2.46 AM

my mind is coaxed awake from a particularly long train of thought, not yet asleep not fully awake, it seems as if sweet dreams were being brought on

because I woke up in a million years—my soul floating up to the stars—my lips forming contentment in all its lazy, luxuriant glory,

my hair soft—even after ages in the sun—healing in the shade of night—my eyes heavy with the weight of your dreams and my senses are filled to the brim

my eyes are closing—i’m floating back down into sleep’s folding embrace and my mind is full of your soft peach lips and your sun warmed skin and your raven hair thick and curling between my fingers,

and I’m back again in your deep blue room and wind blown white curtains, your tumbling pile of books your unmade bed where your lips touched mine for the first time, your stack of records and films strewn around without a care because—because I’m full of you, you with your well-worn shorts and laughter bouncing off the walls, the evening sunlight turning you golden and Edward Sharpe singing Home.

And I am, I am. I am truly, truly, home.

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Bedazzled

You tell me you are not beautiful
but you don’t stop
to see
How the wind holds
her sweet breath
and whispers
her approval to me
How the sparkling waters
under the sunlight
burst forth like a million
rapid heartbeats,
How the stars of the calm
night glitter much so
bright, you don’t see.
You only tell me
you’re not
beautiful
and don’t
stop
to
see
I’m only
like
the wind,
water
and
the
stars
Bedazzled.
By
your
beauty.

The Eve of Night’s Reign

I watched the lonely bird disappear in the horizon
The Queen dispatched the warm orange of her day’s Sun to pursue it.
The kingdom of Sky was an endless canvas of yellow,
the occasional orange and red streaking across.

The soft breeze, like satin caressed my skin.

Those were the telltale signs
The time had come.

The dying rays of Sun directed my pursuit
leading me into the canopy of your dwelling
among the trees that stood tall and somber.

I thought I heard the familiar rustle of the leaves
like the forest was waking from it’s enchanted slumber

Had you come for me?

I reached out for you.
Sure enough a branch of oak encircled my waist.
The light is failing fast.
I turn around in your arms
looking through the dimness
into the dark brown of your eyes,
partly concealed under the yards of chestnut.

The musk of pine in your breath entices my senses
the deep wheat of your skin reflects the last of the golden light.

In a tremulous outreach I pick a fly-away leaf from your rippling mass of chestnut.
A hint of a smile playing in the corner of your mouth.

Then in a swish of your cloak
–a kiss on my lips
–a click of of your heels
you’re gone again

Back in the open

The Sun has gone — not into oblivion.
The Queen has retrieved her forces.
Somewhere a monotonous bird calls to it’s mate
The fly-away leaf lays in my open palm, gazing.
The sounds of the forest are returning

I think I hear a thousand hooves
A war horn screams afar — in glorious victory.
The King is here to reign.
Her day is stepping aside.

The kingdom of Sky welcomes the pearly calm of Moon
And the King rides in with his vast, bellowing cloak of midnight blue.

Apolectus

Stood tall the tower of her confinement
far far away from mortal reach

The patch of vivid blue from her window
was forever clear, so vibrant, so distant.

Her tower stood in the heart
of a forest forbidden,
where dwelt the creatures of magic
and creepers and trees that breathed
of treachery.

She longed for an escape
and escape that would hold her up
like a man’s strong arms that held his daughter
or that his lover is lifted by,
up to touch the distant patch
of forget-me-not blue
or lay her down,
down in the dew kissed meadow below
where a soul, laid on the
lush green ecstasy would soothe.

But desires don’t materialize into gallant princes,
princes that will come galloping, to give in
to her whims and fancies then
galloping on horses to whisk her away

For passing of time she used to sit
by the lone window and does so still
immersed in thoughts of unfathomable depths
swirling images in her keep

A silver paintbrush in her hand
drawing miracles on her walls of confinement,
An unconfined spirit,
A high waterfall, exuberant freedom
A blazing sun, righteous anger
A sole ship sailing on high seas,
Tides in her heart
A woman on horseback
an escape, her escape.

Midst sighs of defeat, exclaims of bliss
She planned it, in careful wit.

Then the dark head with endless tresses
like rippling waters of a black river,
unending, winding, unwinding, looked up.
The plan was drawn – fully bloomed
’twas reflected in the spring of her dark eyes
in the summer of the dusky skin
in the flush of her cheek
and in the tremble of her lips

That night by her window
not in contemplationbut in disquiet fervour she sat
holding her brush and hair
she let her breath upon
her bosom splay, her head bent
o’er the casement’s ledge
anticipation writ large
across her poignant face

A trembling palm enclose
the shaft of the silver brush
A stroking move, an intense flash,
A blaze of red hot light
The enchantment had not broken.

A hundred silver fragments lay
in the open of her palms
The gleam of the moon
in the northern sky failed
to camouflage her tears
that now pooled.

Mother Gothel’s enchantment had worked well;
keeping her in this wicked confinement
for eternities to come.
bent double, she curled up in desolateness
and the warmth of the moon seemed cold.

One white landscape away
She was sitting on her ledge
knitting time away
in strands of brilliant rainbow

When came a call of her name
A call that seared through her wintry heart
to touch the softness that still flamed
and thus in secret, she let down her hair.

He was up inside her tower
beside her, spreading his warmth
She was compelled under his tempting touch.
Her lamp ebbed so did her coldness
The darkness grew but only outside
within her there was only light.
The year long frost had melted away

Now she sat in the darkness
The night still young.
Awaiting his arrival.
waiting for his touch to
drive away the coldness
waiting for his kiss to
make the world disappear
waiting to lay in the heat of her bed
a space where only they belonged
a place which held secrets
secrets that made her blush scarlet.

She waited a long while, no call came.
Her lamp was ebbing away
She held her breath
A soft murmur reached her ears

Picking up the slight sound
she ventured into Mother Gothel’s
The key space showed her, two figures
Two figures entwined in intense familiarity
Two figures she knew well. Perfectly well.

The light was out of her by the time
she reached her door, into a tower cold.
no heat to warm her the slightest.

Summer had gone away too soon.
The fire that once blazed in the hearth
had been doused forevermore.

The tears of sorrow never came,
nor the excruciating pain she had expected.

Her entirety had been replaced by an emptiness
A gaping hollow she felt pleased to have.
The fire breathing dragon beneath her tower
had taken her heart, never to return again.

It was then she knew what to do
it was then the key to the lock was secured
it was then she knew what she had to make
it was then she knew she only had to make a Choice.

Apolectus! Apolectus! she cried in bittersweetness

Then she slashed at her mortal bindings
tore away the ropes of immortality
freed herself to fly away or to sink
to oblivion or to eternal bliss
that I cannot tell for sure,
for, it was Always her choice.

The Pianist

” You can only want one thing the most”

the words echoed, like a long forgotten dream, emphasizing it’s unsung significance.
And looking at him, waiting for her, she knew all of a sudden that he was the ‘one’ thing that she had always wanted.

The insistent bell signalled the end of the interval, interrupting her daydream and forcing her back into the fleeting present. Everything, every moment was spent in a welcomed state of numbness, for as long as she could remember, she dwelled in the past. Memories, scattered here and there, agonizing to put together, yet impossible to let go.
She seated herself at the grand piano, and remembered him to be ever so spontaneous with verses.

“Perfect tone of crafted sound:
Inner depth of rumbling bass
Agitates my heart to pound!
Noble middle-range’s grace secures
Ovation – fell the ground!”

A tentative hand touched the yellowed keys, and her gaze, of it’s own accord moved to the finger where a ring might have been. She had long since shunned regret and had faith in the choices she had made. It was her choice, she found herself reminding.
Then breaking away from her undirected train of thoughts she stole a quick glance at the mirror proffered by her lady in waiting.
Her deep hazel eyes were aglow with a melancholy of long lost euphoria.

The curtain lifted into a thunderous applause, she felt the familiar warmth coursing through her, tonight would be the octogenarian’s final piano concerto.

Unbeknownst to her, he sat in the eighth row, beside a Monsignor of Italy.
Tonight was Lady Fenworthy’s final act.
Gold Medallist of the prestigious Royal Philharmonic Society, member of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra and a modern pioneer in alternative-classical instrumental.
But to him she was Melody, plain Melody, a melody more beautiful than the ones she spun out of her golden fingers, admired by many, appreciated by all.

As the first motes of her melody captivated the theatre into a stunned silence and the lights faded away, he leaned back into his seat, vaguely aware of the Monsignor complaining about the bad wine and clutching in his left palm two silver bands with Gaelic inscriptions.

Just in case.

Slice Of Teen Life Romance

Vulnerability is the essence of romance. It’s the art of being uncalculated, the willingness to look foolish, the courage to say, ‘This is me, and I’m interested in you enough to show you my flaws with the hope that you may embrace me for all that I am but, more important, all that I am not.

Romance, is something we ALL muse over or have been enamoured by at some point of our lives or another, romance and love and by love I obviously mean romantic love. Now 17, this is something I’ve given a lot of thought, most of the time subconsciously, the definition of romance has been changing on a regular basis for me – still does.
When I was thirteen, the the entire concept of romance eluded me, I found answers in books, in movies, chick lit and sometimes was brave enough to experiment.
However, four years have passed since my first kiss and I’m no longer captivated by the concept of ‘romance’ that prevails now. When I put forward my views, I come across as old fashioned, or orthodox, but the truth is far from it.
I’ve always been open about every aspect, every attitude and have tried my best not to be judgmental, but you see, when it comes to expecting the same bit from others, the fail.

This is a rant over the current state of teenage affairs, It’s a piece of my mind, a small slice of teen life.
I’ve traveled four years from my very first kiss (not to mention it was pretty clumsy and one of my knees did NOT bend up in the air) and I’ve realised a couple of things and these observations are not novel, merely reinforcements of what’s been said over and over and over again.

I’ve discovered that love is temperamental and matures over time and goes through various phases. the passion is there to stay for only this long and then what is required is a healthy companionship.
after the initial bout of fierce passion it cools down to adjustments, understanding and companionship, and if a couple cannot rekindle the romance at this point of time, the relationship usually breaks. A major reason why there are so many cases of divorce and break ups these days.

I see I’ve been ranting, well, the thing is I’ve been trying to understand what I want to seek in my significant other, Sensibility, Intelligence and most importantly acceptance. People have a weird tendency to try and change a person when they are together, that’s sad because they forget that the precise reason why they had chosen their partner in the first place was the reason they are like they are, with the imperfections.

phew, too much ranting. finally coming to the point (ducks behind the chair) I think I’m on very much on the right track in finding someone like that. yeah that’s it.