Angel of the Night

Dear Angel of the night what a
beautiful sight you are
Awesome indeed.

Did you know expectation
failed and, I was in need?

I never asked you to listen to
my life’s affair or plight
and yet here you are
appearing from somewhere deep
inside those oceans in my mind
where thoughts sometimes swim in
a downward spiral of the never-ending
kind.

Angel of the night take me on
your fantastic flight of
imagination.
I dream of flying with you
but then…
…you know I do.

Is that why you’ve broken free of
the sea that’s threatening to
drag me down to its bottomless pit.

Did you sense me drowning?

Angel of the night, I will never
surrender your light
nor sink beneath the oceans
weight inside my mind.
You are all the goodness there will
ever be in me
so take me on that flight and
never give me up nor, let me
count the cost
for as long as I have you my
soul is never lost.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo      *All rights reserved

Shared with Three Word Wednesday CCLXXXV11 Affair, Expectation, Free
Poetry Jam Letters

The Devil’s Angel

There’s a devil on my left
shoulder
complete with horns
blood-red eyes and
sharply pointed tail.

He makes me sail close to
the wind
taunting me to
commit some sin.
He’s got his claws dug in
there deep
keeps on trying without end.

Puts me to the test
never lets me rest.

But I know he’s there….
…..whispering in my ear.

He tries his level best to
take my thoughts and deeds where
they really ought not to go

So

When he gets that bad and
I’m filled with doubt
wondering whether to
walk his black-hearted road
just to ease the heaviness of
my ‘living’ load
that’s when
I turn to the Angel on my right
because, she always guides me
back toward the light.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Shared with With Real Toads Devils

Full Spectrum Light

In full spectrum light
at this moment, now
she plays to my
becoming.

Fingers glide across
the strings
as I forget to breathe.

She bridges my thoughts
with her musical timing
attuned to my sense of wonder.

Whisks me up as light as air
with textures in notes
to pleasure even the
gloomiest of moods.

Is she fairy?
Is she Angel?
Is she even really there?

No matter
if I think she is
..she is

and her notes match
my kaleidoscopic dreams

~*~

©   Daydreamertoo       *All rights reserved

Might take me a while to get around to everyone taking part at dVerse. Had an accident yesterday and badly scalded thumb & 2 fingers. Was trying to see if the washer needed changing and forgot *rolls eyes* to turn the hot water off under the sink. Had a gusher of boiling water and was trying to screw the stopper thing back in against the pressure of water… getting my fingers scalded but not realising how badly….Duuuhhhh.
Had to go the the ER. Have 2nd degree burns. So been making this post since last night and, am having problems trying to type as I’m also right handed and at best only ever use two index fingers to type as it is. Making more typos than actual typing so please excuse, will do my best to visit you all.
The show must go on.  We are all super troopers for our craft after all   🙂

Shared with dVersePoets OpenLinkNight #41

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Fallen Angels

Fallen from grace
she is the defiant one.

She will not hide her face
in shame as she sheds those
precious wings
Softly lets them fall along
with silken garb
everything, discarded.

She is lost to them…for now.

She takes an Earthly stand
but, lifts a hand to the Heavens
begging for respite.

Resisting eternal glory
neath their golden skies of fury
they leave her upon a
pedestal way up high.

She seeks solace of the flesh.
remembers body to bodily
sharing once again.

Exploration of forbidden fruits
in those mountains, valleys and seas
of human pleasure.

One night of passion.

One night of mortal love.

One night in arms that share
their warmth and suffocate in
sensual embrace, with hearts that
beat so slow, then race to love’s
sweet culmination with kisses so
deep, they’d keep the devil’s
fires burning.

But, they will not abandon her
(she is their Heavenly child)
She will learn her lessons
and when she’s finished falling
they will hear her calling

For…

like all good parents, they love
this wayward child.

Her wings will be there…waiting
cared for by Heavenly love
and one day her parents know
she will ask if she can
come home again …just
like all the other

Fallen Angels Do.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Over the years I’ve written poems putting my own interpretations to this picture a few times. It’s such an expressive piece of artwork,  sensual body and lots of scope for different directions of thought without ever being crude and, I wonder if things like fallen angels could happen, after all according to the Bible, God threw Satan out of Heaven and, he was an Angel…right?

Shared with With Real Toads #Bodies

Let it Be

Trees shed their leaves
leaving empty arms to
shiver through the
sleeping chill.

‘Let it be’
(she said)
‘Let it be.’

So, despite the cold
I stay among the living.

Winters breath touches
now in wind whispers
soon to set everything free
to be what it ought to be.
To sleep forever
or,
to lie in dormant dreams
until spring arrives with
her promised nudges to
awaken once more.

Let it be.

Reflections on water
share passion spent in
expanding ripples and waves
increasing
until they exist no more.

The watchers are there
(I feel their presence)
listening for calls of love
from the song in my heart to lift
their vibration high into the ether
above the clouds
where more than words exist
teaching new hero’s on the ground
it’s best to just

Let it be.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo   *All rights reserved

Shared with Poetry Pot Luck #12 Feathers, Fidelity etc etc

Wings


From sleepless chaos she brings
a whisper of hope
through the silent darkness

Offers solace to my plight
with comfort of the pure
and in such stillness
spreads her wings about my pain.

With a constant faith
she shares an
out-pouring of Angel light
and through
cosmic waves of love
once more

…I am saved.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo   *All rights reserved

Sometimes we all need someone to lean on….and, I believe they hear.

Shared with G-Man’s Flash 55

Smoke & Mirrors

Although we see with our eyes
often we refuse to see that which
doesn’t please
But mirrors never lie
no, mirrors never lie.

A heart of glass
shattered from the resonance
of silence
created a thousand pieces
message in each shape
crystal clear
yes crystal clear
and, each piece cuts as clean.

A soul reached through a
fog of smoke and mirrors
to touch another who
wasn’t in the same place
and
sometimes trust has to fly
yes, trust has to fly on, with
broken wings.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo    *All rights reserved

Not too sure I did this right, the prompt was about repetition with words or lines.
Hope it fits the prompt. It isn’t about any person or any one thing in particular, just some jumbled thoughts.

Shared with dVerse Poets: Say it again, Sam, Poetics

illusion


ILLUSION

From a celestial balcony
they observe
Serene, in their divine.

They watch as we would watch
insects scurry and
jostle for a place
amidst the bones of those
who’ve gone before.

Tides rise and fall
fill the void, within.

Sometimes
I dream of emerald wings
feathers,
open
which rise slowly
lift, then flap their blessed freedoms
to a willing wind.

Oft times life hands us
ominous vibrations
but the rhythm matches
our own
and we make our choice
to either sink or, swim.

(I wonder)

Do the Angels ever partake
in this world’s created illusion
and theatrical pantomime.

~*~

© Daydreamer Too      *All rights reserved

I’m not quite sure what I was trying to say in this, I think (bearing in mind the 13 Sunday whirl words that had to be used) it’s that a lot of people seem to live in an unreal world these days. They want brilliant white teeth, no wrinkles, plastic faces to take away all signs of ageing, no grey hair, no fat. They dress their 5 and 6 year olds up in adult make-up and parade them in these beauty pagents and then wonder why they grow up screwed up as they become true adults.

 It’s all a created world of perfection, and illusion bought and paid for with money. It’s a crazy world we live in when we are not content to wear the lines on our faces with pride. I tell my teen, each line on my face was earned the hard way through winning lifes oft times hard battles and, I wear mine, with pride.

Reality is wrinkles and growing old, but with it comes the grace and the joy of learning and wisdom to know that you have made most of the big mistakes you’re likely to ever make and to relish in the fact of your inner growth.

Although I allow my thoughts to wander in their meditative daydreams, I do live in the real world. Where people still have yellowed teeth and fillings, wrinkles and grey hair, and… they are (mostly) all still, real.

Shared at: The Sunday Whirl #13 (I found this weeks words very challenging)
Poetry Pantry #58
Poetry Pot Luck #44

The Long Goodbye

THE LONG GOODBYE

Oh, how I love it
and,
here it comes again

My beloved soft-fall rain.

It trickles and tickles
slowly through my hair
then,
touches naked skin and
sets the flesh to tingle

…So alive.

In my solitude
(save my four-legged friend
wandering at will)
I watch the waters dance
in wonder
as ripples grow in perfect
plip-plop circles

…So soothing.

Don’t tell me
there is a difference
between fire and ice.
For, doesn’t each one burn
(sometimes with exquisite pain)
to remind us all of passion.

Drifting
in those plip-plop pools
of quiet contemplation
thoughts wander too, as they will

Even now,
do we already speak the
language of the Angels
once we’ve surrendered all to love

and,

Do we meet at the first hello
or,
is it really
the first long goodbye.

~**~

©Daydreamer Too          *All rights reserved

 

Author’s note:  No, we never really say goodbye.
If I have nowhere in particular to go, I’ve always loved walking in a warm soft rain.  Always found it very soothing.

Shared at One Shot Wednesday week #50

Quotes to live By

“If instead of a gem, or even a flower, we should cast the gift of a
loving thought into the heart of a friend, that would be giving as
the Angels give.” ~* George MacDonald *~

And the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud
was more painful than the risk it took to Blossom  ~* Anaïs Nin ~*~