Old poetry pt. 2

Today's poem isn't about a person. It sounds like it, but it was actually a class assignment. An 8 line poem. I happened to be wearing an opal ring at the time, and as I stared at my hands hoping for inspiration, I started to think about the colours in the stone. All kinds of images started to pop into my mind, and I started writing. It certainly isn't complete, but every time I read it, I can't help but think of all the costumes and photo shoots you could make from the ideas in it. So, here it is.

Opal

You are ice and fire,

The touch of you burns my hands like snow.

You are cold and flame.

You are the crimson of amaryllis,

The silver of moon touched magnolias.

When I am with you

My heart is a frozen pond

Gleaming with agitated torches.

Red and silver and moonlight and torchlight and fire and ice! Imagine the pictures!

Old poetry pt. 1

So we're trying to get our house ready to sell. We want as much as possible from it, so we are painting, and flooring, and fixing. While looking through a bunch of papers from the basement, I found some of my old writings. 2 things. 1- I used to be extremely melodramatic. Really, extremely melodramatic. 2- I was also very fatalistic and morbid. I used to have a lot of dreams where I died in a gory way, while trying to get last messages out to those around me. (All my nightmares are about losing my kids, now.)

Anyway, I found a poem about chasing something that you know is dangerous, something that will get you hurt,  and yet you do it anyway. Knowing it will go badly, you reach for it anyway. Thought I would share it. Be nice!!

Willing Sacrifice

Dragon's breath.

Sweet, fetid breath

Upon my neck and back.

I look to it's eyes,

Baring my throat.

My love for the sheen,

The hue of it's scales, 

For the intelligence

Deep in it's eyes,

Sacrifice my life.

Cause me to give my blood

To nurture it's massive, 

Blackened heart.

The elegantly long

Blood-red talons

Rip my ivory skin

To meet my red within.

Steam rises,

Like my soul fleeing my body.

Crimson rivers run eagerly

Across my paling, innocent bosom,

And from the parted ruby

Of my untouched lips.

Then it strikes me.

Horror.

Utter terror gripping my being.

Reaching weakly to my mouth,

I push away an imagined sea,

My drowning lungs,

Bursting through my ribs.

The dragon gazes

With seeming pity and love

Into my wide, confused eyes.

With tears brimming

My focus begins to fail.

I try to tell my dragon,

Express my love for him,

But my blanched lips

And blood-coated tongue

Were never meant to spill my soul.

I see my dragon closing in,

And reach for his beautiful smile.

I can feel his breath again,

Like a final caress

From a tender lover,

Before my vision fades

Into eternity.

Well, no wonder I used to be an insomniac. That was based on an actual dream. See? Morbid.