Melissa Weaver

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From within the dusty frame
quietly you call my name
the faded image of us both,
laughing in the rain.
The dust obscures the picture view
yet I know I am holding you
as the lightening flashes behind us
and the rain falls around us.
The portrait still on the mantle place
making show of your smiling face
to all who wander past.
The memories trapped behind the glass
still haunt me every time I pass
that dusty wooden frame.

Words

darkness, fleeting blackness
as thy voice i hear.
the words pour from thy mind
do they come from thy heart as well?

Fragmented

fragmented pieces
lie in the dust
casting reflections
all around.
glowing eerily
in the foggy haze
being muted
of all emotion.
as the sun begins
to rise
as the shadows fade
fog disperses
before one's eyes
revealing a new
facade.

Reaching Out

Reaching out one single hand
To grasp what is left of myself.
The person I was is slipping
Through my fingers as ash and dust.
I'm reaching out with my heart
To hear the words you say
But though your lips are moving
It is the words I cannot comprehend.
I'm trying to hold on to
That figure from my dream
That wraith-like creature
The one who looks like me.
The vast difference between us
Lies in the land where it dwells,
Making it but a momentary shadow
Of who I really am.
The reflection in the mirror
Has gone black and distorted
But I am reaching out all the same
To wipe the tear from its cheek.

Faded

peeling back the fading grey
the veil of white consumes all.
shadows cast and shadows dropped
dance upon dry ground.
skeleton hands reaching forth
grasping upon crimson tears.
droplets of the reddened mists
soaking in the tide.
darkness blanketing the moon
a curtain sliced across the sky.
oceans soaking up the dew
shrivel in the heated wrath.
passion searing through the veins
erupting in tremendous bouts
cannon fire, singing loud
the mystified hymn of a darkened land

Sweet November

Your footprints are already fading
the ocean washes them from clear view.
In my mind they are there forever,
implanted upon the beaches of my soul.
No tidal waves may cover them,
no winds dry their existance.
Your fingerprints are discernable.
Obvious on the glass pallette that is me.
The paints that you placed there mixing,
combining to form a sunrise.
A new being, a new beauty brought forth
because you took the time to mix it,
to paint upon this blank canvas
and leave your impression upon it.
The images fade from my memory
time covers them in age
yet they never leave, they are forever
embedded in the deepest recesses,
showing the craft of the artist
who created undeniable beauty so lasting.

Ponderings by Moonlight

I feed my fears
to the flickering shadow
the moonlight guiding my feet.
the words entrance ghosts
upon the windy eve.
The reverbeating footsteps
the sound of my own voice
slicing the silence
like the shattering of glass.
The stars winking out above me
night turning to the morn.
The footsteps never ceasing
as still I wander on.
What am I to find here
in this place of quite madness?
Thoughts torrent through my brain
where shall the answers appear?
I sing unto the moonlight
until it begins to fade
the crescent winking out
above the horizon.
I scream unto the starlight
is anyone listening?
Yet the only sound is my footstep
and the tinkling of quiet laughter
from the nightshade
dancing upon the breeze

Dandelion

Dancing free upon the wind
seeds of the future loosed
from those of the past.
Twisted by the winds of time
fragmented pieces of one whole
floating fast away.
Separated, isolated, segregated
no longer complete.
Storms rising in the tide
tear the silent curtain
as the pieces of the future
collide to form something old.
Bleakness, vastness, emptiness
covering the ages
no one ever learns.
The dark becomes darker
as the future gathers near
and the scattered seeds are sown
with unrest.
Like a dying dandelion in the tempest.

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The soft moonlight upon the beach
The ocean lapping o'er.
The gentle caress of a windy wing
Whispering forevermore.

Laughing heart, that of a child
Awakening from sleep
A freedom from entombment long
Beneath facade so deep.

Siren sing upon the wind
Dance upon this place
Take to flight enchanting song
Entwine with thy embrace.

A gentle, slow metamorphasis
A changing of the tide
Ever flowing while sea billows
Weaving a lifetime; there abide.

Maddening Night

Look past this futile madness
through the depths of sympathy.
Read not, these words etched in stone
these runes of hidden lore.
Become ye lost in this darkness
as shadows cling to light.
Hearken not to this voice of sadness
that floats to thee so silent.
Harsh whispers through the tempest
as shrouded angels dance.
Seek not the ancient days of yore
nor the star-crossed tragedy.
'Tis but a complete circle
of days gone passing by.
As one blinds themselves from truths,
as a child turns its head to cry.
Wake not in quiet evening
when feathr'd mist enshrouds.
Dance within the darkness
upon the eve dew'd grass.
Hearken unto heaven's song
O! Tune so melancholy!
Evaporate O! Mists that seeth
from this bond do flee!
For morning once again shall come
Reflecting thy halo of light
entrapping all the silence,
Be gone, O! Maddening night.

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Fragile tomorrows
they shatter to dust.
All emerald plans fade away.

Stained Velvet

Stained velvet ribbons
within deep crimson tides.
Stained to deep scarlet
within every ebb.
Coloured with darkness
lost within flows
woven within dampness
covered within shadow.

Glass Perfection

Reflecting back the morning rays,
a prism casting rainbowed haziness,
transparent to the eve.

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Crimson in its beauty sleep,
the lily fading to the deep
while mortal tongues in pain do weep
the passing of the rose.
And such in silent mortal sorrow
hearken to the new tomorrow
the joys that none can buy or borrow
the whiteness of the dove.
For its own beauty fading fast
simply reminescing of the past
a scarlet colour cannot last
the rose, it mourns its own.
Lo' upon the heavens bright
silken wings beat o'er the night
gilded by the mulled moonlight
the feather of the dove.
The peace and beauty now combined
the essence never more to find,
the crafted beauty, left behind
the art of peace and love.

Pathetic

P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C

Words of doubt that roll from your mouth.
Lies that you hold fast upon your heart.
Fears that suffocate your mind.
All so pitiful, all so pathetic.
F-R-I-G-H-T-E-N-E-D

Being alone forever
Shivering in the darkness
Never showing your face to the world
Hiding your heart from another.

I-N-S-E-C-U-R-E

Ashamed of the thoughts you hold to yourself
Tormented by the emotions from which you hide.
Lingering upon the murky banks of doubt
Crying in the darkness so as not to be seen.

L-O-N-E-L-Y

Saddened by the way you see yourself
Terrified by the emptiness inside
Mystified by the hurting of your heart
Emptied by the loneliness that you feel.

Spinning

Circles.
a never-ending bond.
Circumference.
never broken on its own.
Sphere.
always spinning round.
Heart.
Never touching the ground.
Ancient.
knowledge beyond belief.
Fragile.
Shattering in your hand.
Lonely.
Quiet in this fright.
Happy.
Beaming in the light.
Satin.
Softest to your touch.
Kinship.
All suffering, never to surrender.

Forget Me Not

When I am gone -- .forget.me.not.
Think upon me every once in a while
Forget not my laughter or my voice
Forget not the very lines of my smile.

When I am gone -- .forget.me.not.
Think upon the days of youthful bliss
Forget not the scraped knees, bare footprints
Forget not the tearstreaked child's face.

When I am gone -- .forget.me.not.
Think upon me on your darkened days
Forget not that happiness is a treasure
Forget not that I would have wanted you to smile.

In Memoriam, my Grandfather, August 30, 2002

Abstract

The paint has splattered upon the walk
As dropped from out the artist's hand
A mural of colour emassing forth -
consuming all where it land.
So what is this portrait to be exact?
What are these words and these shapes?
But the result of a dropped brush
And the camera angle takes.
The massing move of colour -
The gristly work of art
But a dropped paint can
From an empty, sullen heart.

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so you sit and write alone
and then re-read the words.
you cry upon the dust specks
and shed blood upon the sand.
silly how mankind hurts
and slaughters one by one
silly how the laughter fades
just after it's begun

Amidst the Broken Tears

Pounding waves and numbing hearts,
a flash of light amidst the sands
interrupts the bleakness of minds a
nd slays the hopes, and all dream
of something more, something beyond.
Corrupted froth from breathless lungs
and passion fleeting from idiot minds
forgotten by all lighter pathways,
from those who seek yet seldom find
happiness of the heart.
Amidst the darkness rarely lights
the rarer gem of joy and peace
and gather now to crumple pieces
of unfinished puzzle mats and posters
with crinkled edges and tears galore.
So passions unbending realight
the fires of the hate and crime
which never cease and never cry
amidst the broken tears.

Outside my Window

The landscape out side my window
Is barren, hill and glen.
The landscape outside my window
Is the same as that within.

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