Tag Archives: Artist

Dawn

People go on with their lives, ignoring what is around them,
They are too busy with their tasks to spare even a thought,
To the glory of what is unfolding all around them,
They all have eyes but they don’t bother to see,
They all have ears but they don’t care to listen,

I sit in my car as I drive along to where I’m going,
Yet I can see and hear the joy that is to be known,
My heart leaps, spurred by fierce anticipation,
I see the steady brightening of the sky,
I hear the cheerful rejoicing of birds,

Then at last a beam of light breaches the horizon,
The first warm, golden rays of the rising sun,
I smile as I greet the coming of the dawn,
I behold the gift of a precious, new day,
I know better than to take it for granted.

Polaris

He sits upon his vaulted throne,
To rule over his heavenly domain,
Upon his head, a golden crown,
His eyes sparkling with a hot flame,
His wings and hair are of soft gold,
His heart blazes with a blinding light,
And as the sun prepares to set,
He calls for the sky to shine bright,
And all heed him and come flying,
Their wings and hearts also ablaze,
He spreads his wings and flies aloft,
And they all follow, ready to obey,
He leads them in a heavenly dance,
And they twirl and whirl around him,
For he is the mighty King of Stars,
Gloried and great, regal and prim,
His name is Polaris, his rule absolute,
His voice is gentle yet like thunder,
And he and his stars always dance,
To put on a nightly display of wonder,
Until the dawn’s light begins to near,
And he returns his people to their dens,
And they rest their wings for the day,
Until the King of Stars calls them again,
For they always heed his beck and call,
To rise up and to take flight of wing,
For his authority and words are gentle,
And great is the joy that his people bring.

Goals

Eyes on the prize,
Trying to realize
a long-held goal,
Resisting the toll,
Keeping strong,
Fighting all along,
Goals held tight,
Not taking flight,

Fierce to the end,
‘Round the bend
awaits the success
of winning no less
than the victory
of sweet reality,

Goals made real,
Serendipity’s seal
on a life led well,
Such a story to tell
when goals great
and small create
such halcyon bliss
Nothing amiss.

BY: Hegemony

Vector to the Heavens

The girl collapses into his arms,
Eyes welling up with gentle tears,
Telling him it’s better this way,
Telling him he did the right thing,
This was their last confrontation,
Their very last struggle together,

Her smile begins to fade away as
he weeps tears of confused pain,
Brushing her hair back, holding her
close as she slowly begins to die,
With her last few breaths, she
reminds him of a dark promise,

She had promised him a sacrifice,
For it was by fate’s cruel hand that
only one of them could even exist,
They were both remnants of the
same person, fragmented pieces
of one persona and one mentality,

Only with her death could their
fractured memories be complete,
Only with her death could they
become one and the same again,
She begins to turn into pure light,
offering him such futile comfort,

Slowly, her body crystallizes and
she drifts off into the night sky,
Becoming but one faceted light
among so many jeweled stars,
Even as her memories merged
with his, he cried out for her,

Such was her courage in the face
of an unspeakable and cruel fate,
This was her final act, a last gift
bestowed to a now grieving friend,
She had charted a vector to the
heavens before they’d even met.

BY: Hegemony

Campfire Chorus

The men gathered up fresh logs of wood and
dumped them into a stone encircled pit,

As they toiled and labored, other men worked
to set up tents of stitched-together animal hide,

Then, in a flash, a hot fire blazed ten feet into
the air and the men crowded themselves around,

They laughed and grunted while feasting upon
roasting meats and pipping-hot bone marrow,

The rosy smell of smoke curled and wafted about
the campsite as they finished with their meals,

Taking turns with their stories of mighty beasts
and miles of traveling, stories of the woodlands,

Sharpening their swords and knives, taking the
time to check their equipment and weapons,

Shedding off layers of leather garments to make
themselves more comfortable for the night,

But not before serenading the wilds with a chorus
of old words and tunes that speak vividly of home.

BY: Hegemony

Through the Track of Unknowness

I can hear someone crying.
Pretty loud surely,
But, its origin is beyond my sight.
Nor its owner is within my vigil.

Deep and doleful, it is.
Wrapped in a patch of gloom;
It sounds so.
And the tears,
Must be brimmed with utmost depth.

It is a cry, relentless and painful.
Indeed is running across
A path of persistence.
Cannot resist even a thousand tons of boulders.

Engulfed me with its touchy depth.
A cry of enchanting melody, it is.
Its depth, not be found among the natives;
In fact, is non-existent.

Every beat by beat in my heart,
It grows deeper;
And lingering, not to mention.
It now remains neither touchy nor depth full
But, sinister.

‘Please, do stop!’
No answer for required respond.

It caught me in its sadness.
So firm a grip,
I grew helpless teased by emotion.
My patience running down,
Gazing upon for the owner.
My eyes reached the end of their tether.

But, never did the stranger ever made his appearance.
Before my thirsty vigil.

Traumatized and annoyed, I am.
Desperate and vindictive.
Blowing out little sighs of failure,
For the unknown owner.

A spring of black water
Spread upon my withered heart.
It got heavy with anxiety for unknownness.
Very sore, not to mention.

However, I succeeded.
I found its origin.

The cry has its no native owner.
But, creeping through the cracks
In my melancholy heart.

I heard it reach my ears,
When I am wretched with depression.

So, the owner remains no one
But, I and my heart,
Bleak and barren.

Solitary Star

Will You Love Me

Will you still be loving me
when my hair is silvergray,
when my memory, unfortunately,
so slowly fades away?

Will you still be loving me
when my teeth are gone for good,
when no longer I am capable
of pleasing like I could?

Will you still be loving me
when my chest can reach my knees,
when all I do is whine about how
you never fill my needs?

Will you still be loving me
when my skin looks like a prune,
when my eyes and ears, my dreams and youth
no longer are in bloom?

Will you still be loving me
when my life has come to end,
will you then be looking back
on precious days we spent?

@Sнσʋтɛvɛnsнʏ