Diamond Dust

I watch as diamond dust

falls to the ground.

Softly and silently,

beautiful to the eyes

but chilling to the touch.

It’s scintillating shimmer

is out of place

with the dead trees around it.

The wind whispers in my ears,

nipping at my toes

as it blows into the distance,

leaving as quickly as it arrived.

Only a faint reminder is there

that it even existed.

The frosty air fills my lungs.

The snow freezes my bare feet

as I trudge along

this icy path.

I may slip,

and I may fall.

But this ice ignites passion,

and I will get up.

I will always get up.

Winter seems

immortal, infinite, endless.

But I know this isn’t true,

for in the divine desert of diamonds

lies a vivid patch of emerald.

Although feeble and frail,

it will outlast this boreal winter.

For when snow melts,

it is not water that is made.

It is spring.

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Casino

As I stand in front of the grandest doors
With nothing but a coin in my pocket
And the remains of a soul that I store
I enter with my cowardly courage

Blinding lights reflect off of sequin coats
Smoke mixed with cheap perfumes cloud my wisdom
And, as the alcohol runs down my throat
On the board is where I place my last crumb

I thought I saw the future in those cards
I thought that the dice roll was my heartbeat
I thought that the dealer was a blessed bard
I thought I could sit in the devil’s seat

Those gambling chips have become my hit
The scent of cash a high blessed by the gods
And yet when I stop, I know I should quit
Yet I still ask myself, “What are the odds?”

All in vain, I try again: once, twice, thrice
This is a gamble; now I roll the dice

 

Man of the Wind

My first kiss was with a man of the wind
Swain swaying with my soul in a sweet sensation of serenity
My ears caressed by the warmth of his breath
The heart’s emotions overriding the mind’s rationality
And his lips of air sweep against mine
With the force of hurricanes spiraling in the sky

Above me clouds speckled the sky
Below me was the wind
And in between fluttered this love of mine
Yet it was a deceptive illusion, this serenity
Because I loved with my heart’s emotions rather than my mind’s rationality
And my ears could not perceive the words under his breath

Hitched in my throat rested my breath
Frantically searching for his eyes amidst the misty sky
The thunder striking my senses, scattering rationality
Where had he gone to, this man of the wind,
And could we not seek together for serenity?
This love, was it only mine?

Our hearts had intertwined, that how he stole mine
Fabricating fantasies in a single breath
His temper created tempest rather than serenity
And I, as fools often do in love, could not see beyond the serenity
Unable to see beyond the misty veil of delusions, I was swept into the sky
The hole where my heart could not deny the passage of bitter winds
“Yet are you not to shoulder partial blame?” inquires rationality

Because Love is not just blinded infatuation; it requires rationality
He lead me down a misguided path, but I walked there with these feet of mine
Intoxicated by the illusion of independence, I forget that he is the wind
He is the breeze beneath my wings; my movement is dictated by his breath
And, at his impulsive inclination I could be dropped from the sky
The sweet scent of slaughter becoming my serenity

Love is a balance of shambles and serenity
A puzzle in which you try and fit emotions into rationality
Highs that can send you skyrocketing into the sky
Contrasting lows damning this fragility of mine
And it last until death do you part when you release of your final breath
This is love; steel trying to conform to the whims of the wind

The tension building between us, it can never truly be mine
It can only be shared like two lungs share a breath
This is why he vanished, this man of the wind

Raining

Plip, plop; the sky must be crying
Lip trembling in an attempt to stay bright
Whip up those clouds to be radiant and airy
Slip and you ruin everyone else’s delight

Rain pouring from the blacken firmament above
“Restrain your selfish sorrows,” chants the sky
Pain never goes unnoticed by the mother below her
Terrain mutters to the heavens, “Sometimes it’s okay to cry.”

Remorseful Determination

Youth is but the invisible hand of a desperate lover
Desperately attempting to grasp our hand in intertwine our fingers together
Bitterly smiling as the ghost of their hand wisps through yours
Distant eyes gazing into a world where this love could be true
Persisting against the ever flowing river of time, they reach for your hand
Affirming the wretched reality by vainly reaching out again and again
Corporeal Romeo and his ethereal Juliet
Torn seams ripping the fabric of reality
Which cloaked their bared back from the frigid bite of winter
Watching from a distance, prowling closer in the cover of shadows
The blade of crescent moons glinting ominously under the stars
Exchanging the misty hand of Time with his own skeletal one
Directing him elsewhere down the winding staircases that lead to his domain
Efficiently, despite the slight twinge of remorse echoing in his hollow chest
For perplexing Mortality had no heart, yet it had a mind
And Time’s trembling knees fell to the ground, unable to move


Hello! I just wanted to mention something about this poem. Although this may seem like a free verse poem, it is in fact a structured poem.  If you take the first letter in the first line, the second letter in the second line, the third letter in the third line, and so on, it will spell out a secret line. When counting, do not include anything other than the letters, i.e. spaces and apostrophes. Thank you so much for reading my writing. It really means everything to me, more than I can put into words, and I’m a writer. If you have any comments or critiques, please do not hesitate to leave them!

A Writer’s World

Eyes skimming across the surface of the text
Awaiting for that depth in which my soul can plunge into
A level of intricacy that can delightfully perplex
A sapling planted in words consciously grew
Until a world of entangled complexity emerged
Societies built upon the cornerstone of letters
Cultures worshiping their scriptures of ink
Thoughts both harmoniously and incongruously merged
A universe where words collide, for worse or for better
A universe that forces both the reader, and the writer, to think