The Incendiary

Words can change a nation, but still ruin an individual.

Embers of the citadel
Lie beneath my chariot of truth.
It burnt to the ground in a day
Every antiquity, every modernity, lost.

The gilted wheels turn,
Whisking the ashes into a frenzy
That's not too dissimilar
To the one incited by your passion.

The charcoaled remains are your doing
And that passion of yours is virulent.
It is overcoming, intoxicating,
And to succumb to it feels so good.

The passion - poison - is an incendiary,
Coarse in my veins.
Cascades of venom empower me
Like your flames that took the citadel.

The ashen fatality beneath my chariot
Is what I am destined for,
For rushes of poison escape from my insides out
Until I am hollow, too, amongst this emptiness.

Nothing gives you strength of these measures
Except the infusion of toxicity such as this;
But the passion is the chariot to truth, to vivid reality
And all, even I, fall victim to its poison with time:

                                                I will burn.

Maître de langue

Someone else taking your words so that they have the strength to say their own can be their greatest downfall.

Down the long-lost winding path we venture,
A course we choose without an end in sight -
So we hope for one. A wild conjecture
Blinds our eyes as if we're shrouded in night.
What one looks for is lost in translation
As words have no value except with you:
Commander, maître de langue, frustration
That my value to you is false, untrue.
Hearing your footsteps echo, your stride strong;
I know you shan't wait so listen to me.
Just mark these words, because I am not wrong -
Watch down this path, it winds inside you, see.
        It is possible to lose yourself there -
        I already have. Please, take note, and take care.

The Broken Hourglass

Happiness - the only thing that can't hide in the dark.

Glass shattered on the floor,

The remains of our time.

Everything was clockwork,

All entirely sublime

Until right now, the end.

"Unexpected," you'd say.

"Have no regrets, be strong."

I hear your voice replay

Even if you're long gone.

And it hurts, but to see

The silent pain you feel

Inflicts much more on me.

It would be so selfish

To ask you to revert

Your choice. I care too much

To add to all your hurt.

One day it won't be raw

But for now I hurt, too.

I keep falling to tears -

Oh, to be friends with you...

But I accept your wish

And would not try to change

Your mind, our time. Guard the

Joy, so real, without range.

 

In my hands lay your strength

To go and find our fate

But now glass is shattered

And sand strewn. I so hate

That our time has ran thin,

Long-lost amongst the sands;

At least I can treasure

One last smile at your hands.

An Introduction

Things like this are always so incredibly awkward, so straight to it. I've always struggled to say what I feel (mostly because I mumble or just can't say certain phonemes) and bottling things up isn't very good for a harmonious soul. I started writing to be able to say exactly what I mean and poetry lets me do this. I don't claim to be a poet laureate or think of myself as the next Shakespeare, but I like to write and think sharing would be good. So I hope you enjoy (and if you don't please tell me because I'd rather not be embarrassing myself (on a serious note, any critique goes (within reason))). Read away...