Running Out of Words by Next-To-Candlelight, literature
Literature
Running Out of Words
I try to put words on the page, To describe how much I care for you. But how can words compare a warm embrace? The sweetest of praises is nothing next to your kiss. How can I write about the beauty of your laughter, Or the darkness of your eyes? A mere shadow of the real thing, A faded attempt to capture your life in my hands. How could anyone know exactly how I feel? How could anyone except for you, Know a love too deep for words.
Catching a butterfly in my hands,
And releasing it into the wild.
Maybe they will notice it flutter by
Thinking 'what beautiful wings'
Or maybe they won't see it at all
Or will say "I saw a better butterfly
Over by that apple tree".
These things are ok.
The weight of the butterfly is gone
Your hands are free to do other things.
Forgotten are the responsibilities
Of ensuring its protection
It is where it's meant to be
A world of danger and critique
But also profound beauty.
A flock circles overhead
Cawing and fluttering wings
Clawing at rubbish bins
Unearthing old wrappers, empty cans
Descending as one
A confulsing cloud of black
Wings, talons, beaks outstretched
Feasting on dead rodent, roadkill
Tearing flesh from bone
Lighthouse Ruins by Next-To-Candlelight, literature
Literature
Lighthouse Ruins
The broken lighthouse gleams
A reflection of pale moonlight
No light of its own to cast
On the still waters.
No longer a guide of any kind
Its eye has gone blind
Leaving men in the dark.
The sea's storms have ruined you
Crumbling away into a
Tower of broken dreams
Sour green apples plucked from a tree.
The bitter taste of the first bite
Always makes me think of you
Slicing your apple into segments
With your artist's gentle hands
Fearful of worms and crawling things
The red apples never suited you
Too sickly sweet
A green apple is refreshing
A sour taste as a reminder
That not all life is sweet
Stories of Drowning by Next-To-Candlelight, literature
Literature
Stories of Drowning
I read stories once
Of men who drowned at sea
Leaving girlfriends shivering on the shore.
Maybe it's time you learnt how to swim
You laughed and said you had little water
To drown in, but agreed for my sake.
I worry my dreams will fill with oceans
A watery blackness to swallow you whole
To drag you where I can't follow.
Life is a dream
Each dream has its nightmare
With sharp teeth and jagged claws
To rip and tear at all we love
Are sweet images worth the heartache?
The sunrises, kisses, lying in the sand
What lurks beyond the foggy future?
The dark corners, alleyways, crossroads
To overcome these uncertainties
To push through the nightmare
Makes the good things in life
Shine a little brighter.
Late Night Dreams by Next-To-Candlelight, literature
Literature
Late Night Dreams
My dreams are full of you
A sleeping mind reaching for warmth
Yearning for your touch
To close my eyes and melt away
Reality breaking apart
Expect for the memory
Of the touch of your lips.
A beautiful heart
Swelling within your chest
Full of love, sadness, joy
A softness like ripe peaches
Aching with a sweetness
To feed the ones who love you
A stone at your middle
To chip the teeth of those
Who hold hatred in their hearts
Strong and gentle all at once
Catching a butterfly in my hands,
And releasing it into the wild.
Maybe they will notice it flutter by
Thinking 'what beautiful wings'
Or maybe they won't see it at all
Or will say "I saw a better butterfly
Over by that apple tree".
These things are ok.
The weight of the butterfly is gone
Your hands are free to do other things.
Forgotten are the responsibilities
Of ensuring its protection
It is where it's meant to be
A world of danger and critique
But also profound beauty.
A flock circles overhead
Cawing and fluttering wings
Clawing at rubbish bins
Unearthing old wrappers, empty cans
Descending as one
A confulsing cloud of black
Wings, talons, beaks outstretched
Feasting on dead rodent, roadkill
Tearing flesh from bone
Lighthouse Ruins by Next-To-Candlelight, literature
Literature
Lighthouse Ruins
The broken lighthouse gleams
A reflection of pale moonlight
No light of its own to cast
On the still waters.
No longer a guide of any kind
Its eye has gone blind
Leaving men in the dark.
The sea's storms have ruined you
Crumbling away into a
Tower of broken dreams
Sour green apples plucked from a tree.
The bitter taste of the first bite
Always makes me think of you
Slicing your apple into segments
With your artist's gentle hands
Fearful of worms and crawling things
The red apples never suited you
Too sickly sweet
A green apple is refreshing
A sour taste as a reminder
That not all life is sweet
Stories of Drowning by Next-To-Candlelight, literature
Literature
Stories of Drowning
I read stories once
Of men who drowned at sea
Leaving girlfriends shivering on the shore.
Maybe it's time you learnt how to swim
You laughed and said you had little water
To drown in, but agreed for my sake.
I worry my dreams will fill with oceans
A watery blackness to swallow you whole
To drag you where I can't follow.
Life is a dream
Each dream has its nightmare
With sharp teeth and jagged claws
To rip and tear at all we love
Are sweet images worth the heartache?
The sunrises, kisses, lying in the sand
What lurks beyond the foggy future?
The dark corners, alleyways, crossroads
To overcome these uncertainties
To push through the nightmare
Makes the good things in life
Shine a little brighter.
Late Night Dreams by Next-To-Candlelight, literature
Literature
Late Night Dreams
My dreams are full of you
A sleeping mind reaching for warmth
Yearning for your touch
To close my eyes and melt away
Reality breaking apart
Expect for the memory
Of the touch of your lips.
A beautiful heart
Swelling within your chest
Full of love, sadness, joy
A softness like ripe peaches
Aching with a sweetness
To feed the ones who love you
A stone at your middle
To chip the teeth of those
Who hold hatred in their hearts
Strong and gentle all at once
You found a strand of silver,
Nestled in your dark hair.
You plucked it out and moved on,
But for me a thought still lingered.
A part of me felt mournful,
At this sign of your age.
Not old, but still,
Serveral years ahead of me.
How can I keep up?
When life threatens to pull you away.
I am considering doing poetry commissions, if anyone would be interested, but I’m not sure about pricing. A friend has suggested between 400 and 800 points depending on the length of poem, but I’m not very sure if anything I write would be worth that much. So I was wondering if maybe someone could please help me out a little with their opinion on it, because I’m not very certain about it. If no one minds.