View RSS Feed

All Blog Entries

  1. Shadow Voices

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia)
    Shadow Voices

    From the dark shadows of the hall
    Echoing silently, softly off the walls
    The voices drift to me as I sit in my recliner
    With my nose buried in a book.

    Although the voices are most insistentó
    I do not spare them a single instant,
    Nor raise my eyes from the printed page
    To even take a momentís look.

    For the voices are but there to remind me
    Of all the bad things that would confine me.
    ...
    Categories
  2. Cobwebs

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia)
    COBWEBS

    Sitting in near darkness,
    I watched a spider spin a silken web.
    The fragile threads were wove
    Into a complex pattern of crisscross
    Lines, a geometric
    Design that might have been difficult to
    Reproduce easily.
    Yet this tiny artist expected only
    Her daily sustenance.
    Of such humble souls is the heaven made...

    Jonathan Blade
    © 12/15/97
    Published in The Aurorean, Winter 1997
    Categories
  3. Danse Macabre

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia)
    Danse Macabre

    Around the silent headstones
    in the cold moonlight,
    burnished bones gleaming with unearthly glow;
    they dance to the beating
    of each fearful heart thatís pleading
    for this nightmare to simply vanish! Enough!
    But as the rat-tat-tat of the heart continues
    and the blue lights flicker
    on the top of every tomb,
    the shades weave in and out of shadows
    in a ghastly tarantella,
    the moonbeams dancing with ...
    Categories
  4. The Messenger

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia)
    The Messenger

    And so at last I come to thee,
    Like thousands gone before
    To pluck my beak at my ebon breast
    And drop a black feather at thy door...

    Behold the dusky down as it descends,
    Regard its gyrations and pathway welló
    For upon length of descent thy length of days dependsó
    It is a summons to Heaven or to Hell!

    Other eyes than mine watch the feather fall,
    The orbs of He of whom I am but the messenger. ...
    Categories
  5. There are Days

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Imported Poems)
    and i am afraid
    i'm very afraid
    of taking a deep breath

    and drawing
    a knife
    wrenching
    it
    into my
    heart

    and finding - too late -
    only empty space

    small flecks
    of what may have
    been blood

    tiny shards
    of what could have
    been life

    there are
    days, Dorothy,

    when i
    am jealous
    of the Tin Man.
    Categories