Moon and Stars

Even if the clouds shroud their light,

I shall always have them within my sight.

Even if the sun should rise and paint the sky blue,

For even if you shall forget where I lay,

I shall always have my moon and stars.

Little Prince

Little Prince, stand upon your star.

Sing all the songs of a thousand lives.

Reach toward the sun,

sling past the moons,

slide far beyond the turning planets.

For the universe is far grander,

far wiser than you and I shall ever be.

So close your eyes and see the wonders

that the stars have granted you but not I.

Singing Siren

Singing Siren,

lure me into the depths of the sea,

dragon me under the waves

so no ship can find us.

Wrap me within your deadly song,

drown me within your arms,

fly us through the fish and sand…

whisper tales of old drunken sailors.

Singing Siren,

do not deafen your song to me,

turn me into the foam of the sea.


Under the Stars

So lay me upon the bed of sweet flowers,

where the babbling brook promises sweet relief

and washes away the old and worn.

Take my body to that canopy of vines and ivy,

where it spills over forgotten stones

etched with once loved names.

The moon shines upon us, my sweet gallowed hand,

as you hid me beneath the ivy and forgotten names.

Bury me under the moons and stars,

under whom we once loved.

Upon the bed of rotten flowers.



Good Bye

If we were to say goodbye,

never to see each other,

never to speak, hold, love

never to smile, cry dance

laugh, draw, cook

never to think, touch, sit

never to fight, scream kiss

Would you be able to let go?

Even if we lay in our separate graves?

Snow White

For it was not her beauty, the Queen feared nor envied.

But the lamb innocence and the child naivete her ward held.

Raised behind stone arms, mother’s words far from plight and pain.

Obvious to what shook the ground and rumbled through the skies.

Screams nor blood taint the snow,

her stepdaughter remaining white. Her daughter all the same.

Scream forever echoing within the Witch Queen’s ears, wailing mothers engraved deep within her icy eyes.

The Queen remembers all, from the lying throne, the ghosts of war, the blood mixed into the earthy ground below.

The daughter not hers and yet she so dared to nurture, not fall into some dark nature.

Sent her away, into the forest so dark, so cruel,

to hide from pain and horror, to shield her from those that awaited her to blossom and bloom.

To take what is hers, what should always be hers.

To the dwarfs her daughters flees,

upon the words of the Queen,

her Huntsman did follow.

For she could not protect the snowy white child,

From the Princes nor his Huntsman.