Monthly Archives: March 2014

Rubies

Planes and trains and Rusty cars

so very close and yet so far.

Pale champagne.

And Old guitars.

Nights spent dancing in the dark.

That time at the opera show

Oh how I wish you wouldn’t go.

 

Jars of parts and bleeding hearts,

scabbed over cuts and deeper scars

We’ve lost ourselves, from where we start

Sorry to say, Friends grown apart

And the years that carry in between.

So many things I could have been

 

Seeds and oils and soil and shells.

I’ve lived my life so far  not so very well

For better or not,

The seasons will change.

The oceans will swell.

As long as my stories are strange…

Oh this life, I’ll be here to write down my memories to tell

 

Dreams and queens

And Fields of bloom

And your Stories of how you touched the moon

I only laugh along because I know I’ll soon be there too – with you

 

By Shawnna Burt

Advertisements

Virtuoso

Virtuoso

I play the Serrated edges against my skin
Giving a vague suggestion of where I’ve been
A Sharp stiletto to the breast
I play the hollow chords of a sonata on my chest

I haven’t the nerve. Yet.

I see you kissing her in the dark.
I can’t take it.
My savior no more, I missed my mark.
I plunge the knife in my soul high and low
Out comes the jagged love of this
Delicious Heart
Out comes the sadness that’s been Wanting to go.

No earthly love can engage me now
Or shed a light on thee
For it is those of us
Locked away in dreams on clouds
It is those of us that see.

The Gallows

“Labyrinth”

Throughout this maze,
A blind man’s touch,
Patterned with haze,
And feeling too much.

Dark figures abound
In this labyrinth called life,
Many monsters are found,
Like the brute of a wife.

Walls drowning in shadows
And leaking with green
Straight from the gallows,
A madman unseen.

My sorrow is an ogre,
A beast in a cage,
Life living sober,
Is born out of rage.

At first I can’t look
Right into its eyes,
Like politics and crooks,
Its littered with lies.

For I cannot cry
About this story I tell
I think I will die
In this hell I know well.

As my perception grows clearer,
And as I draw nearer,
I can that its small,
Its blood and its fear,
Its nothing at all.

By Shawnna Burt

“Grace”

“Grace”
Im on my knees, Bless me father,
for i have sinned,
cool me in your holy water
For many years the light has dimmed
It’s only now you have the power
Your surface before now I’ve only skimmed

I got in too deep, I sealed my fate
What had looked like heaven was really hate

God help me!
I need your grace,
I walk beside thee
Im dying to meet your sweet embrace.
Will you sing with me?

By Shawnna Burt

My uncle Charlie, the misunderstood genius

“Charlie”
by Shawnna Burt

My father’s older brother
Charlie, a secretive hunter
Wielded an axe,
Went after my mother.

Charlie went much farther
Where angels fear to tread
Like a rose in a graveyard
Where it’s terrible and wet.

Misheard and misread
Many years had passed
We thought he was dead.

A scarecrow we found,
Without bite or bark
He was hunkered and down,
And buried in dark

His frayed checkered blanket
Which had failed as a shirt
Its pattern is faded.

With smokes up his sleeve
Lone ranger boots
Were worn on his feet.
His hair had grown wild,
Whitewater rapids,
Cowl licks and spirals.

What little I knew,
This man I had feared,
Was not far apart,
From the place I was near.
A singer, an artist
With dreams locked within pages,
That kept him apart
From the truth said by sages.

Something awakened,
A phoenix from fire,
Free to be naked.
From the depths of desire,

As his breath became words,
His voice became wiser,
The best that I’ve heard,
This angel I admired.

By Shawnna Burt

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Love Maya Angelou

Radiating Blossom ~ Flowers & Words

The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and…

View original post 47 more words

To My Doctors poem

How I wish they could have understood me.

“To My Doctors”

 

Walls of cotton

The spiral downward

Worlds forgotten

And scream of night

Away from every inch of light

You beckon me with a call

Before I really start to fall.

 

Surely you must know by now

The what, the when, the why, the how

There’s many things in life to miss

 To never know a pain like this

 

The fire, the ice

Rabid violet and bluish nice

Surely you must understand

My bloody hot red demand

You’ve run the mile,

Or so I’m told

But what a pity,

To never know this thing you hold

By Shawnna Burt