Canto Two ~ It is dawn of the morning following.

Battle has ended, but the storm has not. Amidst the destruction common to combat's aftermath, a squeak of wagon wheels heralds the entrance of a small band. Three strange individuals, as unlike each other as three could be, come seeking those who yet remain alive upon the field.

the window full of bright
I watch the birds hover
and slide from view
the traffic waiting for the light
and I catch the colour
of your hue
the calm serenity of you

the coffee rich I sip and taste
the hours watch
I must keep haste
the quick exam your beauty
based
the pale flow
hair held by bow

away and from the shop I walk
and listen to the ravens talk
and place this moment
under lock
for rainy days
and thought filled ways

Nature's words.

The firs and pines they speak
their wind tossed branches
wave their words
across the miles of lake
to echo in the firmament
up high
where skylarks fly
and birds of prey they wait
to spy the mouse and vole
far down below

I'm a bitch
Jump in feet first
and think later.

Volatile witch 
quick to anger,
Curse and fight.

Someone attacks me 
they live to regret It
they will never forget it.

Filled with self loathing
Brimming with remorse,
Overflowing with regret.

Not to proud to admit
When I'm wrong,
Even when my foots in my mouth.

there is no cure
for this melodrama
there is blood on my fingers
where i touched your wounds,
you said we all have them
and some are well-hidden
some follow us with hound-dog eyes
inconsolable and lonely for his master,

the spirit of the wind
shakes the dream catcher
halfway to paradise

the parchment of this poem,
an unspoken sin
that catches fire,
our ashes rising,
sing.

The flame in me
Which burns
Endlessly
Is about to be quenched
Awaiting my need
Is my love

On wings of gossamer
I fly like the birds
That migrate home
After winters cold
To the warmth
That touches me
Deep within my
Soul

Our love is a volcano
Erupting
Taking us beyond
The highest
Chakra
And holding us
In bliss

Unripened fears
obscurred by misty, future tears

everblurring visions
of what I hope will soon happen to me;

daunted passions
clouded windows, and myriad "jarred" doors.

By my own admissions,
how can I know for sure that, a dream realized will console me?

Unlikely-like personified!
Guess who joined me in my realm!?!
The "lass" from Impressionatomy
has returned to overwhelm.

These days it doesn't take too much
for me to end up all "twitter-twirl",
I'm known in these parts for ruining topics
when talking to, or in front of a girl!

Who could even say, "why" she'd return
maybe last time seemed like, fun!
She's either brave, or awful dumb
most others would've turned to run!

peppermint pole spirals

"open
three chairs
no waiting"

"who's next?"

doesn't matter
the old guys like hanging around

politicians to tear up
wagers to concoct
old stories to embellish
jokes to repeat
even some gossip now and then
and obituaries
lots of them
bragging rights
tall tales
and damned lies

no woes though
men don't "talk"

He keeps to himself
A stranger in his own skin
Wearing society’s rejection
As a winter coat

He spits out the taste
Of sour failure
Awaiting the moment
To spread his wings
Out of this nightmare
That seems to
Never end

He writes nightly
Until his journal
Runs out of pages

He listens
As people call him
Awkward

His room is a sanctuary
That plays host
To Creativity’s offspring