The half moon over Oldesong tree
melts into raindrops, carving wood
into fine crooked ridges, searing
storms into each falling leaf
when breathless stillness of the night
veils the trembling autumn wind
and all her burning sunsets.

T. E. Pyrus


melting masks

We polish our masks
with the broken pieces
of our starry skies.
When it rains, the paint
runs down their cheeks
like tears, as if masks could feel,
and souls could fall like melting clouds.
When they’re broken, lost,
colours washed into white afternoons,
we scour the sunsets for our names;
by twilight we drown
in oceans of our boundless hope,
breathing like springtime,
bleeding like salt, silver
like your moonlit-mask;
and you, never knowing
how your lonely eyes
hold all the storms that light the skies…

T. E. Pyrus


when lightning cracks across the skies
like cold and broken window glass,
who peeks through curtains of white rain?
who listens for spare hopes and sighs?

when hues of red stir empty skies
and bright stars draw the curtains wide,
who watches through cold, empty glass?
who listens for spare hopes and sighs?

when twilight charms wide starry skies
and fireplace glows safe and bright,
who loves the rabbit on the moon?
who sings clear haunting lullabies?

T. E. Pyrus

brighter times

candlelight dances on the old silver pendulum clock.

lightning rips dark lilac clouds
like headlines rip the front page
of the dusty newspaper from brighter times.

the pendulum lights and shadows printed names
in bold and black, and a photograph of smiles,
eleven- twelve- thirteen times-

’til thunder cracks through counting wind
like the cold, brass lock and key
that locked away those brighter times.

T. E. Pyrus

Daily Prompt: Paper

Stormwind Castle

Rays of sunshine shuffle in
through lone and dusty corridors
and spill over stone windowsills
in the Stormwind castle.

The green glass bottle twinkles bright
with raindrops’ summer lightning dance
where weathered staircases of stone
break into grassy forest.

Wheels and white mares clatter down
the road not taken, ’round the hill
with velvet, flutes, and princesses
who dream of moon fall music.

Stormwind wanders softly through
sun-crushed walls and doorless rooms
then to Thunder’s heartbeat sings
upon the nightstorm tower.

T. E. Pyrus

Daily Prompt: Bottle


Take a deserted street past midnight,
cobblestones reflect the silver
of the moon behind dark clouds.

Take a street lamp in the shadow,
take a new and polished taxicab
shining in its yellow circle of glory.

Take a lonely drunken lover
who slumbers on the side walk
by the taxi, pale, tear-stained face in the dark.

Take a gentlemanly house
by the lover on the side walk
and its prim curtained windows.

Take a curious child
who peeks through the curtains
to wonder at the mysteries of night.

Take a gray haired lady
with a ragged sack
down the cobbled street and wise eyes.

Take a down and right
to the drunkens’ abode
with tales that are told and retold.

Take a poorly made fire
in a home on the left
for poorly warmed poor to warm.

Take a wandering cat,
lithe and bright eyes,
who watches and watches some more.

Take a bright flash of lightning,
silence and thunder
and wind that brings fragrance of storm.

Take the raining applause
when the rain curtain falls;
The show hasn’t yet begun…

T. E. Pyrus