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The Waiting Game

She sits still and in silence

watching the blank screen

empty like her mind,

the cursor blinks tauntingly

again and again and again

waiting impatiently for her fingers

to start dancing on the keys

to spill her thoughts, her memories,

the blood of her enemies

it waits for a confession,

her damning admission

yet she sits there, watching,

waiting

 

-TheElusiveScribe 04092017-

I know I’ve been behind with my daily poetry but I will try to do more today. 

 

 

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Shape this Heart

 

Shape this heart with hands that love
mold it with honesty and care.
Banish the clouds of doubt that formed
replace it with trust forevermore.
Heal the wounds sustained in grief
patch them up with kisses sweet.
Open doors barred from within
bring back the light long hidden.
Stem the flow of precious tears that fall
entice a smile on bowed lips.
Hold this heart in hands that care
for it is fragile and can easily disappear.

napo2013button1

-The Elusive Scribe 041713-

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Story Teller

She writes of her dreams on every page of her book,
her mindless scribbling echoing in the day.
By night she sits by the fire reading her jumbled thoughts,
putting together fragments of images in her mind,
until they become a story she can tell,
to the friendly shadows that wait.
She beckons them to come closer,
the darkness where her friends hide.
You can see the blackness pressing in on her,
yet she smiles that knowing smile,
the fire from the hearth still glowing bright.
She opens her mouth to tell her tale,
of shadows that whisper old forgotten tales.
You can feel the darkness basking in delight.
She remembers them you see, especially how they came to be,
the darkness that you and I fear,
when we were young with imagination running free.
She speaks of forgotten lore and magic spells,
of languages long gone and broken,
threading her whispered tales upon the crackling flame,
the darkness slowly backing away.
For the night is done and her words are all slurred.
Tonight she will dream again and tomorrow she will write.

-The Elusive Scribe 020713-

8

At First Light

 

At first light she opens her eyes,
rosy cheeks bedimpled as she smiles.
With her hand she reaches out,
to touch the sun’s rays caressing
her window pane.

A breath of sigh escapes her parted lips,
contentment she bears in every line of her face.
Her body slowly opens up to the day,
as she uncurls her limbs from night’s embrace.

Stretching body with sensuous delight
falling sheet slowly cascading,
on smooth skin that glistens in the light,
never ending like sparkling wine.

-eam031613-

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Thief in the Night

Thief in the Night

You came to me

with no hint

or warning

but left your mark on me.

Now I’m wondering

if there is more to this

talk of life, talk of poetry

of common things

and the absurd ones.

We stayed up late at night

will wonders never cease?

I thought this feeling was over

but you let me feel it again

the feeling of being wanted

of being loved and waited for.

Like a thief in the night

you stole my heart.

Now I’m waiting,

wanting.

Is there more to this

fairy tale that you have started?

-EAM120712-