Triskele
05-06-2007, 02:30 AM
here i am having a bit of fun with the villanelle format, whether blank or rhymed, so enjoy, or not, it matters little in the grand scheme of things.
Blind Night
Whose thoughts tumble out, lovely nights spent alone with the finite
Whose danger dares the unthinkable, and the chaos of freedom breaks free
Why these, the eyes that saw naught, whose blind vision did I see
Where my mind races blank, meditated freedom spills out
Silently singing my soul to the stars whose cold glare lives on
Whose thoughts tumble out, lovely nights spent above with the finite
Infinite wordplay dances in my head of days past, to the sunrise
Mistakes repeated, words re-said, why do I think only to regret the thought
Why these, the eyes that saw naught, whose blind vision did I see
And the black night begging the question whose white eyes saw me
Their lids top heavy, trancelike in their stupor, the eyes of the soul
Whose thoughts tumble out, lovely nights spent alone with the finite
Whereupon I did call, my small voice echoing from the sunset
The end of a day, the fall of a star, but should we all just close our eyes
Why these, the eyes that saw naught, whose blind vision did I see
The dawn breaks through my eyes, what light did I see
And time, oh precious time alone can mend my scarred white eyes
Whose thoughts tumble out, lovely nights spent alone with the finite
Why these, the eyes that saw naught, whose blind vision did I see
-Triskele-
Echo of the Sun
Trembling in the white eyes of city streets, facing the fiery remnants of the sun
Blood red wine drips from the bottle, its twinkling like the stars as it shatters
A myriad of memories, scars of battles past, voices in his head all coming undone
Sad whispers of desperation, driving him mad, forcing his mad mind to run
Scuttling away from itself, swimming down to the crimson depths of the forgotten
Trembling in the white eyes of city streets, facing the fiery remnants of the sun
Whose lost thoughts are these, the bright eyes and flashing smiles lost in oblivion
Whose fading laughter and sun streaked days of old are these, lost in the pain
A myriad of memories, scars of battles past, voices in his head all coming undone
The conscience awakens in the white sands, out of the bloody water, alive and unsung
The lighting strike eyes of self rebuke strike at the shadow he has hidden in, there he is
Trembling in the white eyes of city streets, facing the fiery remnants of the sun
A cry of realization, revelatory thought strikes the darkness, and knocks down the gun
But it takes a hero to face down the past, and the courage was lost, the coward drinks
A myriad of memories, scars of battles past, voices in his head all coming undone
A simple sigh of tears washing down, sobs fill the alley, his moment of light is done
Memories softly whispering away like the smiles, like the smiles that fell on that day
Trembling in the white eyes of city streets, facing the fiery remnants of the sun
A myriad of memories, scars of battles past, voices in his head all coming undone
The Fall
Whose lips sound a moment of pain, what sound can contain madness
The white eyes flash, the furrowed brows of anguish, a curious sigh of death
The wailing call, the walking man, the throbbing drums of echoes past
The echo of a lost opportunity fades away, its crimson shadow on the horizon
Hunched on a bench, head bowed to the thought of the days chaos
Whose lips sound a moment of pain, what sound can contain madness
Terse glances of hate, cold shoulders that cut, words never fade to silence
An echo that explodes from a word to a scream, thoughts that fade to hate
The wailing call, the walking man, the throbbing drums of echoes past
Walking down the street, menial glances of questions force him to think, to hunch
Beleaguered in their curiosity, he staggers in the middle of the road, assaulted from the sides
Whose lips sound a moment of pain, what sound can contain madness
Thoughts in a rush, seconds to miles, miles to hours, hours of think
Running away from his present, scared of the past, tears to the future
The wailing call, the walking man, the throbbing drums of echoes past
The blood sunrise falls, the darkness deals out the final cards, a hand of fate
Nothing to play, the faces look up, repeating those words, and the cards fall
Whose lips sound a moment of pain, what sound can contain madness
The wailing call, the walking man, the throbbing drums of echoes past
-Triskele-
Blind Night
Whose thoughts tumble out, lovely nights spent alone with the finite
Whose danger dares the unthinkable, and the chaos of freedom breaks free
Why these, the eyes that saw naught, whose blind vision did I see
Where my mind races blank, meditated freedom spills out
Silently singing my soul to the stars whose cold glare lives on
Whose thoughts tumble out, lovely nights spent above with the finite
Infinite wordplay dances in my head of days past, to the sunrise
Mistakes repeated, words re-said, why do I think only to regret the thought
Why these, the eyes that saw naught, whose blind vision did I see
And the black night begging the question whose white eyes saw me
Their lids top heavy, trancelike in their stupor, the eyes of the soul
Whose thoughts tumble out, lovely nights spent alone with the finite
Whereupon I did call, my small voice echoing from the sunset
The end of a day, the fall of a star, but should we all just close our eyes
Why these, the eyes that saw naught, whose blind vision did I see
The dawn breaks through my eyes, what light did I see
And time, oh precious time alone can mend my scarred white eyes
Whose thoughts tumble out, lovely nights spent alone with the finite
Why these, the eyes that saw naught, whose blind vision did I see
-Triskele-
Echo of the Sun
Trembling in the white eyes of city streets, facing the fiery remnants of the sun
Blood red wine drips from the bottle, its twinkling like the stars as it shatters
A myriad of memories, scars of battles past, voices in his head all coming undone
Sad whispers of desperation, driving him mad, forcing his mad mind to run
Scuttling away from itself, swimming down to the crimson depths of the forgotten
Trembling in the white eyes of city streets, facing the fiery remnants of the sun
Whose lost thoughts are these, the bright eyes and flashing smiles lost in oblivion
Whose fading laughter and sun streaked days of old are these, lost in the pain
A myriad of memories, scars of battles past, voices in his head all coming undone
The conscience awakens in the white sands, out of the bloody water, alive and unsung
The lighting strike eyes of self rebuke strike at the shadow he has hidden in, there he is
Trembling in the white eyes of city streets, facing the fiery remnants of the sun
A cry of realization, revelatory thought strikes the darkness, and knocks down the gun
But it takes a hero to face down the past, and the courage was lost, the coward drinks
A myriad of memories, scars of battles past, voices in his head all coming undone
A simple sigh of tears washing down, sobs fill the alley, his moment of light is done
Memories softly whispering away like the smiles, like the smiles that fell on that day
Trembling in the white eyes of city streets, facing the fiery remnants of the sun
A myriad of memories, scars of battles past, voices in his head all coming undone
The Fall
Whose lips sound a moment of pain, what sound can contain madness
The white eyes flash, the furrowed brows of anguish, a curious sigh of death
The wailing call, the walking man, the throbbing drums of echoes past
The echo of a lost opportunity fades away, its crimson shadow on the horizon
Hunched on a bench, head bowed to the thought of the days chaos
Whose lips sound a moment of pain, what sound can contain madness
Terse glances of hate, cold shoulders that cut, words never fade to silence
An echo that explodes from a word to a scream, thoughts that fade to hate
The wailing call, the walking man, the throbbing drums of echoes past
Walking down the street, menial glances of questions force him to think, to hunch
Beleaguered in their curiosity, he staggers in the middle of the road, assaulted from the sides
Whose lips sound a moment of pain, what sound can contain madness
Thoughts in a rush, seconds to miles, miles to hours, hours of think
Running away from his present, scared of the past, tears to the future
The wailing call, the walking man, the throbbing drums of echoes past
The blood sunrise falls, the darkness deals out the final cards, a hand of fate
Nothing to play, the faces look up, repeating those words, and the cards fall
Whose lips sound a moment of pain, what sound can contain madness
The wailing call, the walking man, the throbbing drums of echoes past
-Triskele-