la statuette en pierre

i’d cut you slow, my blade reflecting memories…
which shall i pick?

Perhaps when i spelled your name in stars and
Cupid decided two can play a game…

My wicked love, don’t you smile now:
beautifully calm politeness, have we?

y’know i’m not crazy, love,
i can’t handle post-mortem forgiveness.

T. E. Pyrus

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candle

shadow play on the ceiling
reminds me of the sound
of your intoxicating voice.
there’s not a soul around

to watch you blue and golden
when you gaze into my eyes
and each tear drop warm burning
through my fingertips and lies

that i heard you whisper
through thunderstorm that night,
and here i wait listening
and hoping that i might

await you, moonless, in
the silence-swallowed dark.
your footsteps in the autumn
with every little spark

in the woods, long forgotten-
easy wind and downy flake
and harness bells now silent
between woods and golden lake

and in unforgiving darkness
i met my phantom green,
then never again, in daylight
were our heartbeats seen.

T. E. Pyrus

storm phantom – A Sonnet

the treetops whispered quiet
of purple rain and sky
the river slithered, sly
and the silver moon was bright.
swift winds whistled white
and watched the golden lie
of a fiery sunset die
into a stormy night.
and there I saw you, phantom,
like a dream within a dream.
now, each stormy night I see
beneath the willow tree
your shadow-hidden gleam
until lantern sets you free.

T. E. Pyrus

A Lovers Lie – A Sonnet

Golden leaves dance gracefully
In gentle silver breeze.
The whispers in the trees
Sing like sailors’ songs at sea.
And there, beneath the twinkling star
You danced like silver dew
Then, in my heart I knew
That twilight lovers never scar.
The precious dream you left behind,
I loved with all that’s true
Like every lover loves their lie.
And every moment floating by
My broken heart loved you
Like mountain Latmos loved the sky.

T. E. Pyrus

cold blood

i’ll build us a castle of glass, my love.
painting on the wall of you with him,
in wedding white and painted clouds in the sky
i’ll treasure you forever.

I walked gentle down the aisle,
my footsteps follow yours for
every minute that you lived,
flowers in my hair.

why, don’t you look polite now…
i loved you when we swung our toes
a hundred feet above the icy
forevers of the ocean.

you looked peaceful when you
floated up, white under clouds,
your lips dark scarlet than ever before
your cold white heart, now frozen.

T. E. Pyrus

last pennies

rippling pebbles beneath the fountain
fine sculpted of stone and grey,
blessed with a velvet green cloak of old honour,
hail the knight who stands tall today

on velvet stone horse, copper blue eyes,
rusty blue sword and blue skies.
my fountain sings a song of sorrow
of wishes unwhispered and sighs.

my fountain, wish me a world of white
paper cranes that melt quiet into snow.
fountain, wipe dark chalkboard clean, like night skies,
in starry dark fountain below

and begin again from nothing at all.
fountain, we’re swept into fears,
too far beyond tomorrows, my fountain,
there’s time now for sorrow and tears.

fountain, my white paper cranes are awaiting
for castles of pride crumbling down
fountain, when all that is gone, who’s waiting?
who, then, will balance the crown?

my fountain, when all is gone and returning,
and i stumble to you in the rain,
fountain, won’t you, over pale copper blue,
let me whisper to you again?

T. E. Pyrus

teacup

my cup of tea has
a tiny purple flower
painted delicate on china.
the worn out golden rim
glows graceful in the sunset,
rippling in the wind.
my elbows feel cold on the
rusted steel railing,
the faded green paint peeling off;
my fingers feel warm.
the salty blue taste of
the ocean before me
spreads into forever,
singing her melancholy
song of wind like a chant
long forgotten, but never lost.
the clouds in my teacup,
they dream about you, my dear storm.

T. E. Pyrus

castle of glory

build me a castle of glory, my ocean,
build me a castle of sand.
my life is a countdown, each heartbeat.
your love is the sky and the land.

bring me but four little seconds
with a silver tiara and gown,
i’ll walk down the aisle like a princess,
with glitter like rain pouring down.

wash down my castle of glory
when my hands are wrinkled and bare,
and if my eyes remember our story,
please tell me you’ll always be there.

T. E. Pyrus