No Beginning No End

I take words like a source of energy 

spinning them into a beautiful telling novella 

emotional roller coaster ride 

power ball spin into the heavens

They have no beginning, they have no end 

I gently lay them out on a vaporous

black velvet texture-less veil

the words pop like firecrackers 

sparks fly intentions soar 

and if they don't I toss them into a golden cup 

shake them up and throw them out again and again

They have no beginning, they have no end  

I take my pen a relic transformed 

into a thin strand of silver thread 

weaving it in and out stinging words together 

like an artist would create a master piece 

from the heart beating pulse blood soaked 

revealing reaching the depths of the soul

They have no beginning, they have no end  

I carry my treasured

translucent fixations 

ebb and flow emotions

my world of words

has no beginning 

it has no end

© 2016 TrilbyYates

 

I Am A Visitor

I’m not a gender bender 

or person of color - societal descriptive norm

I have little faith 

shy of fairy tales and Mother Nature

There are few left 

in my blood line 

…yet I am relatively not alone

And there are days 

when the sun 

comes up 

and I don’t rise - to the occasion 

Night falls 

and sleep 

is a reluctant guest 

I am a visitor 

in a world of strangers 

and you may never 

know my real name 

My true calling 

has been my only truth 

my only companion 

in the solitude of creativity 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

I Think Of You Often

Salty air morning dew 
lay softly on my skin 
a beautiful wind blows 
off the eastern side 
of a blue moon
and a wave 
from far away 
delights and dashes hope
while stirring memories 
from an off-kilter moment 
when time stood still 
and what we shared
remains illusive 

I think of you often

Stolen kisses fingers entwined 
eyes wide with the sweetness 
of a forbidden love
and as we moved through 
time and space 
writing love poems 
and stringing words together 
hidden under the guise 
of creativity 
and dreams of forever
ours were secrets never told 
secrets to cherish and behold

I think of you often

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Word Flow Vice

There is a sense 
of dread lingering
deep dark longing 
wrapped tightly 
suffocating 
to the point 
of paralysis 
I do not pause 
or hesitate 
Fear is not a driving force
Narcissistic identity bender,
insanity root of inspiration,
and subconscious driving force
...maybe 
I have my words,
my pen and paper;
sword of sorts 
And when I am alone 
in this place of anonymity 
it remains a surreal 
untouchable source of truth 
and provocative profanity - 
I do not hide 
behind my words 
Yet - I struggle to speak 
As each layer 
is painstakingly 
torn away,
tiny pieces of my soul 
are revealed 
And as the reader 
may skim over this page,
little does one know 
what turmoil lie beneath 
each dotting of an "i"
or crossing of a "t" - 
Searching for perfection 
in an imperfect way,
to translate thought,
mindful imagery 
to a more tangible form 
The written word
scratched on a piece of paper 
shreds of detail 
pieced together
Patterns scattered about;
brilliant creation 
Something to view 
Something to think about 
And thou it is never enough
and it is never completely complete 
Even as the words begin to move 
into a slow-go finality,
there remains an endless well 
of inspiration...word flow vice

© 2015 TrilbyYates   

Unawakened Knowledge

Is this life
set in stone?
A book 
or song
with words
events
that take 
twists and turns 
allowing fleeting 
moments 
of joy 
to tempt
the stars
fate
yet to slip 
from sweet lips 
to tears 
of sorrow...
When did life 
become less 
than something 
to cherish
but rather
dread...
When did
the light of another 
day
take a turn
from a blessing
to a curse
carrying with it 
the weight 
of the world?
Somehow 
someway 
born into 
an unawakened
knowledge
yet to learn
to experience...
Wishing
to be born 
in another era 
a flapper girl
with feathers 
and wings 
that would 
sustain
silver dreams 
on moon beams
to places yet 
to be discovered...
When music 
was coming of age 
and notes 
had not yet been played
that followed 
one another 
a brilliant vibration
on spaces 
in between
held with anticipation
bated breath
and whispering humbleness (Shakespeare)
What was new
What was next
Oh yes such sweet 
silence...
The power of song 
The power of words
Creative imaginations
burst into flames 
of purest delight
Stones unturned
Flowers anticipation
to be inhaled
looked upon
in awe!
The first kiss
on the cheek
of a new child,
life with its ephemeral
glimpses of joy...

 ...when did I come to know
that this is not where 
I should be
...and yet here I am 
again and again....

© 2013 Trilby