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D a r k   W i n g s

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dark wings

whispering downward

searching out secrets

discovering mine

razor talons

now rushing for me

overpowering my struggle

taking my heart

cold bead of an eye

looking right through me

posing eternal questions

answering with fire


cruel beak

dancing in frenzy

freezing the image

delivering death

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 "open up", said he

 "why", the quick retort

 "shiny presents and pretty baubles"

 "that should do", she said


 "put them on the bed", said she

 "gladly" the quick retort

 "now let me show you to the door"

 "that will not do" he said


 "open up", said he

 "why" the quick retort

 "I am cold and lonely out here"

 "that's to bad", she said

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 words to make one feel good

 words to run away

 words to defend your honor

 words to beg you to stay

 words to question the future

 words to describe today

 words to weave a small lie

 words to make one pay

 words to enjoy a quiet dream

 words to escape the gray

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 hand touching white smoothness

 shaping the cold form

 with file and grit

 rounding and carving

 freeing one figure

 out of countless choices

 freeing one spirit

 waiting within

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 in the lingering quietness...

 a ruby silence of thought

 saving my hopes for tomorrow...

 protected from fierce onslaught

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 following patterns throughout the day

 makes time the master of none

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 powerful words strung in empty meaning

 fools the followers of modern problems

 search your heart to find true order

 then live your deeds to match

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 the air that we breathe

 the thoughts that we keep

 the treasures that are found

 the courage beyond all reach

 the beauty deep inside

 the belief of one who cares

 the days unfolding forever

 the time I shared with you

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 my blood flows in the river

 the river without breath

 and without life

 then courses through the narrows

 the narrow of dark

 and of death

 as I yield to the many sorrows

 the sorrows that blacken

 and caress

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 words hidden behind cruel shadows

 found in the silence of the night

 words with such little meaning

 silently spoken, silent fright

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 the red demon

 that visits

 in my sleep


 these promises

 I can not keep

 for if

 I'd wake

 before the dawn

 I'd search

 and find

 my soul now gone

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 I have poems that will never be written

 poems that will never be said

 for these are the thoughts that carry over

 from life to the land of the dead

 the words all alone are quite empty

 but together, they carry time's weight

 and after roaring inside these chasms

 they slow and give pause at the gate

 for I know I shall never see over

 the walls are too high and too wide

 but the spirit, so restless, within me

 must know, at least, that I tried

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p o n

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copyright Patrick O'Neil

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