Poetry from Alwayslooking
{ Firestorm } { The Bond } { Story-Teller's Art } { The Dream }
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The fires within me first burned bright
When death came on the wing
And ruin slept in all I loved
And hate began to sing.
Banked down now, I feel the heat:
A wicked song comes near.
It takes so little to relight
The tinder of my fear.
I look to you, my healing bard
To snuff the twisted flame.
Your love gives me humanity
And helps my fires to tame.
Yes, here lies balm to cool my heart
And soon nothing remains
But the smoldering embers of my soul
As the inferno wanes
{ The Bond } { The Story-Teller's Art }
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When you are far from me I find
My stories will not spin,
And I cannot think clearly 'til
You're in my sight again.
Oh, when did you o'rtake my heart?
'Twas gradual, that I vow
That you became a soulmate, bound
To all that I am now.
I did not wish this bond of iron.
It complicates our world.
Yet, when I step inside your arms,
Our wanderers' sails furled,
And bands of steel surround my heart
And tighten at your voice,
I look into your eyes and know
There was no other choice.
{ Firestorm } { The Story-Teller's Art }
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There is no school can teach a story-teller how to speak
For words must come from deep inside
And anyone who tries to hide
And still tell tales to catch the soul
Is counted rather weak.
As one considered worth the praise of being titled "bard"
I oft have turned to stories where
The azure eyes and raven hair
Of she who taught my heart to sing
Become my strong trump card.
Yes, passion is the soul of art, that is, if art be true.
And when I speak with flaming eyes,
Dramatic gesture, seeming wise,
Be sure that, though the tale be rich
The passion's thanks to you.
{ Firestorm } { The Bond } { The Dream }
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(for L.S.)
I waken in the morning to a vision of your eyes,
The way your tresses curl around your face,
That smile, which, when it shows itself, is always a surprise,
And makes my pulse inevitably race.
It may be just a dream of love I carry in my heart
But every time you're near I catch my breath.
And if you ever look at me the way I look at you
My soul will be your own until my death.
{ Firestorm } { The Bond } {The Story-Teller's Art }
{ The Call } { Top of Page}
Harshness once was all my world
Teaching coldness to my soul
Acquisition ruled my heart:
An icy place, as black as coal.
The siren call of power and fear
The abject look in unknown eyes
Blinded me to bleeding hell
Deafened me to deathly cries.
It calls me still, that song of hate.
It's memories stir me to the core:
The promise of unbridled strength,
The whispered wish for more...more...
The only peace lies in your eyes.
The only rest lies in your arms:
A sanctuary from the pull
Of sinful deeds and fell alarms.
Oh, I would not reclaim that world
Which called my heart to hate and fear,
But only have the strength to love
As long as you, my love, are here.
{ Firestorm } { The Bond } { The Story-Teller's Art }
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