Tag: dagger

Dagger (day 2359)

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She sailed away into the sea
Cold as darkness could ever be
In one hand a compass led her on
The other a dagger for those done wrong.

She cursed the air from time to time
Forgetting where she laid her locket
A secret of heart she dared not share
A lover who danced no more.

It happened in darkness, dead of night
When two white doves flew the nest
Softly did the dagger slip
Into the ribs of what dared her on.

Some nights as fever woke her up
Swaying in her seafaring hammock
She saw a vision: reminisce
A Good-by kiss slipped out her lips.

And so in darkness the North Sea Queen
Sail set down for evening dormant
Watched the full moon reflect longing
A name she called no more.

North Sea Queen VIX by Doreen Broers

Sharpening Stone (day 2326)

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Upon a knee
Our warrior was blasphemed
Rose in teeth
Cut down
And consecrated
Upside down
By a dagger
Ten inches long
Through the girth
Of his left rib
Icy reverie ensued
From the coldest of hands
From the North Sea Queen.

Upon a knee
Blood thickly rolled
Like dreadful winter freeze
All words lost
In the eyes of our warrior
Who at long last
Veil removed
Saw truth
Darkness in the heart
Ice in the touch
Of the North Sea Queen.

Upon a knee
A heart slowly broke
Glossed over
With ice
A deep cold
For within this
Intimate hearth
Exposed, revealed
A sharpening stone
Ancient and froze
And our warrior’s sadness
Frigid
Clasped
By the North Sea Queen.

North Sea Queen II by Doreen Broers
North Sea Queen II by Doreen Broers (ig)

One Thousand Pieces (day 1909)

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Desire fills my heart into one thousand pieces
Memories, unfurling as if eyes were closing tightly
Around minute memories and love letters.
I’ve concluded the end is near,
My hands have become wrinkled and so sore with work.
I will leave a little letter sitting open
Beside the night table
Where all of my wishes will be laid out in bullet point form
Segmenting all I wished I had made, yet un-done.
Do not tarry long where footsteps make no noise,
Wild animals will moan at your sound
And terrors of your heart shall flutter on by
As leaves in the wind make passing comments.
And my waning crescent turns towards me
To reach it’s dagger-like fingers
Deep inside my once well lit thoughts, cavernous,
And lay the sign of Hermes upon my back
To mark the gathering of one thousand pieces.

Slender Daggers (day 1841)

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I want a girl who wears black eye liner
As thick as her lipstick, black.
Who wears emotional sleeves in
Long, slender daggers
Piercing my emotional state
With a heart so green
I have a hard time understanding
Where my ideas have gone
In a heart, forever long
And edging ever closer to my slender daggers.

Steam (day 1683)

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All that’s left is a silhouette
Screaming out in bursts of steam,
Each echo, forever damped.
Each heartbeat, forever cold
And solemnly lifting this black trailing gown
Lightly off Lucifer’s cold ground,
Frozen unevenly like ghastly daggers
So elegantly strapped
To my heaving chest in triumph.
And so fades thy vision.

Mine Own Dagger (day 1674)

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Dagger’s claws
At my shadow –
Cast upon the wall,
This silent story
Unfolded from
The backseat of a
Four horse pulled carriage.
Creaking springs and
Horses hooves
Left the night full of content.
But I, macabre,
Silently went;
No companion at my side.
Yet lightly had I begun my way
When I recognized my fate:
My future was –
Decidedly –
Not within my luggage close,
But upon my back,
Mine own enemy,
Cloaked in
One thousand names
I shall speak of nevermore.

Search O’Er Lain Land (day 1590)

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Glen to glen
I’ve wandered brooks
Searching for my
Crag with a hook

Little, though
My hearts dismay
Could effort swing
Precipice lay

For o’er lain land
My hoof she ran
Like orphaned seeds
Autumn’s light breath

Dagger be given
To the laughing lady
High atop as a
Clever tight rock

For no path could be laid
No gorge to ford
No eye to twinkle
Amidst sun-lit wrinkle

Now guide thee home
Pulse in thine known
I hear the clean broom
And dear Mother’s boom

20150825 - Monashees Mushroom Picking - Ned Tobin - 19

As the Dagger Begins to Sink (day 772)

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Don’t throw away my misery as if I’ve been kindly handling your manner for years
Respect it and covet it like a well worn lawn mower, hardly spewing black smoke
And dance around it with spears and face paint while chanting god-speek
Because if you, for one single moment, think the moon will set before the deed is done
Then you’re sadly mistaken, sadly believing in mystics and chimera
Barking at the moon fully loaded for bear with a hand down your trousers
While the children of the night roll around at your feet, stretching for answers
Into the pale night skies pockmark’d rivers of darkness
Don’t let me be, standing here against the cold wall of ancient growth alone and heavily breathing
Listening for forgotten sounds to ring alert, echoing in the night
A calming sensation growing up through my spine as anxious boils over into my thoughts
When the dagger begins to sink into it’s last goodbye

Orbiting Madness (day 562)

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Relentless pursuit with a speed limit in sight
Wheels squealing and a dagger is late
Fists are for outlaws to throw in the air
After escaping the law
Running wild and free

Faster and faster the engine it screams
Red passion in madness alert calling in sirens
Perforated edge and an eruption in joy
I’ve run to the hill tops
And let it go bare

Orbiting madness that spins round and round
Full on the skull it renders little harm
Slight quickening of the pulses
Pulling at my senses
The road down isn’t long

Demons (day 531)

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Demons lurching and prowling at the innards tormenting
Disastrous thoughts compelling every movement
Keeping all personal compassion idle by unnecessary woes
Claws tearing away the fine layers of conscience
Robed with a hundred years of torment, tied at the waist

All without a yelp of terror
All in good time of faith does the burden remain
All for the surviving factions of purveyors

I have dreamed of this day
Written down in my books of faith
That record my weakest of thoughts
Together with my wisdom once preached
And demons; I have drawn your soured skin
Your scales with hair
Claws and beaks searching for the deepest dagger
Tentacles, wings, horns, and whipping tales
Growling teeth and pointed ears

Patiently awaiting this demise
There will be no more pain
The sins I demolish with faith
For tomorrow I shall rise
Without the gates of hell beckoning me
And peace will fall
Amongst the villains and saints

1480-1490 – Saint Anthony Tormented by Demons by Martin Schongauer