5 Poems by Poet Laureate Candice James

Guest Poet Candice James

Guest Poet Candice James


© Candice James, Poet Laureate


I crack the skin of the moon

In the slick black cradle of night


I bind my lips to a star

To burn off my scars

To cremate my sins

To polish the edge of this dream

And shine the tears in my eyes

To a cool blue ice


I’ve become accustomed

To dancing with torn steps

To muted songs

To singing out of key

Inside a vacuum of nerves

To swaying

Whichever way the wind blows.


In the windmills of my mind,

I exchange

Moons for stars,

Lips for eyes.

I cascade in broken sighs.

I crack the skin of the moon

In the slick black cradle of night

Searching for something lost..

Something I’ll never find.


Dead Stories

© 2012 Candice James


Dead stories

Chained to necklaces of grief,

Emerging from the dark abyss

Wash onto shores of the living.

They whisper to me

Of monoliths and pharaohs,

Minstrels and poets,

Lovers and losers.


Once alive and vibrant,

Now awakening from the endless sleep,

Silently cradled in a cosmic sea of dreams,

They wait to be born again

Into fresh new chapters,

Grasping for that first breath

Of crusty satin air,

Changing into the tight flannel

And cotton clothes of life,

Becoming living stories

Filled with familiar secrets,

Writing new beginnings and endings

Day after month after year.

Sigh after smile after tear

Imprinting the atmosphere

With inspiration, passing away,

Becoming dead stories once again.


They wait patiently in the womb of creation

For the still small length of a shortened day

In this universe of ever revolving dead stories

Waiting to be born…

Over and over again,


Lying in wait to greedily grasp

That coveted crusty satin breath of air

Once again.




In eerie shadow lands I lurk and hide

I am a hellish pawn, the devil’s pride

A midnight monster hunting flesh and blood

The greedy essence of your worst nightmare

Slowly flaying back raw skin and bone

I’ll strip your skeleton and conscience bare

I’ll crush you to the sharp knives in my chest

I am the taker of dark souls un-blest.


On any darkened foggy eerie night

I’m always near but hiding out of sight

In seedy alleys where I wait to pounce

And drink your tasty blood to the last ounce

And when the savory meal at last is done

I chase the moon and then outrun the sun


I am the undead angel bringing death

A ghoulish vacuum sucking your last breath

I am a hellish pawn, the devil’s pride

In eerie shadow lands I lurk and hide



© Candice James, Poet Laureate


I walk alone in darkness on the dim street of long shadows

A haunting cold hard evil slowly ebbs and flows.

Inside this mist and fog creeping around me

I’m touched by icy fingers and figures I can’t see.

As goose flesh rises up on the back nape of my neck

I turn around in fear and scan the street to check

For ghostly strangers in the mist who would do me harm.

I feel a bony hand clawing at my chest and arm

I hear a distant moaning murmur on the path ahead.

Inside this night of terror that reeks of death and dread

Apocalyptic premonitions in my mind begin to scream.


Approaching me with glowing eyes are thirteen demon cats

And overhead cacophonies of rabid screeching bats

A devil with sharp horns chasing me begins to gain

Up Ahead a ghoulish vampire is waiting in the lane


Paranoia’s madness unravels at the seam.

There’s no escape from bedlam, no other road to take

As hungry demons chew through the edges of this dream

But this is not a nightmare. It’s real and I’m wide awake.

I hear a distant ring of angels clamouring for my sake

But still too far away to do battle at my side.

I feel the crush of gnashing teeth and waiting flesh collide.

Now paralyzed, I cannot move and wonder if I’ve died.

It’s then I finally realize my body’s passed away.

I rise in vapor and become a misty shape of gray

Co-joined with cold hard evil as it ebbs and flows.

I am the darkened shadow on the dead street of long shadows.




© 2013 Candice James

Night rubs its whiskers

Against my heart

Chafing the edge of emotions

Still red and raw at the core,

Dead on the surface.

The wind cracks her knuckles

Gently against the streaked window pane

And I am lost to the world again


In the still small silence

Of hazy memories

A hollowed out whisper remains.

A snowflake in summer,

Liquid lightening

There for a moment

Fading like quicksilver

Into a stir of echoes



And I am lost to the world again


Painted rain fingerprint stains

Across a dark sky

Are random yet repetitive,

Forgotten yet familiar.

I search them frantically

For the key to me

The key

To set me free

To be

More there than here.


I drift away

On the breath of the breeze

And I am lost to the world again…

Lost to the world again.

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