~The Dragon Flies' Lair V~

November 25, 2003 | bentfeather

[Darksheare]

This haunted house I hide inside
Nightmare that my eyes close behind
My ghosts dance as they're haunting me
I fall on down
Running as I chase after me
Undulating mental screams
They're all following me
I fall on down
Spiral stairs to unknown end
Follow them down inside
My ghosts laugh as they're taunting me
I fall on down
Will I ever be free
It's a bitter pill between whether and will
The mirror soul said she needed a date
I fall on down
And listen to screams

[Soaring Feather]

My Dragon Fly

My guide,
  
the Dragon Fly

is a muse

 I choose

to run softly and to

love the Waltz...

 

bentfeather

a/k/a LMH

Copyright © 11/30/2003

All Rights Reserved

[Darksheare]

*Chuckle*
Thanks!

[Soaring Feather]

You're welcome.

I had this poem all loaded and ready to post went IE crashed on me. ARGH!!

[Soaring Feather]

I hide behind your eyes
and watched your nightmare
aware that the bell would toll
for me before morning

You moved in my direction
toward the shadow dream
and the scream that was
from another world

from the haunted house
of your nightmare...

[Darksheare]

*Gasps and shrieks*
Noo!

[Darksheare]

oooh, pretty!
And dreamlike.

[Darksheare]

Is it me-
that haunts my dreams
Can this be-
is it real or is it shades?
Upside down-
in the house of mind
Enshrouded me-
with a flame of night
Distant screams-
echo from my mouth
Come with me-
let me run away with you
Do the deed-
bound to this shelf

[Soaring Feather]

You haunt your dreams
I am wild it seems
and never tarry there
for my winged one
is near
and
My Dragon Fly is my guide
tis with him I do abide
we hide in marshy places
let no sun on our faces
we are fragile
Dragon and me
meant for moonlight
and gossamer cocoons
minty greens and blue moons
we shy away from busy places
silence is our noise of choice
for we have lost our voice
and communicate in
visual glance and
feel our love
on the wind...
love light in our eyes
one day
we will be the prize

bentfeather© 11/30/2003

[Darksheare]

Interesting.
Especially the centered text.
Makes me think, oddly enough, off a mist covered field under the full moon.

[Soaring Feather]

That's the beauty of centering poetry!

As a typesetter, I know of many eye appealing ways to display text.

The text creates a shape that often is very beautiful as in this case. Can you imagine a pale mint green back ground paper with tiny pastel green Dragon Flies ?

Just eye popping lovely I tell you! LOL

[Darksheare]

Yes.
Also remember Lewis Carroll's "Small tail" poem shaped like a tail?

[Soaring Feather]

I don't recall that one. ;-(

Poets have played around with text placement for a long time. Especially owners of small printing presses where small book runs can be done.

I have been told by book editors not to center poetry as they say "it's hard to read and they lose their place."
Well, I say, pay attention and read the meter.

I personally hate to read flush left set work, it's ugly to my eye.

The words should create the images and beauty or horror, what ever the topic of the work is that's true. However, a little help from clever text placement and typesetting always helps.

[Soaring Feather]

Dark, when you read that poem again narrow your eyes as you read. I see a Grecian urn with graceful curves.

[Darksheare]

I'm not a typsetter.
*chuckle*

But what I see is a vase with a tulip in it.

[Darksheare]

Had a copy of Alice's adventures in wonderland, it's in there.

[Soaring Feather]

Close enough, I thought about a flower, too.

[Darksheare]

*chuckle*
Well, that's what I see.
So it is a success.

(I'm no good with html formatting.)

[Radix]

I have found my way
Back to a place of awe
What happens here, in this Valley
Words, ideas, and special things

The anger gone, only the cynic remains
Soon to be purged, else, I perish on the inside
Yup, I am ready, for a respite, from angry days.

I will rest here, and try to be nice, for a time

I can do this.

[Soaring Feather]

Oh, I didn't mean that your poetry should be centered!!

That's a personal choice always.