Candice James, Poet Laureate
White Wine Scroll
I unroll
From the white wine scroll
In beads of scarlet passion.
Hot to the touch,
Wet to the soul;
Mining the moment,
Invisibly staining claims.
This is uncharted territory
Rife with unwritten glory,
Sanctified with the breath of lost angels.
In a distant cave,
A rainbow spins
Drawing me in
Like metal to magnet.
A pale turquoise haze
Blankets the ceiling
Simulating ancient skies
When everything was easier,
When breathing reached a deeper core.
Breaking
Into a million splinters,
Scattering
Into unknown territories
I climb
Into the white wine scroll
Of scarlet passion
And stain myself
On its soul.
—–
Unanswered Prayers
You prayed for me,
Or someone else like me.
We met sacrilegiously
On the backlit trick of a full moon;
And I pretended to love you.
Black diamonds splintered
Into stilettos of ice,
Wounding your tender heart;
And I pretended to care.
After a while,
I ripped of my mask and disguise.
Your naivety broke open,
A raw heart filled with a million teardrops,
Cooked to a crisp
Beneath my fiery gaze.
I took you
Past the point of pretense
Where you learned how to truly pray.
We met again
Sacrilegiously
On the backlit trick of a new moon.
You walked past me.
You had learned the value
Of unanswered prayers.
—–
They Called It Love
And they called it love,
For want of a better word,
To describe the relationship.
They stumbled onto the rim of chance
At the edge of life’s precipice.
And they called it love
In the sweet of the night
When they made it something new:
Uncharted emotions,
Torrid intensities,
Sliding down the blade
Of the word they were searching for.
Twilight lovers,
Shuffled into sundown,
They laid their cards on the table.
It was a push…
A gentle pull;
So they called it love,
For want of a better word.
—–
INN OF THE SEVENTH TRANQUILITY
© 2013 Candice James
And now…
The final journey begins.
I walk through powdered rose petals
On a stretch of silver sand
Travelling with ghosts from my past
And familiar angels
To the Inn of The Seventh Tranquility.
Under a metallic translucent sky
The coo of a dove drifts
On the whisper of the waves.
Beneath a forgiving sun
I see the gold dusted pathway
To the Inn of The Seventh Tranquility
I can see clearly now.
Through the years of indecision,
The moments of indiscretion,
Faulty choices and wasted days and nights
My compass point has remained magnetized
Drawing me unwittingly yet relentlessly, to my destiny.
Through the heartaches and tears,
The laughter and smiles
The successes and failures
From the depths of despair to the heights of success
Coming full circle and repeating again.
The unchangeable karma and wheels of precision
Carrying me to the Inn of the Seventh Tranquility.
At the last steps, weary and fragile
I am lifted by a flurry of wings
From the veiled mists of life
To the Inn of the Seventh Tranquility
Where I rest in the arms of the angels
As the final journey ends.
—–
THE SOUND OF SHADOWS
© Candice James, Poet Laureate
In the sound of shadows
Circular haloes extend themselves
Through hollow nights
And non-descript days
Chewing on sunbeams and moonglow
Exhaling mist and fog
Into my already dampened spirit
In the sound of shadows
There is no music, no cadence,
Only a haunting hum of whispers
I don’t want to hear
But they grow louder
Clawing incessantly
With long bony fingers
At a memory that lingers
Slicing my mind with reality
Peppering my heart with lies and truths
Spilling onto the mirrors of my soul
The smell of dank earth extends itself
Resurrecting images
Better left dead.
In the sound of shadows
I hear everything
Except my own voice.
Please share the story on Facebook, or donate to support our efforts!
.jpg)
