A Few Poems

[Scooterly]

Finally took the time to sift through some of my files! Hope you like them. And for the record, we are reading Shakespeare's MacBeth in my literature class so if these are a little dark . . . I apologize . . .

Humanity

We can perform a lifetime’s worth of crime.
Does anyone ever see?
Are we ever truly blind?
It’s easy to ignore. . .
But the guilt-

Drags-

On.

Our mouths can tell a thousand tales.
Does anyone really care?
Are we truly even listening?
It’s easy to cast away. . .
But the thought-

Forever-

Lingers.

Everyone has a voice, a belief they say is strong.
Do they ever get very far?
Do any of us really know our language?
It’s easy to say we do. . .
But the words-

Never-

Come.

We constantly let ourselves fail.
Worthless shadows,
In silver mist.
They say we have a soul. . .
But the heart-

Is-

Gone.

Hauntingly Yours

Turn my bones into diamonds,
And my ashes into gold,
And take this empty heart of mine
To store your endless treasure horde.

Had a I glass I could hand you my reflection,
And you could use it well,
To mock me relentlessly until the morn,
And into evening until my face became your own.

Would you take my finger tips,
And then my very hair,
And turn them into harp strings,
To pluck and play with care?

Perhaps my eyes would cherish you,
Sitting as stones upon your desk,
To look and gaze, and curse and bless,
With every ounce of mocking jest?

The tongue and teeth you wrenched from me,
Could make you a barb and nails,
And you could wield it and swing it and crash it around,
And create your own blood curdling wails.

Or would you wrench the soul of me,
And place it on display?
Would you let the world see,
The actions of your play?

I think the answer here, lies somewhere in your guilt,
As everything is so easy,
To touch and tear away,
For what do you need of a harp or victim for display?

You are proud of nothing; you face the world alone,
Waiting for some foolish dream,
To shine and call you along,
Like the Piper’s melody, for children unassuming.

Piper! Piper! Are you a coward?
Do you whimper now, and cringe?
Pluck the harp, stare until you die,
But from the glass it is you who is stares straight back.

Haunting gaze, ruthless voice!
Don’t you wish it all away?
So did I, once long ago, when innocence was mine,
But you only wished to see me die.

So where am I now? I live in your voice!
See me now? Gazing through your eyes!
The sand beneath your fingers, those ashes of mine,
Are as gold as the hair in your harp strings, dear boy!

The shadow of you, the shadow of me!
My bones are your wealth,
My eyes ceaseless stone,
And I sit upon your desk, never forgotten, never alone.

So what will you do, my murderer, my love?
What will you take with you, when you rest upon the bed,
Where my scent lingers on, and by body once lay?
What will you do oh murderer? Oh love?

Will you turn my bones into diamonds?
And my ashes into gold?
Will my empty heart take on,
Your endless treasure horde?

I gave up long ago, dear heart,
To give you a bright new life,
For you thought that taking mine
Would save us from this plight.

But now I rest, within your mind,
Behind your eyes, and at your side,
A quiet reminiscence, a ghost of dead white rose,
And I’ll be with you forever, wherever you go.

For I’m loyally yours,
Your loving, devoted,
Dearly beloved!
I’m forever hauntingly yours.

[Scooterly]

And just another shorter one.

The Blood is Strong

Beat oh drums of war! And sing your battle cry,
Your blood pulses through your veins like a river bold,
Your heart is strong, young warrior.
Your heart is strong.

March onto the glen! Raise your voice in challenge,
Sweat beads down your face like raindrops on a pale bird’s wing,
Your will is strong, young warrior.
Your will is strong.

Aim your bow! And let it sing with reason,
Your soul rises to your heart like an eagle to the sky,
The heritage in your blood is strong, young warrior,
The blood is strong.