Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry

Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (Full Version)

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Lady Veryon -> Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/27/2011 15:51:05)
~:I'd love to hear your thoughts!:~ I write a lot of poetry, not so much as an individual "expression" (though I do have a lot of those floating around, I admit :p), but to express an idea or feeling important to me. Tolerance, acceptance, love. Those are the big ones; I also like a few to magic or explaining somebody else's point of view. That said? To the work!!! :DD /Is excited Thunderheart There is thunder in my heart, Thunder in my heart tonight For a forbidden love That I do not want to admit to you. I long to take her in my arms Bitter-sweetly longing for what I do not long for; The woman with the sunflowers in her eyes Is trapped inside the lyre of my heart. I fear to cross the bridge to this plane I’d like to remain at familiar lane Because if she hears the song in my heart, She’ll back away from me for fear. Heart song, You are my heart song, You sing to the stars and the moon and the sun Morning, noon, night-- You take my heart, dear. You’ve had it longer than you know. There is thunder in my heart, but for you, I will plunge into the storm will leap into the twister, stand before the wave as long as you are the storming twister-wave, I will be hungry with desire for your joy. I love you, so much. Don't you dare hurt me.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/27/2011 15:54:24)
Menadacity Last night, you laid with me. Your wilting life respired in my arms, I held your loveliness, your whispered my name. How I wish that when we woke it was still my name you whispered-- that my hands could know your being, that I could taste our moon upon your lips. There is a decadence to Seduction, that dark crescendo of servility-- rare is the common man to know the sweetness of that song; so rich with promise. Our youth was in the swing and rise of starlight, embodied by the phases from our secret-keeper, moon who boldly held his white lips closed when we met, forbidden-drink, beside the boughs of Oak. Our youth died with the taste of the moon, so I cannot lie to say I've loved you: You know as well as I that we are no longer young, no longer hungry for something as common as living. These days, my common soul has common troubles; my empty mind dwelling towards the obligation due to dull employ, the youthful death of lust for life, one I promised you, long ago, before I knew its worth. No longer can I dwell in the lie of that sweet rebellion, no longer can I run my fingers through the summer grass, your smooth hair: Enriching Summer love, is not for everyone's like me; Oh! My empty promises! Still.... to have spent my meager purse upon your young desire, merely for the feeling when you smiled, merely to feel the joy in my heart is something I will miss, from youth-strung Summers Summers when you lay in my arms. These days, occasionally my dry, cracked lips whisper your name before I drink it down, with common man's clean water-- and then I remember: you didn't exist. Not even for a little bit, not even at all!

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/27/2011 15:56:18)
Untitled If emotions were a battle that men used to win their lives, I would have won the world. I see That anger is made from desire, And desire is made from wisps of magic on the dull and empty air; That hate is made from love Because without it, would we care? Love comes from the soul We offer it to ourselves and to the other, Except those meant to be severed, who only offer the idea to themselves. Fear is caused by truth; Truth is caused by seeing. If we look, we will feel. The blind wear armor against that and wish they didn’t. Love is the one thing no man on the world, no creature with eyes and a heart, may be immune to. Love is my weapon; But I will never make battle against you. I love you too much to hurt you, And hate myself enough to protect man against me. I am not like Merlin, With the magic in his bones; Nor am I like Sarmation Knights Their hearts all turned to home. I am common entirely Except that I have magic too Except I have no home, No gifts Except the gift of words, of soul. I flounder in the face of all but passion, love and meaning, I am not made for usefulness, not made for work. I am made for dreaming, I am made for pasts and promises, I am made to carry you all through your weary lives when your hearts are pierced. I am extraordinarily ordinary, World…

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/27/2011 16:00:19)
Juliet I would like to know Why no one writes about Romeo Why it is that we are so focused on Juliet And not the man for whom she died. Does it occur to anyone That Juliet caused Romeo’s death? We weep for Juliet; the Victim Not Romeo, that rugged man. How can we be so heartless To the plight he feeds upon? Does Juliet’s dishonesty Not shock and appall you? If Juliet had told the truth; Her parents would have cast her out. But Romeo’s kindred would surely rejoice, At gaining then a daughter thus? Yet Juliet hides herself in lies, Juliet, ashamed of love: So why on earth do we weep for the liar While Romeo waits in exile for love? Juliet has friends, family; Juliet has clothes and home-- Romeo has a borrowed barn And a failed messenger. Yet it is Juliet we weep for, Juliet for whom we pray. Not Romeo, who gave himself. Not Romeo, who died for her. Not Romeo, who cast himself From the streets of fair Verona, Where they’d lain their scene. Not Romeo, the handsome man. Not Romeo, who put away pride To meet his newfound in-laws Who lost a cousin as result Of Tybalt’s flaming arrogance. It’s Romeo we blame for this, Juliet we root for. It’s Romeo that takes the hit, And Juliet who keeps our hearts. Do not you see the angel die? Can not you picture the pain that he saw With the evening paper That brought him such grim news? By the Gods, it’s Juliet’s lies --Not Romeo’s, he’s far away-- That ended her life and stole his While you weep for the docile female. Well I am done with Juliet, I am done with all her lies. Instead, I’d like to talk to Romeo Like to explain that it wasn’t his fault That Juliet manipulated Every nothing that she gave. And the ring he did not give Speaks volumes to his good character: the name Montague did not last him While his sacrifice stained the floor. So please, do not let Shakespeare fool you Regarding soft, sweet Juliet: She’s actually a nightmare And you buy the lies her tongue begets.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/27/2011 16:02:10)
Gentlemen I’d like to walk among the fey, I’d love to see their faces. Could they really be more monstrous than the hearts of mortal men? The idea of true gentlemen is utterly enchanting; Men who bow and kiss our hands, Instead of playing fool. Their music’s in my ears these days, Their magic on my lips— Invisible; and out of reach, An irresistibility that’s just beyond my fingertips. So I no longer see the men; No longer drink their faces Nor wait starving for a smile— A fairy prince has found me, And we’re darker than the rest. …We’re darker than the rest…

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/27/2011 16:05:21)
Reaching into time There comes a time, in every night, where all the night is day... And all that world is gone away while I dream Of a dark angel's Fangs My heart cast asunder in favour of blood And I wish he would not force me to love him But I am powerless to resist him the tears that dwell in my empty green eyes watch birds fly away, free I remember another Vampyre with long, glistening fangs and a tinkling laugh-- which sounds of bells I remember trusting, and flying, when he was my wings, and he stole my life, forever. What can one expect of this once-living prince do I expect Hell? Heaven? Is it my heart he will collect again? But the little broken peices are harder to find than he realizes All alone in this grim day-night, My sun fades to gray All my heart's little peices Scream to fly Even though I have no wings, and surely, will die

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/27/2011 16:07:18)
Grass-Picking Autumn is not a spiritual death. The lovely leaves are dying, Are beautifully dying, Still dying. Grass is yellowing with age, Like discarded hay barrels rolled over peace, So prospering peace. I am not Prospering. I am not Peace. I will not allow the green The green To rest here; Not if I can’t rest, Can’t sleep as they do. I run my hands, Run my hands through the straw-grass, I pull up the death, Reveal the still-greens; Feel triumph, feel guilt--- Am triumph. Am guilt. A pile, Death grows From the sweet-smelling hay-grass, Death grows. Wildly my fingers run Run through the dead-life of the hay-grass, Like fingers through snarled hair, Like lab rats through mazes, Like colors through dark-- The death of the hay-grass, I pluck it, I pluck it! We are brother-sister friends, The hay-grass and death-grass and I; We are insignificance in itself-- Is that magnificent? No one sees or grooms us, No one speaks of us or knows, Knows of the fingers through the hay-grass on The wild-tearing fingered girl! There is no conversation for us, And now the school lot is empty Save me. The hay-grass pile blows from me. I am insignificance, Picking through the grass.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/27/2011 16:10:45)
I write a lot about fey. It's a passion, I'm in love with the old-world mythology ideals. Sorry if it offends. Also...anyone know what type of poem this is? The repetition is something I learned in creative writing, but I don't know the type. Wild Lights The fey, they play their lovely harps Smiling with their wicked teeth With music stirring through the air, They dance away their fleeting life. Smiling with their wicked teeth They weave their magic through the air They dance away their fleeting life Eternity never blinks. They weave their magic through the air To entrance and mystify Eternity never blinks And the dancing never ends. To entrance and mystify The fey, they play their lovely harps And the dancing never ends With music stirring through the air.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/27/2011 16:12:38)
Greatness Sometimes, in the deadly reaches of my quiet heart, I wish for power. If I were to find that place pursue it, like the hound it is There is no secret, no doubt or hesitation; I know what I would find: success. There is an advantage to being quiet when one is not among friends an advantage to feeling, knowing, the ruthless hearts of ruthless men. I would dust the cobwebs from the tired souls of human-kind I would twist them, turn them for the eternal spring made by my advantages. There is no champion for which I could not find weakness, not at least among those who have so relished the torture of me. That deadliness is terryfing, and sometimes, it will not let go because I know it's there, waiting In the reaches of my mind, where I let it lay-- too afraid now to discard it, too afraid to let it stay.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/27/2011 16:18:50)
Golden air When I was living the last of my youth, People promised me I would lose my strangeness When the time came When hell froze over When I grew up. Having hard-won wealth in my hands, Having worked until I fell abed, Having felt the glances that come from it, my other I find that they were wrong. My otherness is waiting As certain as the work, the wealth, the glances Biting at my earlobes Instead of what the world expects from me. I hear it, night and day It haunts my treasured dreams at night It rattles the veins in my heart Like a tornado shakes the telephone wires, And I am left alone with the noise And the damage. No tender music on my lips No more sweet, new words to share No new worlds to create No pencils across paper; I am empty. But let it be said, friends My otherness is not dead. It has not yet managed to be slain, It didn’t fade into the west with Tolkien‘s elves, And I will fight to keep it Fight until the end of always. Even with the dawn When it weighs down on me When my shoulders slump and my eyes tell you Tell I haven’t slept for wanting, I will not let it die. If there still were dragons The way that dragons lived to be, I would be that dragon. I would line my seeing eyes With Tutankhamen’s kohl I would line my heart With the treasure-troves of men. I would touch my scaled arms With glittering gold, with shimmering jewels And you would be agape at me Plain Veryon in immortal glory, Dressed and scarred by battle. I would earn your respect If my eyes were lined with kohl If my heart were lined with gold If my tongue were lined with honey If my heart were lined with knowledge If my lips were lined with song If my heart were lined like dragons’ were. If I don’t have the scales I have all the rest and more. I would welcome wearied glimpses on my human skin, If you would only look. I would open my arms to you If you had ought but blade to offer me. I dare you now, I call your heart: Look. Press your fingers to my arms Close your tired, human eyes And breathe the golden air with me. Breathe, Don’t Sneer, And Look. I, the dragon Am right here; Breathing golden air.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/29/2011 2:05:27)
Pain To be a clown is to wear a face over our sorrows. We smile and laugh and give out our hearts waiting for you to scream and run. Yes, that is the essence of a clown. Tonight, I was in the forest a "haunted house" of sorts in which I make my craft; the wild woodlands of the home in which I've grown. When the night had slowed the woman I love more than any other came and the moonlight rode her beauty like a horse with silvered saddle, oh, my sun-flower eyes, my love-- she came through, holding the hands of one who has stomped on my heart. In an instant, the hope, the smiles, the bad jokes, the belly laugh that frightens were gone and I was left alone left alone with shadows on the ground shadows from the hope-ridden moon. I ran into the wild parts of the woods the part where people never go and let the river escape from the cage behind my eyes, wishing things were different. But they aren't. My heart is broken. I don't know what else to do I have no other to tell my sorrows, nor beg for the warmth of another one's arms all I have is words words to an indifferent world and the pain in the shadows of the trees. I am not beautiful not like the one who took my lover's hand is the one of the fine, thin neck and feather-black hair the thin waist, the docile hips no, no, I will never have anything like that. All I have is words. Words wild, dawn-fingered hair a quick-silver tongue is no match for a face that makes common men gasp in silent awe at beauty. Tonight, I do not even have the words, my brothers I only have the shadow-struck tears and eyes that won't guide me to sleep.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/29/2011 12:26:15)
Alone In the quiet touches of the still and gentle dawn my feet begin to wander without purpose and I realize my eyes are searching for you. My eyes are always searching for you. I remember how I knew you, how I was so sure of the story from living-- better than I knew the heat of the low-hung night better than I knew the taint of choking sun; without ever touching my ten fingers to the truth I knew our love would never end. If I alone had been the author the story would have ended so-- but as it is with all great loves, I did not write alone. Was it not you who gave the empty nothings? Was it not you who put ten fingers on my chin? In return for all our happiness together, you snatched him like he were coins on the road; you abandoned me for him: you packed a black suitcase with silver clasps and left our sweet palazzo. For him. Yet when you recount this tale to others I have a feeling that I will be the villain: perhaps for loving too much for trusting you, always for daring to feel your coveted soul is the reason you punish me now? I will never know. Then, that is the trick to having two sides to a story--- if both are vastly different, only one can be the truth.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/29/2011 12:30:17)
I really might get lazy and stop titling these soon I am ice. I am snow. Breathe it in, Let it go. Pain That isn’t Yet is Is still pain, We fight and we fight For a breath of the air Who are we to breathe around it? Who are we to breathe around it? It collects and we sink We sink and we sink Down to the depths where we fight toward the sky…. I am ice. I am snow. Breathe it in, Let it go.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/29/2011 12:38:15)
Love is just as mortal as we are With you in my arms A warmth overcomes me, One made by you. From beneath my heart-bones It floods over me Like the promise of life That spoke so your lips. Like the diamond that may glimmer If we can figure out the cost. Like the way you feel at bed-side When we are alone That moment when at peace we lay Arm-in-arm and all at rest. You are my life, I, your companion. With a vow I grant your wishes, All you’ve wanted from your wife And if I fail you, my darling Tell me and I’ll change that life. I want to be the best, your best All you’ve ever wanted-- I know I am right now. Using this moment where everything matters, I’ll keep your existence and your dreams inside my heart. I will be your wife. Without the gleaming diamond With the rainbows bound within With the bronze ring sitting With cheeky grins upon my finger-- I am already that, my love.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (10/29/2011 12:55:57)
I would like to write About my husband When he wander’d in the wood: He said he heard (Or was it Knew?) A scream Of a lovely woman That was lost there, One dark night. So he journey’d inward Twixt the coyotes and the bukshah trees: Searching for the woman By whose scream he was entranced, One dark night. My son, He also went that night; A boy to help his father-- But it was not his father That came back that came back to me that morn. And so my son Screamed for his mother-- Miles away I heard him cry: “Mother, mother, something’s happened-- Ma, that woman is a lie!” And as I asked him what he meant, He shuddered in my arms, content; And told me of the angel Whose white wings were stained with blood. “We found her just before the sunrise,” He said (ah! said it in a grown man’s voice!), “She was dancing in a glen, One untouched by storms or time. And she opened snow-white arms And she laughed a twinkling laugh: ‘Darling, won’t you dance with me?’ Her sweet voice called to Father; ‘Darling, leave your troubles, and sleep with me tonight...’ Her dark hair scattered as she twirled, And from his world my father hurdled To the faery woman Whose sweet music did seduce. To the woods they went, and then; I found myself far from that glen Staring at the treeline Of the wood my father'd went in; Went with neither steed nor hour...” My son did weep As sunlight streamed through the stained-glass window That his father'd bartered for... For this father so seduced By the faery and the song: Was it directions that you wanted? Well, it hardly matters now-- But stay not in the woods for long; Lest it be you I weep for On these cold, these empty nights Let it be not your flesh, your life that feeds that monster's appetite-- One dark night.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (11/1/2011 19:23:42)
If the heroes from our Childhood were judged by more than pages, I do not know what we would find. I picture Princes in our nightclubs raving against tight leather, cold air greeting colder skin both a-waft with promises never-empty cups paid with dull and beaten gold. I picture Evil Queens splendid in their velvet dresses and billowy fabrics spreading their temptations in the hearts of loyal men. I picture Gentle princesses feeding birds in central park serenading children with their songs of rampant, troubled love attracting stares for passionate outbursts; summer dresses in the lucid sun. They are human, every one: Human breath and human promises human flesh and human warmth human rage and human pain. They are so much more than stories-- much, I think, like we are.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (11/2/2011 10:24:58)
My love, your apathy is drowning me. Yesterday, every raindrop bore your beauty like a man riding the silver-saddled moon, I knew and loved you now my eyes are searching for you on the busy streets, to find them empty of your heart. I watch your eyes meander over me, like I were a fallen sheet of paper; you bend to pick me up and then move on with your life as I brush the dirt from my mouth, the thirst for your touch, for you. My heart is aching for your forgiveness. When I think of it, the petals of flower-tears escape my broken gaze; Regret lodges itself in my throat. I cannot breathe around Regret. I can only offer words, heart promise not to overstep the golden value of your love and hope you understand that I am human and have bitterness.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (11/4/2011 23:01:08)
Hung beneath the naked-dancing moon there lies in wait a city of witches with secrets creeping underfoot and magic floating through the air. With velvet garb and flashing eye they walk the streets, nod to each other with the Craft within their hearts and magic floating through the air. The choking sun is waiting past the magic and the hour and when it rises good and true, the city's streets are empty. Let me live in such a city; Let the magic stain my fingers let their music haunt my ears let the golden-sanded dawn be my greatest fear. Let me dress in velvet cloaks let the craft move on my naked skin as I move in honor of the glassy, smooth-edged moon a flickering fire singing its praises as the warmth suffocates the darkness from my soft and lucid flesh... Let me live in such a city; clear with magic in the air rather than in a city of men with arrogance on their fingers and anger in their human hearts.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (11/7/2011 15:55:11)
I want to drop out of college. I hate it. I hate the pencils on the paper with the facts I won't remember I hate the feel of the too-focused minds, empty of themselves I hate sitting down at a table and people making polite excuses to leave, one by one nobody considering anybody else human. I hate it here. I really, really hate it. I want to run away. Get away. Now. I want to flee away from here and who would notice? Who would care? I don't care about these facts the papers I'm supposed to write, the math that I'm supposed to be studying I really don't. My fingers want to make the pain in my heart stop they want to make new people, places, words, ideas they want to give me the wings I promised you they want to make it stop to make it stop to make it stop. And I can't. Some people say when they are angry they just don't care well I care too much, too much it surrounds me, and it's drowning me and I feel like I'm running out of time to change into the empty ones that walk the clean and tiled halls. I don't know what to do. Being lonely is killing me, really killing me. I hate it. I hate myself, I hate feeling different I hate that nobody notices a girl crying her eyes out in the lobby, flipping through classes she doesn't care enough to sign up for. I want to wrap my arms around myself and be comforted but it doesn't work that way, not for me not for the mermaid on the land I'm drowning from the air in my lungs and no one will drag me back to sea; they like to watch me struggle, watch me die and watch me wither wither like the sun in Winter, losing all his heat I feel so alone. Everyone says that. Everyone, everyone says that but you don't know what it means like I do you will never feel it like I do. I'm tired of people telling me to grow up I'm sick of it, entirely sick of it because I am grown up I was grown before you walked into yourself by accident and I knew myself when I took my first steps. I'm tired of being alone, but I know that change can't help me I've tried so many times and it fails, it always fails and my heart is broken. How do I convey that to you? Broken. Destroyed. Dying. No longer stitched together. People roll their eyes at me for saying that especially when I use the language in my heart but I am not wrong, I am not overly dramatic in this weren't you listening? I know myself. I'm alone. I'm alone and the world doesn't care. And when I say to people, "What should I do?" Please help me. "Grow up. That's how life works." That is not, is never how you should fix my broken heart all I want is a little compassion the kind I would give you I sit at night with my hands on my knees trying to sleep away my agony fighting off the feeling that I'm sick, despite having not eaten and my heart is killing-- No. No, I must not forget-- it is not my heart, not my soul that's killing me. You, all of you, have promised so many times have sworn on bended knee with the stench of truth on your lips that it is not me that is wrong here. No, no sir. You know what that means? Me feeling like this? It's your fault. Yours. Not mine. I accepted you from the moment that we met, and you have not accepted me. Stir your coffee with a smile, and I'll sob in this stupid plastic chair I'll wither in a web of your anger I'll weep in the locks of your hair and you'll walk away. My pain is not my fault. The funny thing is? It's still there.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (11/17/2011 1:04:14)
Driving. I stare out the window as the car moves, dragging on the road like my life is dragging; my thoughts are barely lucid for the lateness of the hour. Headlights illuminate the signs, signs which sing like glass in the light. Nature stares inside my heart as my driver passes him with indifference. So many are indifferent now; that empty silence is everything. The only noise is the wind, the sound of my breath and those tires, those thrice-cursed tires on the dull and beaten road. The moon, my friends, is out tonight it makes the angry moment remarkable, like magic in the hearts of men. The low-hung moon is out tonight yellow on his sultry breath and the cities, the trees, the poorly built barns all awake on the quiet roads; all seem to be reaching to touch him. I wish I were reaching to touch him. Let my fingers touch the heavens let my rough, my calloused hands be the first to feel the night. I cannot reach. Every time I pass something it covers the yellow moon; a Harvest moon, my love half gone, like someone bit into it. If anyone had eaten the moon who else would it have been but man? The thought occurs to me, my friends: Every single human ten-toed human, two-eyed life can take his time and eat the moon. Never, ever, eat the moon.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (12/2/2011 1:21:12)
World Maker and Changing my heart Once, you were everything to me. Your eyes were soft your voice sincere your hands were warmer than mine were and I loved you. Your promises were made in haste to bring to me a smile when I sat on the bus to race home I'd think of your words and ignore the leering. You kept me alive. You were everything. My world was alive. I did not want to live not outside the Roses and the magic there the love and respect I had there just for being myself. It is intoxicating. More than I can ever know, that is your set of wishes now, My King, my Lord, my Cruelty. You gave away my Everything with nary then a glance. When I knew you next the boy I loved, I knew, was gone and you were there instead. You, with the blue coat baring my seal You, with the wine glass in your hand You, with the smile that melted me You, with the voice that closes my eyes. For all the harm that you have done for all the power you are now for all the nobility roused to your passions I will never forget who you were. I will always love you, Azrael. My poor and lilting angel I remember your voice before it was magic, before all of this all the pain I fear to write of is forgiven because I, and I alone remember you. Your harm is the shield, the armor, the graves the words and the speeches, blushing parlor maids when I saw you last you ripped pearls from my silvered hair, laughing and I thought of the day with the grim sunlight in the bleak halls the horror story onto love when you told me you loved me when you told me I was everything when you told me I was yours when you looked me in the face and lied to me, so you could die. The first day you met me and knew who I was, my precious heathen King. And you died. You died to harm me you died to maim my shattered heart you collected my soul in bottles and used it to unbalance me. You have injured me more ways than any other man woman creature anyone and anything so many tears against your pain. I blame myself. You know that, don't you? I blame myself for picking you up off the ground, dusting you teaching you blade and sharper-edged words teaching you elvish to touch on my ears teaching what I knew and how to use it teaching all you'd ever want to hear teaching myself that you'd be happier and now I know that I was right. Your happiness is a poison, my sweet, my gentle "paramour" it wraps around me like a false hope and rings my eyes bleeds my neck and naked shoulders as I wreathe in the memories of the days when we were enemies. You rise your way to power on the wings of my favor well damn your shattered heart, you desperate plighted thing these are my wings this is my soul these are my eyes for seeing and I do not look your way. I test you now, more thoroughly than I tested your father your uncle our "parents" I test you completely, I dare and I challenge: Leave me. Leave my world. Rise the dawn, possess the day and leave your velvet in your coffin sip some coffee, take your riches and leave my people safe from you. Leave the many women women who feel like I do women who look nothing like me with alienated faces with princess-thin waists with jaw-dropping voices and caress-worthy hips you leave them you be what you are, what you always will be: human or dying gold or beaten rock Else, this time I will not forgive you for you have damaged me in a way I cannot name to you you have taken my rights for love, Lord Azrael you've taken my pulse and my breath and my people. When I saw her eyes glistening with sacred tears when I felt her heart felt that she'd protect for me she, the human, like the ones you have so long neglected loved me more in a single instant than you have in an immortal life. She is stronger, braver than a thousand of your dark-Rose men too cowardly to fight alone the ones that you employ as I recall laying with my lacey gown upon the floor of your revels and screaming. The world around us may laugh the human world may scoff or mock but you and I, the human too, we know the truth and all of it and I will not allow you to harm me if she does not will it. Take my challenge or I fight you take my challenge or I defend take my challenge or I find a reason to further an indefinite end. Let my banishment be mercy let you remember your wit and your skills outside the circles of the things that mortal men will never know employ their talents seize your future seize your soul. If you ever loved me if you ever shed the tears I shared with you, shared on your human lips, my Lord if you ever felt the magic in my glances heard the silver in my laugh then leave my broken heart at peace and through your life do make amends. If you ever loved me even as half as much as I do you? Leave and see I'm right Leave and learn what I meant you to.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (12/10/2011 13:10:24)
I love her. She's taller than me by a little smarter than me by a lot she's beautiful, too, and aren't they all? Isn't that how all these stories start? But mine is. My.... Leona. My heart is broken in pieces on the shore. My heart is dying in graves dug for grains of salt my heart could fit its' pieces in your tear ducts if it chose. Sitting here, staring at your words, I know their truth. You're right. I've promised, multiple times, that I would take you to a Revel. I can't. Leona, my Leona, I can't. Please, I can't. I can't put myself through that. Yes, I know; it's supposed to be about what you want that's the condition of Love but when I Think of someone harming you when I think of the enemies that circle me like hungry wolves I am crushed. When I try to find the words they die in my throat as quickly as the hope that you've forgiven me for the lies the Law forces me to put upon your lips like paint. The Law, which I Rule? Yeah more like The Law, which rules its Queen. I feel trapped by my desired ensnared by my wishes and crushed by your rejection. Don't all stories end that way? Don't all stories end that way? I want it not to end at all I want to promise you Eternity I would give you everything within a moment, breath, or glance. The issue with giving you everything is that you don't want it; you look at my fading summer-gold locks and sigh when I train you to defend yourself and I take your hands in mine the look on your face makes me want to cry--- the disappointment, the anger, the repulsion. Yes, repulsion. I have men to throw themselves at my feet I have women who beg to touch my hair many, many require me to survive my world and you, for whom I have bled will spare nary a glance. People say 'my heart is breaking' like there is no end to it like their heart was whole before but I know better. I know heartbreak. Heartbreak is being so crushed with disappointment drowning in so much pain that you cannot let it show that you smile and laugh and move and live so they never know how much they hurt you. You, my love, my perfect my beautiful Queen-- you are my perfection but you are also my heartbreak.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (12/17/2011 2:17:59)
We would fight our weaknesses, all of us And I advise if this is wise: in the doing of the thing, so become we human again Fighting a weakness and letting it live is to become stronger And unbecome the death we’d seek from weak. Cats and people run from it Be the hour of dark or glittering sun With triumph, harsh and bitter, in my stomach; I know the truth of this crude thing. They have been forced to notice me They have been forced to see my face They are the circles underneath my eyes They are the fear inside my heart. So does my empty magic come So does the blood in my veins run, Invisible anger is my power. Sometimes I picture my blue-grey eyes Fringed with thorns instead of lashes; So do I picture thus our greeting. Greeting, when my fingers touch your face When you touch them back with a gasp of incredulity With my too-dry lips upon your shapely cheeks Vine-fringe draws your ire from my sleek and tender touch. In the moment, your will eyes widen against inner will do you glance toward the door, My vine-eyes will see you with an unempty grimace My vine-eyes will see you with a humorless laugh: Your snippets of fear are become my temptation. Does that lessen my weakness, Or does it lessen me? Me, Or you? You, Or me? Regardless, You will feel my touch And to your touch I feel. The moments will pass, Dead. Dead, As weaknesses are not. Immortal or not, we cannot kill them: they are only as dead as we want them to be.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (4/14/2012 15:39:27)
Last night You laid down on the floor in the living room You raised your feet to the fireplace And your hands fell onto your chest. I mirrored you. You came, without warning Though I’m sure you were attempting manipulation To me, to my arms And pulled my face to your breast Which was warm and comforting. I could hear your rapid heart Like the song of birds in an aviary. I knew I was right. I stayed still, silent Felt your hands run over me My arms, the crook of my neck If I had been teaching, I would have said 'I’m part Vampire, go for the front' But I was not teaching. I was entranced. Closer to me, now I could feel your cheek against my forehead I could feel your skin against my skin And I opened my lips, so thinly So I could feel the skin you had revealed me. You sighed, You kept sighing; your breathing was deep But your lips found my forehead once, brushing against my skin And I trembled from a want I couldn’t stop One I did not want to stop. I felt you twitching, too And hoped. Your face swept against mine in a nuzzle, You tightened your hold in the embrace for a brief moment As though to make sure I was there. “You’re asleep, aren’t you?” No, I’m not. I make no reply. Your finger traced alone my collarbone Your nose against my nose in a nuzzle If I had opened my eyes to that nose I would have kissed your too-thin lips As it was peace flared in my heart. “I’m cold,” you said. I went for blankets, stood up, went to the bathroom and drank wildly from the faucet When I came back, you were covered by red cloth And I put my head where it had been, And I said quietly, “I wasn’t asleep.” The words played my pulse like a drum set A bad, poorly-played drum set But I couldn’t lie to you. “Just chilling?” You mocked me I forgave you it Because you had to know how much I wanted--how hard it was for me to keep still-- I wondered if you’d seen How I’d dug my arms into myself, held myself To keep me away from you So I would not steal a kiss, a caress More than you meant to use against me. You said instead, “Do me a favor? Lay the other way. Turn.” I thought you’d given up, or gotten bored perhaps And I did as asked, closing my eyes as my face hit the smooth table. Your hands found The back of my neck Again and I shivered Your thumbs buried themselves in my shoulder blades No words Warm feet Less pain from being on constant alert Your thumbs massaging my shoulder blades. So hard not to Kiss you Touch you Move your hand to my lips, my face So hard to just sit And await it to end. “We should move to a bed or something,” you said after a time Your hand slipped down over my chest to find my stomach A swift and simple movement I bit my lip in focus “Oh.” You Will be Magnificent If I can let you Go After you touch me So nonchalantly, so carelessly I wonder if you had desire or if I was fooled. Thinking I shudder And I sigh For your fingers On my shoulder blades Your lips On my forehead And your heartbeat In my ears.

Lady Veryon -> RE: Giving you my Heart - Lady Veryon's Poetry (4/14/2012 15:42:39)
I have a river in my heart That shimmers like the sun The water is just warm enough To close your open eyes. If your human eyes could see it The water would beckon you home. To me the water always sings Recounts to me my histories Who and when I’ve been before Who I’m being here and now Who I will be tomorrow Come the finger-touch of dawn. It sings to all, Past, present, future And, in the depths of my heart, This is the song I hear when I smile. You ask me What I am like? I say, I am the River. The moon is in the Water’s eyes, Or so the people say So is the past long written; And I won’t deny that truth. I am the falling crescent that is moon In the darkness of my kingdom Gleaming with barbaric night I dance, I move, I dance yet more As the River sings to me. I say good-bye to sullen sun I place my moon-touched fingers on the wind-swept grass The moon illuminates the cites, stars you cannot see I spin, I spread my arms like wings And my light washes over your homeland. You ask me What I am like? I say, I am the moon. There is a storm in my eyes That would raze cities to the ground As soon as I waved my hands to the sky. My hands are still. So are your cities. Dust from the moon floods over my skin Like jumping through a pane of glass And watching the shards on the pavement. My eyes would cloud with grey-of-storm, With blue-from-deepest-depth They would glow like lightning in the night Around me would the aura flow As my arms I flung from my body And the storm would begin. Waves from your rivers, streams and lakes Through the wild streets would run The rain would wait at your doorstop And the waterfalls would race If my I cloud my eyes. I will not end your cities; I will not cloud my eyes. You ask me What I am like? I say I am the storm...

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