The Poetry Den

Winter's Tree A rustic ancient eminence stands covered in a veil Vigilantly listening to the bare and empty wail As golden threads gently descend  To reflect upon the peace  On the raw and untouched beauty Of a down softer than fleece It stands tall and imposing  Yet somehow not at all  As if a wilted legacy laid to rest after a fall He stands waiting for a crown to come A mantle made for shade When then the sun will shine again For the will to be remade

Hidden Scars If rivers were the tears we cried, what would the oceans be If hills the stones upon our heart, what mountains would we see If trees like worries touch the sky, what could the forests do If feathered clouds can turn so gray , what would thunder mean to you As raindrops falling in the night, obscuring shining stars A battered guise, so elegant, veiling hidden scars As puddles form beneath the feet, of lost and plodding souls What purpose can there really be with one so full of holes The steep and arduous price to pay to keep up the facade Reeks of senseless trial, of fortune that is flawed Yet maintain that shallow false veneer, is something that we must For if it fails we crumble so, and with us all we trust

Ashes I’ll tell the tale that won’t be told Of curses, blights of young and old The burnt, the charred, the obsolete The perfect one who's incomplete The blackened weave once florid stood Now flaccidly misunderstood A tale of ashes, gold or dust A tale of valor so unjust The epic stage unfairly set Its sequel nears, filled with regret And forth it goes forevermore A pendulum that's keeping score The tale is told until its not These ashes glow until they rot For flames that burn are never hot And my tale is true until its not

The Sound Of Silence I have heard the sound of silence, stood beneath the neon lights Seen the   visions mock and scream, laughing from the darkest nights I dream of friends I never saw, of family I don’t know I’m helpless as they fade away,  try to reach them as they go Yes I know the sound of silence,  I can hear its deadly roar It echoes on the empty roads, as it stabs the padlocked door Inside the fools await their chance,  to break their bonds and shout But muzzled songs cannot disturb, when nothing can come out I have heard the sound of silence,  In the cold and damp and rain Creeping past the ones who flee,  To escape the faceless pain Invisible it haunts my steps,  as I cross the cobblestone Attempting to connect again,  to no longer be alone Yes I know the sound of silence,  it resounds throughout the halls Deafening the people there, who ignore the prophets calls A...

Teardrop A teardrop rolls down from my eye A shattered diamond's gleam The single pearl, its ghostly glow The fragment of my dream And lost amid the sapphire Is the one that stands alone For across the sea of ruby He is very far from home That teardrop now rolls down my cheek That diamond's whole again That pearl's single no longer And that dream is on the mend And in that sea of sapphire I stand alone no more For across that sea of ruby It's now better than before

The Looking Glass Forgone are the conclusions drawn, in hasty disarray The teardrops of an anarchist, in deceit just melt away Foreboding tremors so unsure, trudge over the morass As splinters form across the pane, right through the looking glass Now close your eyes as you descend into the sacred space Unburden your desires there, if you can see inside your face A kaleidoscope awaits your chance, be it red or blue or green Just be advised, with one false step, you may fall to the ravine For the frailty of the impetus, that fleeting buoyancy Will serve to offer up a pause, try to solicit clemency So here the maze begins to break, underneath the curse As you surmise that fool is gold, but should that make it worse For the answers to questions asked, stay elusive all the same And are you just a clueless pawn, in this twisted backwards game

Whiter Sands The waves that collide by the oceans great side Reminds me of the day when time did not die And the sand that sparkles whiter than snow Brings to mind of a time when you did not have to know We would stroll through the lane beneath poplar and oak And when the occasion would call I’d light up a smoke You would trek over mountains, I over hills And the wolves out at night would give us the chills And we’d sit out night and gaze up at the stars Together we cherished the love that was ours And the fire burns low and the embers would hiss I would lean over and give you a kiss And the moon would shine bright as our heads would droop low And you’d wake up once or twice as the ravens would crow And the owls would hoot as the fox would draw near It would wink at us both and you’d shed a tear But then they came from afar on that fateful day With their swords and their drums looking for play They stumbled across our roundabout place Alas ...