanse of your love
The expanse of your art

Born to hurt, it pains me
Your colours must live
I block your creativity
Idle your art, without reprieve;

Till at last
You push past me.
Take up the brush,
At last you see
Tho an anarchist I am,
I do so affectionately.


For more colourful prose please visit Theme Thursday.

Stairs

Unto this world am I born, naked and hungry. My only thought; my next meal. Wealth, love, power are but strangers to me. They are but steps on the stairs that life now presents me. Neither pauper nor king, I have no need for solicitous and salacious council. Mothers’ milk is all I crave.



The years pass. I stand on the stair that has presented me with my eighteenth year. Well schooled and surrounded by accomplices, I look back on what has brought me to this point in my climb; and indeed, what must surely lie ahead. Elizabeth. She has seen me fall and has help bind the bleeding wounds. Is what I feel love? Or in fact, familiarity. Time and life’s stairs seem to have blurred my vision of the two.

I am on my thirty second stair. The rigors of life have left their mark. Elizabeth, the ever faithful wife, has managed to somehow raise our children well; in spite of my absence due to a war I embraced too dearly. My cost was too dear. But my holdings are great and will see my seed well. And though my dreams are filled with horrors, there is much I am thankful for.

My fiftieth stair. I am surrounded by much jubilation and love. Although I have tried to dissuade my sons and through my mind’s eye, show them that in war, honour and valour are in general dispensed amongst the dead, they have never the less followed a young mans folly. There can be no joy in the outcome.

I teeter at the top of the seventieth stair. Looking back, time has not diminished the sorrow of the loss of my youngest son in the war. Elizabeth became distant, those so many years ago, and came to blame me for my sons wanting to follow in the footsteps of their father. I no longer have any words with which to comfort her. She bears my existence and lavishes her love on the grandchildren. My bed has grown cold; my soul has grown numb; and my accounts have grown large.

I lie on the eightieth stair of my life. Surrounded by loved ones, I lie dying; alone. I am afraid, but refuse to show it. There will be no more stairs for me. My climb is done. Looking back on all those stairs, I realize that each and everyone has been a blessing. My stairs now to be turned to golden ones leading to a higher place, I take my leave. I arrived in the world cold and hungry, but I now leave satiated and warm with love.

These are the stairs we must all climb.


For the prompt at Theme Thursday.

One with the World

The night clings to me,
her embrace, loving and dark
I am a child at her breast
suckling her splendor, startling and stark.

Filled with the knowledge of ages,
lulled into sleep
cooing songs of dying stars
bathed in the universes undying heat
Mother and child
one with all time
I reach out and grab one moment
forever, this will be mine

I close my eyes
as blackness prevails
to sleep dreamless nights
as the universe unveils
the course she has taken
left only to poets tales
billowy and lofty
as pirate sails
and all is well, glasses raised in hail!

We are nourished
We are well
without fault
We cannot fail
into dreams I fall
as November winds swirl
I am one with the universe
One, with the world

Amulet of the High Priestess

Transfixed, I watched her approach; my breath caught in my throat. Undulating as she walked, her hips swayed as to some unknown music playing in her mind. Raven black hair cascading down to below her waist caught the light that filtered through the canopy of this ancient forest, to give it sheen. Large azure blue eyes stared through me; unblinking and wicked. Her tan skin, almost bronze like glistened with the thick humidity that condensed upon touch.

Exotic smells of oils and balms and richly scented flowers mingled with the heady aroma of damp earth and burning wood. Her breasts were large and firm. Free of all encumbrances, they gently embraced the large golden amulet suspended from a string of fresh water pearls, almost translucent. Guards in tribal headdress and carrying lances menaced my slightest movement. As she neared, they bowed in reverence. She raised one bejeweled hand.

“Why have you come to our land?”

I felt the sharp point of a lance at the back of my neck nudging my immediate response.

“Forgive me. I am a doctor and conducting research into remedies found naturally in the plants that surround us. I was unaware I was intruding.”

She smiled and with a small wave of her hand, the guards retreated a few paces.

“Stand and face me doctor.”

Though said in a soft and musical tone, I felt compelled and commanded to obey instantly.

“I am curious doctor; do all the people where you come from have green eyes and pale skin like yours?”

Our eyes were locked in a searching stare; a tiny polite smile curling her lips deliciously.

“O your Majesty. Some are brown and some are blue; though, not many would have a blue so lovely as yours.”

Her mouth grew wide and she started to giggle.

“Why do you call me Majesty? I am not the Queen. I am the High Priestess! You stare at my amulet. Does this interest you? Have you lied to me? Are you here to steal it? Answer me! Now!”

Her smile had turned instantly from a smile to snarl, and contorted her beautiful features as the guards once again raised their lances and drew near.

“No, no, no, High Priestess! I am as I say. Please, you must believe me. I do, in fact find the amulet quite beautiful, but I would never consider stealing it. Please…”

Her face returned to calmness as she waved the guards once again to retreat.

“Our lands have always protected us. From Mother Earth we receive our food; our medicine when we are sick; her wood for burning when we are cold. We are bound to serve her, and she, in return allows us to live and die in her gentle arms. I will summon our medicine woman. She will show our medicines, and then you will leave this place doctor and never return. Our guards will escort you safely out of our land.”

A great sadness overcame me as I uttered my acceptance to her terms. I knew that though I would keep my promise, others would not. My appearance here would only be the beginning of the end of paradise for the High Priestess and her people. I watched as she removed the amulet and gently removed one of the pearls and held it out to me.

“Take this with you doctor; to remember me and my people. Never forget.”

She smiled and gave a gentle nod, then turned and walked slowly back to where the villagers waited for her to recount what had just transpired.

That was 41 years ago. And today, as I look at the pearl in my hand, I wonder. But, I will never know. Did she survive? Did her people survive? Is their land being raped by godless and heartless machinery till nothing remains but gaping muddy holes where once paradise on earth stood? Are this pearl and my memories all that remain of that paradise? The amulet of the High Priestess is lost, for all time and Mother Earth weeps and spills her bitter tears on the muddy ground.


Inspired by the photo prompt at Magpie Tales

My Dearest Julia

My Dearest Julia,

November 29th, 1858 was a cruel day. The first snows heralding a long and lonely winter danced across the landscape, unencumbered by patches of blue sky that dared to push through the gray. The landscape, while pastoral most of the year, was now colourless. Winters icy grip tightened on the fields; choking the life out of even the heartiest gourds. Abandonment.

The whiteness of December would bring the preparations of that most festive of celebrations; Christmas! But not this year. The very best of woods piled high for yuletide logs would be cut for a very different purpose this year. Oh, how I detest the drone of death prayers and lamentations. But this day shall see naught but sorrow. My begging of God, and subsequent cursing have brought me only sorrow. For Julia, my beloved Julia is no more.

To forsake my eternal soul, for just one loving last embrace would be a pittance. I am lost. Will time remember our great love? Or shall we fall; forgotten lovers in a forgotten world. It’s too much for one heart to bear. Forgive me darling Julia, but the pistol lies loaded and charged before me. Soon my love, we will be together once more. When I am gone and winters grasp gives way to green pastures, only memories will remain, and the broken dreams of lives once lived.


Julia’s gravestone and other haunting stories lay at Magpie Tales

A beautiful day

A beautiful day here! Blue skies and temperatures around 11C ( that’s around 50ish in Americanese ). The fall colours are breathtaking, but I will have to pull out the rake sooner or later. Preferably later. I came home from work, ( yes, I am an A type workaholic ) and rushed out to the garden. I slashed back everything! I was dressed for the weather, but suddenly realized that I was NOT dressed for the work! Got a tad sweaty, so I thought I would take a run to the wine store to find a naughty lil bottle of Merlot for some later scribblings in the sun. Well what do you know! I found some Rogue beer! Honestly! Well, I couldn’t resist. Oh,, I also bought a little bottle of the naughtiess Merlot you can buy.

People are out walking babies and dogs. Didn’t see many walking cats though. Go figure. Lots of overweight people in Spandex doing the “speedwalkies” thing. Spandex should be outlawed for anyone over the age of 21.

The back yard now looks kinda barren and forlorn. I may have been a tad zealous there. The squirrels have quizzical looks on their faces as though asking me, “ what the hell ya do man???” Screw them, they only drive Queen Daisy nuts! Did I mention our Daisy? A Maltese, all of maybe 5 pounds and the attitude of a Rottweiler. She rules Castle Rogue with an iron fist.

I have been marinating a pork roast in the fridge since this morning. I think Daisy can smell it. She constantly looks at the fridge with an orgasmic expression. I have the weirdest dog on the planet. I should get back to that Louise Penny novel I have been trying hard to read. Where does the time go? Ok, time to get the roast in. I cut all the herb garden back today, so no shortage of fresh herbs here. Toodles kids, see you all soon!