Bloodstar

The Last Song

They never said it’d be easy
to see what she’d done.
but you went anyway
and sat beside her bed -
by the tubes that pinned
her to this world,
until relatives could arrive.

Her head tilted down as if
listening to the piano she once played
until her fingers ached,
wrists burned, and back strained.

The poor thing meant nothing
to no one but her.
Broken, battered, and out of tune,
but oh how she stayed there
day after day working each key
until she teased the music back
from the ivory.

You sat with her when she
played the last song,
just as you sit with her
as her song ends.

“Why did you end it like that?” you asked.
And she smiled. “Sometimes,
the best way for a song to end -
is unfinished.”

Tags: National Poetry Month, Poetry, bloodstar by bloodstar
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I can hear the river murmur its dreams
into the sun and the shadows as tomorrows
twilight slips in behind to steal the voices
back into the softest babble.

Even the rain drums out the code
across the vedant green that echos
the secrets I once kept close
as a child but became forgotten
when I became a man.

But when the river reaches the ocean
and touches the mighty roar,
I sit on the rocks and think
on the memories that I once treasured -
now buried in the sand.

And when the tears touch the skin
to trace the etchings on a face once bare,
The fog comes in to hide the last
echos of what had remained.

Tags: National Poetry Month, Poetry, bloodstar by bloodstar
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The voices whisper their rambling
babbling ideas through the air.
The words twist and spiral with
contrails that show their direction,
their intent to impact the brain
and penetrate deeper into the matter
then explode a silent concussion of
light and shock as the meaning becomes
clearer and clearer like a wave of compressed
air running out from the center of detonation.
And as vision is obscured from the afterimages
like the dazzling flash of the sun just after
the accidental glance sears the retinas and
the blinks and tears bring a new sensation:

Comprehension.

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“Die,” She said
and she struck
her hand
like a matchstick
across his face.

“In the end,
we all die,”
and he laughed
as the outrage
flashed in her eyes.

“A time comes
when your debts
will be paid.”
She slipped out –
he went to bed.

Fire raced through
and consumed
his bed (and him)
and she whispered,
“Die in a fire.”

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“Why? I don’t understand,”
I said. But she suppressed
my protests with a
light brush from her lips
and then she confessed.

“Some hurts never can heal,”
and she smiled through her tears.
“We tried, but the wound
stays, mending only
by the pass of years.”

So she held my hands,
told me to squeeze them tight.
I dropped to my knees
and looked into her face
(shadowed in the light).

There was one last kiss,
“We’ve done enough today.”
Without another
word, she let go my
hands and walked away.

Tags: National Poetry Month, Poetry, bloodstar by bloodstar
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Unfilled

That hole,
it can’t be filled
even though
you pour (one after another)
alcohol down
into you
to fill
That hole.

The pit
that never goes away
even though
your lovers (one after another)
pour themselves down
into you
unable to fill
the pit.

Your grave
that never will go away
even though
your friends (one after another)
drop flowers
onto you
unable to fill
your grave.

(losing a week of writing due to real life and exhaustion… these next few poems should be … interesting)

Tags: National Poetry Month, Poetry, bloodstar by bloodstar
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The End of Days (part I)

They whispered that
it was The End of Days.
and mankinds final hours
were upon us.
[Read more →]

Tags: National Poetry Month, Poetry, bloodstar by bloodstar
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Tags: National Poetry Month, Poetry, bloodstar by bloodstar
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(this is poem number 3 for National Poetry Month, where I’m trying to write 30 poems in 30 days)

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The lights
dim and vanish,
hiding the lovers desires
from the world.

The secrets are kept
behind the darkness.
And your promises?
all tender lies.

What would you say
to penetrate
deeper into her?
more lies serve you well.

But when the morning comes
Will the truth hurt
when you finally see
her pain?

Or will you remain
hidden in the night?
Unable to escape
the damage from
your betrayals.

(this is the second poem I’ve written for National Poetry Month where the goal is to write 30 poems in 30 days)

Tags: National Poetry Month, Poetry, bloodstar by bloodstar
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Tags: National Poetry Month, Poetry, bloodstar by bloodstar
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