Searching for Gold

As I walk though the shadows, the moon holds my hand

A warm sense of comfort in a unfamiliar land

A land of despair where closed eyes cry

Where the old outlive the young, and birds die inside

Many spend whole lives searching for gold

Based on legends all children are told

Of true love and fame, of happiness, success

But ashes are ashes. They die just like the rest.

Creating change is hard. The night would say, but I know

To push boulders upwards is painstaking, and slow

And very risky, too, because boulders can fall down

And the fall is yours to take; you’ll find no one else around

But it is not impossible if you believe enough

Belief in something greater makes hardened cowards tough

And I’m a coward (oh, God knows) but I push boulders, too

So be careful on whom you tread lest, one day, they come after you

Diamond Mine

Your love is like a diamond mine

I dig for hours just to find

A spark of light, or glimpse of truth

But I’m the fool, for loving you

Jewels may hide miles underground

But the prize is worth it, once it’s found

But, for your love, I dig and dig

Yet I can never find anything

At Her Feet

The Bishop’s wife seals the envelope, hot wax tightening to keep the flap still. It holds another note to another illicit lover, one of the paramours she meets on Sunday mornings, feigning illness to escape her husband’s sermons.

It is only a matter of time before she gets caught, but nothing pleases the Bishop’s wife more than the game, making a fool of her husband and, yes, the whole congregation. She is neither as slim nor pretty as she once was, and the jowls around her chin hang in unsightly ways, but surrounding herself with agile young men makes her forget her age, allowing her to relive the days of her youth. And what days they were! Suitors at every corner, throwing flowers and trinkets at her feet. She had the pick of the flock, and she chose the best (richest) available: the Lord Bishop himself.

At least the man was a fool. No match for her power, the most important of decisions fell to her. Increased taxes to fuel their weekly galas, trade agreements with the diamond-mining neighbours, commandeering the finest tailors to sew her day-dresses and ball-gowns. After all, what is life for, if not to be lived?

The Bishop’s wife passes the envelope to her attendant, a simpleton with enough sense to get the letter to the postman, but not enough sense to wonder at its contents. The Bishop’s wife enjoys surrounding herself with such people. It boosts her ego, makes her feel important. Clever. Loved. Beloved. All feelings she’d thrived upon, once she had discovered them.

A pity her husband couldn’t feel the same way.

Christmas Hope

I awoke Christmas morning to the loveliest sight

A sliver of Hope had bloomed overnight

It had grown into a flower, a red Christmas rose,

A symbol of the truth that everyone knows

For Christmas is a season, a time for love and peace

And, every Christmas morning, I find myself at ease

For people might come, just as people will go,

But, as long as there’s Christmas, I’ll always have Hope

Hope blooms into beauty in the loveliest times

And Christmas is a Hope which will always be mine

Wings

But don’t they know that I, too, have wings?

And I am capable of a great many things

They might kick my face when I’ve fallen down

But give me some time; I’ll come back around

They can fly high, leave me far behind

But I am intact; I still have my pride

And one day I’ll rise, like a warm summer’s sun,

I’ll be stronger than ever. Then, where will you run?

Twinkling Lights

The most beautiful thing I ever did see

Was the twinkle of lights on a green Christmas tree

They were all different colours: red, oranges, blue,

Green, yellow, pink, and some burgundy hues

They twinkled in patterns, and they twinkled alone

They twinkled to music, in a Christmas lights show

They flashed different colours as they twinkled in lines

Each merry twinkle seemed to spell “Christmastime”

They look like the stars, if stars could glow half as bright

As a green Christmas tree wrapped in twinkling lights

Arabesque Girl

Dance high on clouds, little arabesque girl

Chassé away all the cares in the world

Pirouette faster, until everything blurs,

And laugh when you fall down, arabesque girl

You see life’s beauty when no one else does

Between flat feet and failed leaps you still find love

There’s a world you’ve discovered in tendus and splits

And you live to glissade, to relevé, to kick

So if dance brings you happiness, arabesque girl,

Keep dancing forever, and spread joy through the world

The Game

A Christmas rose blooms bright, blood-red

It’s still living, but we’re all dead

Christmas lights shine, as they did before,

But why’s my heart sinking? Shouldn’t it soar?

Where is the hope, the peace, and the joy?

Where families unite, and children play with their toys?

Something is missing here, something I can’t name

Christmas isn’t special. It’s just part of the Game.

The world is topsy-turvey, everything’s inside-out

TV, radio, paper — everyone clamours and shouts

Screaming, yelling, crying, but no one hears their pain

There’s no one left to care, is there? We’re caught up in the Game.

Shards of Heart

The Devil came to haunt me

Late one winter’s night

Snow-soaked, numb, and shivering

He was really quite a sight

I gave him several towels

And sat him by the fire

Brought him toast and mugs of tea

To fulfill his desires

But the Devil is a cunning man

From the start he had me trapped

Because I foolishly fell in love

With a man who’s heart had snapped

These such men, they know no love

They don’t even know the word

And when I told him of my love

He thought my words absurd

And then he smashed my girlish heart

Into fifty thousand shards

And time locked all the tiny pieces

Behind steel iron bars

And that was when I lost my love

And the chance to understand

That love and come and love can go

For any number of different men

Thus there was only ever one man

Who I truly did adore

And though he crudely cast me aside

He can still make my heart soar

Game of Pool

Your love is like a game of pool

You narrow your eyes, and aim your cue

And when you strike, you strike to win

Anything less is surely a sin

But I am not some game to be won

I’ve seen your games. With you, I’m done.

So aim your cue, but don’t aim it at me

You might win fifty games, but you’ll never win me.