A winter song

 

Did I mean nothing at all,

That you should leave without a call?

I sit alone at home wondering why,

You could so easily break the tie.

 

I need to understand;

Was it my fate or just another ugly hand.

I sit alone at home wondering why,

You left me for another guy.

 

The pain is slowly fading,

The lost hope will never die!

I venture out to see the world,

It looks all twisted, turned and curled.

 

Each passing day, I’m less inclined to stay,

Through time darkness fades away.

Why you went with he who beat you down,

Played you  wrong with all the girls in town?

 

Was my love to you so awfully rated,

That my  end be so ill-fated?

I’m  nobody; a nowhere man without a hand;

A lonely pilgrim lost in  sand!

 

The pain was too much for him to bear;

So the boy went away deep – I think you’ve been there!

He’ll nigh come out now, not even to play,

Until the reaper comes to take him away!

 

I think he’ll nev’r understand why,

It didn’t matter to you that love should die!

Yesterday is dead and gone,

Your friends are coming, I won’t stay long.

 

Tell the little girl I love her so,

If you tell her he was “King”, perhaps she’ll know.

Why he cries until the tears won’t flow.

Even now the tears won’t go!

 

I see now why you reacted with show,

Each and every time I wanted to know.

had I only known how locked up you used to be,

I might’ve understood why you so resented me!

 

I hate the past… I hate the fears

I hated the time you spent with peers!

But yesterday is dead and gone,

I guess somehow I’ll carry on!

 

My life feels so empty and void since you went away,

Me thinks it was someone else’s debt I had to pay!

It’s still agonizing that you did depart,

It killed a little boy who gave you his heart!

 

Now the man – an empty shell

Just like the rest of them who dwell in hell.

Last night I crawled into a cave,

Looking for death at the hand of a knave.

 

The cursed fool began to sing,

Why would she even accept an engagement ring!

And my eyes well up and begin to sting,

For I lost my immortal beloved… my everything.

 

No ring, no song to sing… no anything!

Nothing but a venomous sting.

Wood Duck Inlay Designed and Constructed by: Artist/Craftsman William E. Blackburn

Wood Duck Inlay Designed and Constructed by: Artist/Craftsman William E. Blackburn, a photo by web923 on Flickr.

(Standing alone)

(Standing alone)© by: William E. Blackburn Copyright Jan 15^th, 2013 All rights reserved

Standing alone in a world of shattered dreams;

She looks back and ponders what might have been.

Wondering why nothing is ever as it seems;

And what has come of all her lovers from way back when?

He gazes out his window on a lazy afternoon, looking at the roads,

Thinking about his past, and what could have been.

In his mind’s eye, a luminescent sparkle of purple stardust explodes;

He wonders how many lovers she’s had since then.

The white silken dress; laced with a delicate fold

Lay packed in a box of unopened rhyme

The ring… to a sorcerer was long ago sold;

All but few memories were forgotten in time.

He wonders what ever came of her and her many suitors;

did she ever find happiness beyond one of the fences?

Were they all just playing the role of part time tutors?

and thus ended like the other past -tenses?

Digging deeper into the clutter of old, she finds a little particle of gold;

A key once given, that opened up her heart.

He tried with all; but even so… the curtain had to unfold:

The key was meant for her to keep… right from the start

Some years later…

The old man was sitting at his desk for nocturnal rhyme time,

A familiar angel makes an infrequent call.

“I’ve come” she said “to give you a single line!”

“The woman you kept in your mind; well she just learned to crawl!”

The old man sat there a while; teary eyed at times,

When suddenly his heart just couldn’t beat anymore.

The angel; she waited while he styled his rhymes;

Then without hesitation, together they walked out the door!

Me thinks he will fall once again,

so he too can crawl and learn how to pen.

To try to make right his spiritual plight,

and prepare for the final celestial flight.

Make it real

Words can only try to tell you how I feel;

it’s my heart the words try to reveal.

It’s my heart that never wears a disguise,

if you don’t believe me, then look into my eyes.

Sometimes it’s everything I don’t say

hoping silence will make everything O.K.

What I feel for you is beyond description,

everything else is just jumbled encryption.

So how can I tell you how much I care?

I can’t, and to try… I won’t even dare.

Your face is like the morning sun peeking over the mountains,

giving warmth to celestial fountains.

Your eyes – like chrysolite cut and polished fine,

with multifaceted windows, like heaven they shine.

Your lips so beautiful and full of bliss,

oh how I yearn, for just one kiss!

Do you know the inner chamber of my soul,

without you… is nothing but a hole?

Do you know where we’re going to;

will you take my hand and say I do?

I’ll hold you every night under the stars,

You can be Venus, and I’ll be Mars.

I won’t try to change, or rearrange you,

just try to love you, through and through!

I miss you so much, sometimes to tears,

If I could but touch – and still all your fears…

Give up this loneliness,

and with love… fill up the years.

I’d give it my best – God take the rest,

I would walk ten thousand miles at your behest.

What more can I part to the mourning dove,

except that you always were and will be… my only true love!

Stealing bits of light

Loneliness is the game,

Foreboding dark shadows.

Stalking; ever stalking without shame,

Strife like a river… flows!

 

Enchanted dream broken,

Devoid of all meaning.

Life but a token,

The devil’s face seething.

 

Walking in the midnight shadow,

Bay lists in the night.

Prancing mares toe to toe,

Seducing even light.

 

Looking for celestial flight,

Raven sings  his song.

Lord of flies contends at night,

To sound the fateful gong.

 

Loneliness was his claim to fame,

Demons worked the more.

Destroy the wretched human game,

And lead them to the shore.

 

Cold… dark… empty shell,

Lurking in the night.

Bringing all his wares from hell,

Destroying bits of light.

 

Breaking cords – taking flight,

Mysteries foretold.

Will they reach the height,

Will they be so bold?

 

Loneliness is the game,

Darkness is the whore.

Beckoning without shame,

Leading souls away from shore!

 

Keep the midnight rhyme,

In a place that no one knows.

Live the lie of space and time,

Until a soft wind blows!

The Concrete Jungle ( A poem by: William E. Blackburn) Copyright Nov. 21, 2012 All Rights Reserved

Poets in a concrete jungle
Walking barefoot in the sand.
Iron bars of greenbacks-
Taking hold of all the land.

Cry out ye brothers-
There is no place to go. 
For earth begins to wither-
Like flowers in the snow.

Her majesty is raped-
And painted with a smile.
A checker board demeanor-
A tombstone every mile.

But wait dear friends-
My Mirth it doth propose,
Depose the bitter fruit-
And drink the Wild Rose.

A poem titled “Celestial Flight”

Celestial Flight© 

By: William E. Blackburn

Copyright Nov.21 2012 All Rights Reserved

Celestial Flight

Ethereal faces on vacant walls;

Nocturnal shadows fly.

Signets hung in empty halls,

To taunt the child’s eye.

 

Silver cords bound to Earth,

Searching in the night.

Children lost at birth;

Celestial dreams in flight.

 

Kindred spirit upon a cloud,

Of mirth and ecstasy.

Wading in a midnight shroud,

Laced with phantom mystery.

 

Raspberry robe adorned with stone;

Pink for the blood of Angels,

Purple for the majestic throne,

Blue for the empty Terra shells.

 

Infinite lattice of space and time,

Take me home again.

Keep conscious the midnight rhyme,

To share with mortal men.

 

Bali by the Sea

Bali by the Sea©

By: William E. Blackburn Copyright(August 18^th, 2001) All Rights Reserved

Sometimes I feel like a leaf in the wind!

Sometimes I feel like an empty bottle that has crossed the sea of time. A bottle whose true substance was consumed long ago, and yet the shell (worn and strewn about by countless waves and riptides), has somehow stayed afloat despite the onslaught of whirling pools and tidal waves. A bottle that has come to rest in the sands of a rocky alcove – seldom touched except by a few ominous crests that thunder in the midst of a full moon.

Sometimes I feel like the wind! At times it is soft and gentle like a warm summer breeze… and other times, strong and seemingly defiant to the world. I do not know or understand the wind. I cannot predict its direction or the nature of its gale, but I can feel that unexplainable mysterious force that breathes life into my spirit, and it’s a wonderful thing.

Sometimes I feel like a leaf in the wind that is blown hither and yon by some irresistible unseen force. The wind has no notion of whether I’m drifting or tumbling or being ripped apart in its environment; it just keeps moving along, loosing seeds that will inevitably sprout and reach fruition – eventually they will drop their own leaves in the ether of space and time, and the wind will see them through it all.

Sometimes I feel like an ominous thunderstorm; dark and full of potential. A thunderstorm whose fury is bottled up with deadly bolts of lightning and torrents of rain. A storm whose myriad of ice crystals (hovering just beyond the dark cloud), form matrices of deadly hailstones, which will inevitably shower the earth. A storm whose rain is cold and bitter from a brush with a frigid arctic breeze. A storm that will eventually wash out to sea and die, but not before it plays out the full extent of its cleansing nature.

Sometimes I feel like a still pond: the surface of which reflects light upon the occasional passer-by, or a fisherman in respite from the insanity and mundane nature of his world. The shores are shallow, nearly transparent, and warmed by the mid-day sun. The basin is deep and cold like an abyss and only fishermen and poets contemplate what lies below the murky depths.

Blogspot of: William E. Blackburn (Artist – Poet – Freelance Writer & Craftsman)

Hello and thanks for visiting the blog of William Blackburn. I’m an artist, craftsman, freelance writer and amateur photographer, and I love working on a variety of different projects. I was born and raised in the State of Connecticut until the age of 17 when I joined the U.S. Marine Corp. In 1976 after  being discharged from the Military I settled in Bangor Maine where I worked as a carpenter and later as a self employed Building and Solar Contractor. Now nearing retirement ‘age’ (I’m nowhere near ready to retire), I’m presently living in the Mojave Desert in Southern California. I like to work with my hands creating things and doing a variety of arts and crafts, but my real love is writing.  As a child I used to dream of one day becoming a successful writer, and at the age of 58 I’m still pursuing that dream. It’s been a long road with many twists and turns, and there were many times when I stumbled off the beaten path and got lost in the wilderness for a number of years, but the dream lives on and here I am… doing what I love doing. I always had an affinity for Mark Twain and his style of writing, but over the years I’ve come to view him as a cantankerous old boot with a tendency for passive aggression, if not outright insulting! But enough said regarding Ole Sam; I’m sure he had his reasons for being the ornery ass that he was, so we’ll just leave it alone. I like dabbling in a variety of subjects including religion, politics, how-to articles and human interest stories, but poetry and song writing are really what I love the most. I’ve provided links to a couple other sites where you can view some more of my work. Please feel free to leave a comment or drop me a line at <web92354@gmail.com> Thanks again for visiting my blog.

Visit my website here: http://blackstoneenterprises.jimdo.com/

 Poetry – short stories & articles by: William E. Blackburn: http://web923.hubpages.com/