embers and silence..,

She skips stones o’er shallow darkness
that ripples ’round her bare ankles.
twilights trace her lorn shoulders and soul,
pale wristlets of sunset that grace her wrists
burn bright, searing like heartbreak,
yet smoulder forever like untiring love;
her eyes, grey like shadow, twinkle with wry mirth
o’er shallow darkness, like faery knights
of new moon, vows of pure sunlight
every dawn; her hair, dear as midnight,
curtains wistful smiles: gentle curve of her frayed lips,
gentle hope that never fully breaks with falling time;
her laughter wakes the melancholic night;
o’re shallow darkness, wishing stars shine bright..,

T. E. Pyrus

Listen, hold your breath –

Can you hear faint rustling
of pen sketched words who wander
across new paper, sneaking
in between the pages when soft breeze
flutters in soft silence,
peeking underneath the lines
of rich creme paper, and gazing in awe
at words that dance with elegant grace,
timid commas tiptoe, slow,
and spiral ’round the hasty dots
into dizzy tales of mystic dreams.
Sometimes, they wake and watch the stars,
and listen to their wistful songs
of time like ’twere the fervent sea;
starry waves that sing to moons,
of storms and love and laughter, free,
drawing in lone, wandering souls
who know and listen quietly.
Listen, hold your breath, stay still,
to shy bells, clear and tinkling,
when soft wind turns the secret page
and stars pour into poetry,
infinite loops trace whispered words
with life and magic, endlessly…

T. E. Pyrus

Carousel

Coloured voices paint the world…

No one steals another glance
at the faery carousel
that crowns the gentle woods of time,
and spins to melodies of grace,
the melting spring and summer bloom
that flutter in the sun-kissed rain,
fiery golden autumn leaves
and snowflakes, pure, that hide their flame
in little baskets, full of dreams.

No one steals a second glance
but wistful dreamers, lovers true
who wonder at the carousel
as lifetimes come and drift away…

T. E. Pyrus

another side of midnight

The moon arose unflinchingly
upon the stormy sky.
Little drops of starry light,
misty songs of faery knight
and snowcloud maidens’ sigh
wander over field and lawn,
meadow gates they swing upon,
and leave soft laughter by.
They rest upon a bed of hay
until the wistful break of day,
and ’til then, shimmering lie…

T. E. Pyrus

another dusk

trace the fading numbers
before you abandon that
ancient calender, crumbling
and wistful, and pale golden dust
in the fading light that feels
like nostalgia and smells like home;
wonder if they wondered about you
a hundred years ago.

T. E. Pyrus

diamond you

does the word
isolation mean
that they place you
on an eternal
glacier at dawn?
it’s not windy
but cold; tales
and yarns that
you fold, but there’s
no one around,
they’re all gone,
and you’re quiet
in a wheelchair,
head high, in a
world where you
cannot ask why,
but by grace,
if you do, they’ll
all say, “mary sue!
say thee, that’s
a fine bird in
the sky!”
so you stay
there, your book
upside down,
staying lost ’til
you want to
be found,
you sit with
the back of
your head to
the world,
tired, ‘touch wistful,
o’ the people
of gold,
when you spoke,
they all shrouded
the truths that
you told,
now wait still,
all alone,
not a sound.
then one day
you hear your
heart call, after
forever of
nothing at all,
then your eyes
are warm, glistening,
but nobody’s listening,
melt a hole through
the floor and you fall-
right through ice
and through stone
and through crust,
diamond you,
you shall burn
for you must,
feel your heart
beating loud,
blaze a bright
brilliant cloud,
singing,
ashes to ash;
dust to dust.

T. E. Pyrus