You broke into my heart, Opened up the veins, And now it’s bleeding out. You stabbed me in the back, Ripping through my skin, Now my world is blacking out. Cut away this misery, Your twisted ways are killing me, And now I’m bleeding out.
This is an old one that was forgotten about most likely because it was never named.
It is not what is happening that scares me, It is that it already once drove me mad. It was one thing to feel her cold talons Death’s grip wrapped tightly round my throat. The darkness that choked me That night I died, I keep visiting it, In my head Again, And again. It has no end. To have fought that battle, Escaping with nothing but a scar. To survive through it all Only to see the clouds The sky blacking out. It is not the madness that fears me It is the thought of what may come last. - Andy McRae
I wish I could remember when I wrote this. Or what event of my life it is about.
Walking home on a brisk winter night I look to the sky and see Orion hung bright. I marvel at all the stars in the sky And planets that twinkle in the eye. Waiting under the lamppost aglow Watching my breath linger so slow. The snow is thick on the ground But I am only looking up tonight Searching for what can be found. --Andy McRae-- --5/4/20--
Once it was there, now it is no more Monument of white, a tower of blight A pale tree gone, dead from the bore’. Gone are views of the emerald skies ‘Would turn yellow when the wind’d bellow Coming with the summer’s demise. Now there is not where the pale tree stood But a shade of a spot where wood chips rot And a blight on the eye, once the beechwood. --Andy McRae-- --5/3/20--
The sound of still Your breathless will Daybreak until.
I love that this one is the one that has a rhyme to it. It lines up so well with how lately I have been playing around with rhyming. You could say it has been my unofficial theme this past week or so.
Wars make, take, create, then desecrate. Love gives, lives, lies, then dies. Ducks, they just go Quack Quack.
I took a Facebook post of mine from 6 years ago (today), formatted it, and slapped on a title. I makes me laugh a little when I read it. I hope it does the same for you.
They are in my head Screaming at me that I should be dead. Tearing me, ripping me apart These monsters who wanted me from the start. The echoes ringing, so far unreturned Leave me deaf, and rather concerned. Dancing flames lick before my eyes But grabbing them would be unwise. Screaming, Shouting, Roaring in my brain The sounds of battle that are under the strain Of this madness around us all the time The sickness that dwells deep within the paradigm. --Andy McRae-- --5/1/20--
Beams from beyond the window come And rest across my sleepy eye, Waking me from deep slumber Dreaming of where I am from. I sit up and let out a sigh Knowing that I am no longer under The hypnotic fantasy, A mythos that is all a lie. Feeling disappointment, I wonder What if I’d followed that fallacy, And continued down that trail Would I have made a blunder? So to cement my new legacy I will have to climb out of this vale And set out on this new odyssey. As I sit and stare, at my window’s veil, I wonder how the light broke through this tale. --Andy McRae-- --4/30/20--
Wood smoke fills my lungs
As the fire is sparked
The Sun settles in the trees
Brushing the sky a burnt pink
Sappy logs crackle
As embers burn and glow
Fire burning, breathing the air
Smoke rising from the wood
Sitting around the pyre
Tales are told
The past relived
Futures foretold
As smoke rises from the wood
Food is roasted over the flames
Cooked until burnt
Sometimes more
When the food is gone
And the wood is but embers
We say farewell
Soon all that remains
Under the stars
Is the glow of embers
And the smell of smoke.
4/5/20
From the shadows of my needs A tall haunting figure approaches Wielding a black ink fountain He begins to speak. Script flowing from his whip On the pages, the shrieking storm Of time flows out, pouring a never Ending stain of blood on the floor. Words curled around his tongue, The man of old begins To weave ice in threads Bringing you to his ends. Enter the labyrinth he presents A void of lovely comprise. In the lost times Of a word so fine We live our lives in a lie. His words are forever Permanent marks on a canvas Forever my body shall be thine. Print within the dotted line. - A R McRae
This is a old poem written back during either late high school or early college days. It was most likely written on my iPod.
RadioactivePoetry 