Mechanicism

Dark and doubting,
Deaf and shouting,
All our glory set ablaze.

Pinions spinning,
Cog teeth grinning,
Somewhere in the foggy haze.

Smog concealing,
Moon revealing,
Paths ahead to darker daze.

Feet will follow
Till the morrow
When each regrets the role he plays.

©2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved.

Soul

The soul, a flame,
A thing untamed.
Wild in its wistful ways.
It kisses faith,
Or brushes sin;
Tries to fly on every whim.
Writes a story within time,
Makes a mark,
Or careless rhyme.
Lost, eternal, blooming thing;
Immortal part
Of every being.
Shimmer deep or glitter dark,
Fallen far,
Creator's spark.

Copywrite@2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved.

The Chase

Twist and twirl,
a tilt-a-whirl,
The colors brightly dancing.
On surface of the water’s edge,
Rip’ling ledge,
Sun and moon
Romancing.

Ever chase,
They hotly race,
And fill the sky with wonder.
Through black they cut, the dawn and dusk.
His starry musk,
Splits her mind
Asunder.

Going down
And rising up,
Their chariots press on.
Till wolves consume the lovers two;
They burst anew.
Cry aloud
Then gone.

©2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved.

Deep

A world enraged,
Their skin to prick
With needles sharper
Than this wit.
Dull and crumbled,
Dreary screams
With ties the blind
The time of streams.
Follies sweet
to taste and touch,
Like paper walls
That speak too much.
Gossip spreads
A wild fire,
Anger feeds such great desire.
The buzzing louder,
In our heads
Draws us to our musty beds.
Somewhere deep we hide our sin,
Beneath our masquerade of skin.

©2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved.

Dagger

Captured by your wand'ring eyes
As if somehow I find myself
Deep beyond the glassy orbs
That pierce me through my metaphors.
 All which renders useless words
A grand disguise.
Quietly intruding on
My mind's long distant reaching shores
Whilst the mad'ning tumult roars.

Disquieting the mortal's tongue
With thoughts that call out from the deep:
"Sleep now, sweet one, lest you dream".
The fairies scream beneath the waves;
Sea foam beds on which they played
Turn treacherous and grow beguiled
At the sight of Human Child.

Long silence fills the salty air,
Casting shadows on the moon.
The beauty of a dying star
Is lost upon the blazoned tomb.

Waiting in the crystal stillness
For ice that hangs on every breath;
Creeping soft along the earth,
Here stalks the crimson woman's death.

But dagger carried at her side
Will still the heart within its chest.

©2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved.

Stories

Fires on the open page
Of books galore,
Of thoughts ablaze.
Burning words throughout the age
That cast the land in eerie light.

By embers lit such stories live
In eyes of mind,
On lips of red.
The life of words to freely give
And shape of dreams for poorer men.

Power of the flame divides
To snare or free
Who lives or dies.
Words upon the night winds ride,
Calling all who play the fiend.

Such sirens we, who light the fire
To draw them in
With raw desire
For lie and truth, the latter higher
Upon the pyre’s gaudy hearth.

Enchanted threads of word and rhyme
Casting fingers,
Long and reaching,
Deconstructing what confines
Our minds to dark and wordless dawn.

©2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved .

Nymph

Dust lies on the monarch wings
That rise from out her gentle back.
Hands that grip the stuff of dreams,
Sitting folded in her lap.
Sunset hair shot through with gold
Bound by flowers red and black.

Softer steps than light itself,
Her feet tread silent in the dusk.
Creature caged to be forgott’n,
Captured by their splintered trust;
While sunlight plays behind her eyes,
The silver confine melts to rust.

A smile paints her icy lips,
She taunts the shadows with her thoughts
And laughs as they begin to stir
With all her tears and clever knots.
A gypsy’s dance and then she’s gone
Lost somewhere deep beneath the plot.

©2012, Michelle Lowe. All Rights Reserved.

The Poet's Mead

Sorely bent upon frustration
Moon alights, such conflagration.
Chill their souls and light their eyes
With lanterns full of silky cries.

Rivers run with sapling ink
While dwarves forge tales of chain and link.
Edify the hammer’s prose
Staccato myth of ancient fold.

Stories run as thick as blood,
As clear as ice, or black as mud.
Such ships as sail upon our minds
A Skaldic wind may drive the tides.

Countless wild dreams afoot
On page, in pen, or ancient book.
A falcon cloak or eight hoofed steed:
The children of the Poet’s Mead.

©2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved. 

Ghosts: Elegy For Earth

Grating voices, ghosts that cry.
Watch the innocent bleed and die.
A poor man's fight, a rich man's war.
Unending night, all life abhorred.

Hatred feeds a growing lust,
The broken lay beneath the dust.
Behind the storm the sun drips red,
Black curtains fall to mourn the dead.

Perfection of the overthrown:
The strength of man till now unknown.
From somewhere in the dark they scream,
A world of waste that stands unclean.

©2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved.