A Song for a Valkyrie

listen to ‘Valkyrie’ on Audioboo

You'll notice that the recording only covers a portion of the song, as it appears here. The reason for this is the program I use to record, has a 3 minute recording limit, and instead of recording this song/poem in two parts, I simply choice to omit many of the similar sounding choruses from the recording here, as I feel the pacing, tempo and rhythm are illustrated clearly in the instances I did record, which you can easily apply to the unrecorded portions, as you read along.

As A young man I made

Many a dire plan

To find an angel

Who’d take me from a life

I no longer wished to live

Racing, I made my way

To what, I deemed

a final resting place

It was here, where she first came to me

Grabbing hold my hand and arm, she

So easily disarmed the pain which grew inside

Granting me the comfort there, to see the truth behind the lies

In her embrace, within her grasp

I knew she would ne’er deceive

Even knowing this, I knew, her

caress could never last

And as her gaze began to shy apart from my own

she whispered what I most desperately had to know

Four words were then bestowed unto me

Four words, to forever alter, all I’d hear, all I’d ever see 

“ It’s not your time”

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

An angel cried

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

She saved my life

For years I’d think in dream

Of how she appeared to me

Simple it is, to recall, how I’d felt

Enrapt, aglow, her love, alive within this altered shell

This time though was long since past

And many suns and moons had elapsed

I’d grown old

And looking back

I now realized, that without her appearing then

None of this would ever be,

The lifetime of love we shared entwined

Gone, with all the rest my memories

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

An angel cried

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

She saved my life

But today I understand

No one can predict the fate of man,

No one knows how or why,

When it will first start

Or where it will find its end 

And that is why I die today

It’s my time; I accept, I must

there is no rhyme; there is no reason why

Let faith be strong; I must entrust

That one day she’d return for me

In a light that’s forever long

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

An angel cried

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

She saved my life

Fading quick

And there she stood

Still looking every bit the memory

She held me tight, easing concern

I knew what next must come to pass

This much, I knew I’d earned

Ay ay ay ay

Up high

The sky grows wide

Ay ay ay

Ay ay ay ay

On her wings

We would fly

Ay ay ay

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

On her wings

we shall fly

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

Way up high,

In the sky,

On Her wings,

We will fly

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

To Valhalla

We shall ride

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

Past the sky

We’ll soon fly

On wings

Of Val-chi-rye

Life begins again

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

On wings we ride

Up past the sky

To Valhalla’s gates

We’ll soon pass through

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

In valhall

I’ll soon be at home with you
 
Linked up to D'Verse for Open Link Night, where the mic's always live, and the joint's always packed, with poets each part this globe. Claudia is tending the bar tonight.  Be sure to stop on by, take in some great poetry and while you're there, perhaps inspiration will strike, and you'll share one of your own as well.

Drucilla

I wrote a few Halloween inspired pieces today. There's this one, the one I'll post on Monday and not sure if I'll post the third one yet or not.

Pitiful Drucilla in her tattered silk

The paste has yet to dry

As crimson blushes tongue

You’re voluptuous

Sensual lines curve

Shadow tightly against

Plasterboard

Catharsis flecks dust

From the skylines trace

Denouement’s never dreamt

Of visions so free in their finality

So fragile, senses blur first

So eager, to be plucked

Out of a lineup

Or a dumpster…

                           …If this corpse has been,

 forever stained by

                           The sin in you.

A Fairy Tale Incomplete

I met her a day many Mays ago,

Storybook in structure yet storyboard in form,

Inkless pages from a fruitless vine,

She was flesh, she was pulp,

Sticky sweet, endorphins releasing tastefully,

A delicate recipe, with ingredients defining delicacy,

No brushstrokes necessary, this image solves the easel

Natural shades and brilliant tones,

 Heart rates spike peering each trace the prisms spawn,

So subtle the hue one barely takes the time,

To pause would be to ingest,

 The rhythmic flavor the artist so designed,

Like many others I feigned approach,

As confidence trembled from voice to throat,

 A citric splash philosophy soured any optimism,

Any chance, left hollow; betrayed of opportunity,

To allow a moment, an attempt at thoughtful unknotting,

I do not know what became of her,

Often I dream of what could have been,

Perhaps someday, some other time,

I’d like to pretend that chance I’ll one day get,

I like to think she too regrets our time not spent

The Passion Of A Stolen Kiss

Five past the cauldron’s boil,

Through curdled clouds on an onyx canvass colored sky,

Spy I might with but one eye closed,

The smell of charcoal, the sense of fear,

But it’s through my fingers that which should not be witnessed is revealed,

Dreams awakened through rudimentary means,

The sort forced upon us at an early age,

It’s ten past consumptions point and a decision must be made,

Wicked brew comingling from tongue to belly,

Seconds flat to feel its crude, yet wonderfully subtle snake-like smile,

A charming upon the inner child,

Smart and shiny, crumpled in a tiny ball,

Over the shoulder, the shawl I throw,

Out with the darkness and above goes the cold and snow,

Shackles unbound, tonight we fly,

 Free as gypsies, empowered like thieves,

Travel we will, in caravan, over the plains of time,

Unfettered wishes abound this eve,

Through the stars and over the trees,

The glimmer in the corner of that woman’s eye,

Deliberate yet charming, a magnification of someone mesmerized,

As thunder meets lightning, that initial time, a passionate roar of the wild roaming lion,

Mane freely flowing as its pride evades, a coveting swarm of enamored bees,

Territorially, tonight we claim, that song, playing over moonlight, in the midnight breeze.