The Kings Knowledge

Have you noticed my little princess
that time is speeding up
and with every year that passes by
it becomes harder to find enough

The story tellers speak of magic
the fairy tells speak of dreams
but it is time that holds the key to all
nothing else seems to mean a thing

Oh we laugh and play, and make believe
that forever will always be there
we wake each day a little bit older
and deeper in the dragons lair

Somehow we forget that father time sleeps
under the shelter of the dragons wing
guarding the treasure which only he can keep
and the key to eternity

Alas every glorious sunset
we dismiss without a thought
not knowing the games fate may play
or what the webs we’ve spun have caught

We take for granted the most precious of gifts
the very life we have to live
Stumbling round like bumbling fools
on a fair day chasing a pig

And with that the King closed his eyes
so only that the silence reigned supreme
the little princess became confused
for she knew not what it was all to mean

Shimmering opalescent moonlight
illuminated the world with a mysterious glow
and within the castles highest tower
they stared at the shadows on the kingdom below

Then after a moment the silence escaped
and the king began to speak
My most beautiful flower I’ve brought you here
so I may bestow the knowledge I keep

Each moment, each second, each breath
every instant upon which we stand
is nothing more than the tiniest speck
in the hourglass full of sand

It shall always come to pass away
and another shall be reborn
we are much better to chase our dreams
then to fret over time and mourn

For life is forever in the birth of tomorrow
the desires in every wish
the smile so bright in a childs eyes
the magic in every kiss

Its the merry sound of laughter
the hidden enchantment in every story
Its in the power of every sunrise
we so foolishly dismiss upon waking each morning

Yes it is time that holds the answers
but it is only us who ask the qeustions
Remember that my little princess
for it is the trust of all of lifes lessons

Search the remnants of every night
for all the pieces to every dream
Nothing is ever out of your reach
you must only dare to believe

Know in your heart the qeustions you ask
lead to the dragons keep
but rejoice in the journey before you my princess
for the adventure is ever so sweet…

That grand oak tree
How did it form?

From a seed made of God
Grander than human folklore.

It embedded in this fertile land Nutured by a mighty hand.

An outer shell one day broke lose
From it a stem sprang forth
And tiny roots drank from earths juice.

A day to break from the ground.

Yearly a trunk grows wide
by adding wooden circle round.

From its source arms
Reaching for a sunrays charms.

Green leaves of fraility stand
Gaining strength from rain heavy roots
ground in a richer land.

Right seasonly her seedlings come.
A nature of variety tell fate of some.

Dropped to embed in this fertile land.
It is nurturedby a mighty hand.

The cap on my pen is not but a plug

forbidding my brain to drain away the pain

of love, the similes about love I thought of

while getting over the pain,

the alliterations of

draining away the pain in my brain

or the horrible metaphors about

putting the plug back on the pen

as not to cover this entire page with

my mindless puddle of thoughts.

I awoke to the sound of morning.

It was the sweet but reedy song of

the pond birds that replaced

the orchestra of frogs and crickets composed

by the moon each night.

The whinny of a horse

and the call of a raven add a bridge to the

smooth tempo of the chorus.

I peered out through the hazy mist of

7 am,

imagining the speckled clouds like

nature’s music notes, shifting,

as if the sun could not decide

which song he would like to hear.

I wanted to join them.

Dance without care

or embarrassment,

as the chickadees catch the high notes

and the jays set a beat.

But alas, the mist kept them mysterious

in a hollow city

of arbutus and fir.

I would do anything just to feel your skin.
I would do anything to hear you breathe.
Can you tell me where you’re hiding?
I’m addicted to your movement,
I need to hear your voice.
All the things you’ve promised,
All the words you sang in my ear,
Have melted into my denial.
I’m going to believe you’ll come back,
You will walk through my bedroom door,
Tell me you’re sorry once more,
Once more I’ll believe you.
And once more we’ll be happy,
And in love.
In place of reality,
I will wish these thoughts;
As I’m writing them in black and white.
Tell me please, where are you hiding?

She use to feel anger, and sadness.
A little bit of disappointment within herself.
But now she feels nothing.
She can’t feel the anger she once felt when you slammed the door in her face.
She can’t feel the sadness and regret she felt when she made love to you, and you had sex with her.
You stole away her feelings.
She no longer desires any sort of touch from you.
She requires NO touch from anyone.
You use to make it hard for her to walk; stand on her own two feet.
You used to make her wish that the last breath she took better be with you by her side.
You can tell her garbage you’ve been telling her; she’s not going to buy it.
You can hold her hand, call her beautiful, and look her straight in the eyes:
“…of course I missed you, why wouldn’t I?”
She’s gone.

The moon is suspended among the galaxies.From my planet looking like a pregnant womb filled with magnetic wonder.The oceans below her give way and follow her guidance. Her navigational pull on distant sailors beseech her mercy on a storm filled night.Sands,tides and minds of men are at her wish ful desires tonight.

Tears have fallen

So many days so many nights and alls I have are tears coming from my eyes. I have regrets and I have grief and that’s growing inside of me and its devouring me nice and slow…. But it’s kind of hard to see with this fog blowing in waiting… to mark its territory. But as tears fall and I fill with a depression as the fog comes rolling in I see a dark figure come toward me. And I grow with fear as the figure comes near. With its red eyes pursing me so I am paralyzed. I realize I can’t move from were I am standing. More tears come out as my fear grows as it starts to breath on my neck I start to quiver. But suddenly he disappears into the light waiting for night to come once more!

By Precious Montgomery

How can something so plain
Carry the weight of the past?
With each crease
With each wrinkle
Is another story, another time
A time when life was simple
-and unpolluted-
Is the texture of his hands
Smooth and rigid, all in one
A history of days he’s seen
-and gone-
Are the times of his wrinkleless complexion
The tip of his nails
Stopped growing, for what is the use?
These hands are no longer in action,
These hands will never see work,
These hands are buried,
His hands are dead.

Tear filled blue eyes stare out at the world-near lifeless.
Her rosebud lips slowly part, a ragged breath is inhaled through clenched teeth.
She’s fighting; anyone could see that, her pale cheeks flush a brilliant red in exhaustion.
Yet soon she gives in, darkness envelopes her senses and she’s left with nothing.
A whimper breaks from her lips; she claws at her arms-so sure that something is crawling about.
“Please!” her voice ripples through the silence, but no one is there to answer her cries of pain.
Her body convulses, and it feels as if there is a massive amount of weight pressing down on her chest.
They say she imagines this all, that none of this is real-but she can feel it.
They say she is crazy, and needs to be sent away to receive proper care.
They say she is a threat to the town, a threat to their small society.
They claim a lot of things, but no one steps in to help; no one cares enough to help this crying angel.
She gasped and writhed, pain evident in her features as she let out a near silent plea, “Please…”
Curling on her side, she drew her knees closer to her chest-her beautiful face hidden.
A halo of blonde hair billows out and frames her head while sweat covers her forehead in a thin film.
Soon things grow silent as she falls into a deep slumber-welcoming the state of unconsciousness.
She loses herself in the blanket of darkness, just as she does every night when she can’t fight any longer.
No one is there to comfort her; no one is there to shed light upon her darkened mind.
She’s alone in this world.