Inspiration

My words were blind

And my pen could only tell.

Until you opened my eyes.


They saw the black bird

With the clasping claws

Soar the crimson skies.



I morphed the words

And grabbed my pen

And I began to write.



I thank you now

For unlocking the cage

And letting my bird take flight.

Lamia

Ruby drips from your mouth

swirling betrayal in my eyes.

My face is a blanched sheet

Over the pain and the shock.



A River of Red flows from my neck.

Wet and warm to my sides.

Your frigid fingers on my wrist.

Feeling for a pulse.



The blood begins to pool

And the black starts to fade.

As guilt bleeds upon your face.

And all light bleeds from mine

Lady Isabelle and Her White Sheets

She lay upon her white sheets this morning

as the wind stirs the hangings on her bed,

Although the same wind blows across her face,

Lady Isabelle remains still.



Her Waxen skin is still untouched and flawless.

Her once bright eyes are not closed and peaceful.

Her raven hair spread across her pillow,

Like the fan she once hid those eyes behind.



Her lips have lost their rosy hue,

As have her cheeks their similar flush.

Her gown is now stained a shimmering red,

And so are her white sheets.

I, like the sun.

I stand upon a cliff, looking out on the rocky sea.

I can see the horizon in the distance and I begin to ponder.

This challenge that has met me is like the rising of the sun.

I, like the sun, must face my impending doom.



I will walk, proud with bright rays, to my enemy and meet his sword.

We will fight in the center of the sky for all the world to see.

I will fight bravely, but I cannot beat the laws of nature.

I, like the sun, will set in the west when his blade meets my heart.

The Cave

I lean against the frigid wall of the cave.

My eyes stare into the black, grasping.

I hear a drip echo against the stone.

My eyes flick toward the sound.

It is all I hear in the vast darkness,

Except my breath hitting the cold night air.

Bird

I write as a bird soars the crimson sky.

The peering eyes of my pen search for food.

They gaze upon a thought, a dream, my prey.

I swoop, and with my talons, catch the thought.

I mold and claw it 'till I reach the meat.

My beak clutches the thought with pensive force.

i spread my feather'd wings and fly away;

The blazing flames of dreams upon my back.