they wait beneath their willow tree.

they wait beneath their willow tree.

     quiet leaves, like painted stars,
     tinkle in soft melodies
     of silver bells that never touch.

they wait beneath their barren tree.

     a familiar painted sun
     vanishes as midnight comes
     with lingering eternity.

they wait beneath their hollow tree.

     they chant their unforgotten word:
     “reminiscence”, “reminiscence”,
     like beating hearts, perilously.

they wait beneath the resting tree.

     through many thousand clockwork lives-
     their own hope-tied absurdities,
     they gaze, like lonely children, 
                                                                 at their moon.

T. E. Pyrus


trace lullabies in snowy sands
in empty parks on a full moon night
with naked feet that long outgrew
those printed socks with rabbits bright,

the seesaw squeaking thoughtfully
and weighing storm and wind and breeze,
the slide that twists into the air
aspires to mimic the trees,

horses on the merry-go-round
whine soft and restless, bound and free,
the broken giant blue-green globe
runs worn and spinning endlessly,

the swing set that once loved to fly
now smells like rust and tastes like rain,
like crumbling yellow paint, heartbeat
that’s creaking through the night again…

T. E. Pyrus


how many salty waves must crash
upon the rocky ocean side
until it crumbles into sand
and, by moonlight, travels wide?

how many moons must cross the sky
’til palm trees by the ocean fall
into its ever-patient waves
that restless, craving, leaping, call?

how many constellations change
before all heartbeats, thoughts and sighs
blend into pale ocean salt
to live once more beneath new skies?

T. E. Pyrus

cupid’s crayons

i heard you singing in my sleep,
that distant ringing that brings
yellow to the crayon drawing
of the sun. the little red barn
and the river running by,
the sunset and the morning that
brighten up the sky.

with your burning beauty
like cupid and death
that leaves my stumbling,
bleeding like tears
and nobody hears your
restless fingertips on the glass.

look through the mirror,
and maybe you’ll see
what i see in in your

when you look at me,
love, do you see me blinded by
my sorry tears, this apology of
a side character in my own life?

see me helpless as i gaze
at your receding shoulders
into the distance, down the road
less taken?

do you see my
breath running wild across
meadows that envelope forevers
when i wait at the crossroads
of heartbreak and desperation?

i’ll walk a million miles through
sand and snow, and all i want you
to know is i’ll remember
each phrase you flung
my way in your act of
wistful apathy.

when you
watch every sunset with
your golden eyes brighter
than the sun, full of thought
and sophisticated emotion,
not a drop for me,
and walk away with your
victory, and announce your
cursed sentence: heartbroken for evermore.

now while i walk from door to door
for make-up to cover my tears,
nail-paint to cover my bloodstained
fingers that claw at my heart in my throat.
unmoved, you shall walk away,
once you kill me with
your gentle smile.

spontaneous combustion is an art.

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

summer afternoon

sixteen miles until silence.
the train tick-tocks into
distant lands in summer afternoon.

red schoolhouses,
playgrounds that swarmed with bell and laughter,
die into whispers in summer afternoon.

the meadows run wild,
the purple headed mountain, the river running by
come to life in fiery solitude in summer afternoon.

come fly with me, in oceans over the sky-
hearsay, they are haunted by
impending sunsets in summer afternoon.

swirl the twilight with love and sweet sorrow,
blend in the darkness like vanilla and
soul past summer afternoon.

midsummer night- dark, windless and purple:
angels with bracelets of dreams
fly light-footed golden like summer afternoon.

T. E. Pyrus

lonely telescope

slide my hands
over glass, your
heart beating fast
through your
translucent wrists,
the taste of
raw pulse as
i look for a way
to your heart
like it’s a part
of your breathing
that i can find
if I try, carve my
name on, and
each time that you
go climbing clouds,
and you slip, so
those yellow balloons
tie your fingertips,
fly into the sunset,
you storm in disguise,
let me conquer
that faraway look
in your eyes
while you dream;
lonely telescope,
alone, in that bubble
of soap that you
christened your home,
see world
like ice skating
fireworks, you
leave the
earthly traffic lights
blinking and clueless,
and braid those
pretences like
diamond and dart,
devil you force
the lightning and
thunder apart, like
pretty stained glass,
let you rule all
my soul and this
faltered heartbeat,
paint the world
on my skin, maybe
you’ll let me in,
bind your heartbeats
and eyelids
’til you’re blind
with defeat.

T. E. Pyrus