The Aspiring Bard

Bronzy bells that chime no more, Rusted bands that bound a door, And lichen slowly crawling, Like a sea's resistless tide, Lapping forward, rock by rock, Up the walls on every side. Slow decay of bleaching bone, Ringed all 'round by crumbling stone, Death is singing them to sleep. Lain at rest in hallowed sod, Priors, monks, their work complete, Slumber in the peace of God. Wake not to my careful tread As I walk across your bed. Wake not to the happy lark, Or the gently stirring breeze As it whispers, soft and low, Your old secrets to the trees.

Disclaimer: This poem should not be taken as a statement about my views on life. It is not neccessarily about me.  Secret, silent, Private and secure, My place to hide away. Far from the madness we call life And the rush of each new day. Dewdrops sparkling, Jewels in the grass, And a grey mist drifting Conceals me from a heedless world   Where good and bad are shifting. Mixing, blending, Everything is grey. Monochrome is 'in' now, The world has said 'conform or else' But my spirit will not bow. Resting, hiding, 'Til I have the strength To stand up and say 'no'. Someday I will be brave enough To go against the flow.

Big brown eyes, Rimmed by thick lashes Bloated belly, And a hernia Lovely mouth, With a gentle curve Curly black hair, Falling out in patches Two bare feet, Coated in dust And a little hand Holding mine.

Somewhere... The trees are greening, Buds are swelling, And birds are rejoicing In gentle winds And cloudless skies. Somewhere... New life is forming And pushing out Of moist, brown earth. Daffodils and crocuses Reaching toward the sun. Somewhere... The world is shaking free Of winter's grip And being renewed By sunshine And gentle rains. But here... I sit Under foreign stars And watch a dieing year Wane with the moon.

How I envy Your smug shell Of security! Convinced Of your invulnerability As you live your simple life. My own shell Has been broken. I can no longer believe That security is found In physical things. Suddenly, Comfort zones Are part of the past As I am pushed out of one life And into another.

Oh, how I want a silent place Where I can pour my troubled soul Out in shining tears beneath the starlight. Away from the uncaring ears Of a falsely joyful world Where smiles matter more than being real. With stifled sobs my heart is sore Oh, for the luxury of tears! To cry, and find some healing in my pain.

Small lights Shining far below, Afloat in a sea of darkness. Beacons guiding Toward new adventures.