Tangerine Sky

.
.

The sky turns orange
And begins to singe
On the fringe
I see that we are plunging
Through a tangerine sky
Lunging towards a ground we cannot see
But I expect our feet will find it soon
And as we travel our fingers slip apart
Yours are no longer intertwined with mine
But then I realise
That I am the one
The one falling like a fledging
I look back to the ledge
And see your hair your shoulder blades
And the steps you take
Away from the ledge
Now I’m falling fast and faster still

Yet I have never landed
I just keep on hovering
Hovering and choking
Hovering and choking
On orange mist

Jenna Grabey © 2013

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The Tale of Constance ~ A Broken Ballard

 

In the depths of the misty moor
Stands a castle from ancient lore
Shrouded by the tangible night
Stars hang emitting crystal light

Barn owls chase shrews and mice to kill
Across the rolling Exmoor hills
The castle built from local stone
Is enchanted with the winds’ moan

This castle has no space for time
It’s the elements greatest crime
Centuries pass all unknown
Yet see how the ivy has grown

Laying on the dungeons cold floor
A girl holds no key for the door
Thrown in there by her misery
Now she’ll cry till she finds the key

History of blood and bandages
Haunt her dreams at the fringes
In the tower a prince is found
Loneliness is what keeps him bound

To the castle, to the tower
Every single hour, tastes sour
His past wisps like the dusty wind
What he did – could it be a sin?

Constance knows the prince will save her
From the fearsome dragon, he’ll lure
The beast away, break the bars
And take her to see the stars

As hills become veiled in darkness,
Alluring music is played
On a grand piano by the prince,
This keeps the princess hoping

Every note played silences the pain from the chains
Which bind her wrists and fists
They are manacles for imprisonment,
The lock, a gaping hole, there lies

A fire, restricted, silenced
Chains of spears burn through her thoughts
Dissolution runs through her veins
Her logic has crumbled and cracked 

With the rising of many suns
She hears him on the cobbled steps
She weeps, must have slain the dragon.
Infatuation at first sight

Their bourbon eyes interlock
Transfixed.
Forgetting time, in time
Biting her lip she smiles

He breaks the bars, but he does not
Take her to see the stars
She sees the verity before her
A chilling beautiful monster

No eyes does his face hold
Or anything she ever knew
Just a frozen heart with ivory fangs
And a lurid face torn apart

She sees the awful reality
And hears the testing truth
Never again will she be chained
And never again she be pained

Her silk screams are in unison
Echoing from the high tower
The monster crying in the night
Finishes her off in a fright

Beating her to her bones
Till she falls with a thud
He wants to shred her more
But only to see more blood

Her skeleton, abandoned
On the floor that now wears her flesh
And death she now wears
As if in blessed matrimony

Constance died of a broken heart
Her melancholia is always
In the castle, every hour.
While that miscreant of Mother Nature

Winds along the dusty tunnel,
His thoughts flicker back to Constance
And his eyes turn misty in a howl,
For she is now an angels’ hymn

 

Jenna Grabey © 2011. All Rights Reserved.

 

the_tower_by_feral_dragon_art-d56xz0v

Misty Glade

Misty Glade

Within a misty glade
Upon the midnight hour
The otherworld boundary fades
In this place of mysterious power

And we listen as we may learn
The truth behind our reflection
Looking at the sky we turn
Searching for that protection

Asking for the answers we know
We sit within natures circle
What is going on below
And why must we feel to know?

© Jenna Grabey 2012. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

The Tale of Constance – A Broken Ballard

The Tale of Constance

In the depths of the misty moor
Stands a castle from ancient lore
Shrouded by the tangible night
Stars hang emitting crystal light

Barn owls chase shrews and mice to kill
Across the rolling Exmoor hills
The castle built from local stone
Is enchanted with the winds’ moan

This castle has no space for time
Is the elements greatest crime
Centuries pass all unknown
Yet see how the ivy has grown

Laying on the dungeons cold floor
A girl holds no key for the door
Thrown in there by her misery
Now she’ll cry till she finds the key

History of blood and bandages
Haunt her on her dream’s fringes.
In the tower a prince is found
Loneliness is what keeps him bound

To the castle, to the tower-
Every single hour, tastes sour
His past wisps like the dusty wind
What he did- could it be a sin?

For she knows the prince will save her
From the fearsome dragon, he’ll lure
The beast away, break the bars
And take her to see the stars

Hills become veiled in darkness,
With alluring music playing
From the prince the involved witness,
The songs keep the princess hoping

Silencing the pain from the chains
That bind her wrists and fists
Manacles for imprisonment
The lock, a gaping hole there lies

A fire, restricted, silenced
Chains of spears burn through her thoughts
Dissolution runs through her veins
Her logic has crumbled and cracked

To be continued …

© Jenna Leanne Grabey 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Narrative Poetry

The Tale of Constace
© Jenna Grabey 2012. All Rights Reserved.

The Tale of Constance
An Extract

[…]

In the tower
A Prince resides
The one that will save her
To rectify his sins.
The voracious dragon will be defeated
Its fire crumbling at his shield
Then the princess will see stars
That break the bars of time.
… Restricted
… Silenced
Flashes of hope dash through her veins and thoughts
She does not know that her logic has
crumb-
led and
cracked
She
hears
him
on
cobb-
led
steps
Their bourbon eyes interlock
Infatuation
At first sight.

[…]

© Jenna Grabey 2012. All Rights Reserved.

 

Hope

Hope

I’ll never forget those words you told me
Even though I can’t act upon them yet
But one day I will and I hope you will see
How far I have come since we first met

I shall open all the doors and windows
Let the breath of life run through the house and me
And I will let go, take a deep breath and grow
So to learn and understand the seas of emotion

Tears exist but are too frightened to fall
So anger pushes them, to find they are gone
You, your words, and the meetings I recall
Yet I still cannot sing your’ song
And tears still feel wrong

So for now, recalling your’ words I must fight
The less painful ways to escape, do it right
Forget my destructive ideas, day and night
To ensure I grow, and then you’ll be within my sight

© Jenna Leanne Grabey 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Dance to your Song

Dance to your Song

*This is in dedication to someone who helped me change my life for the better, thank-you.

I wish you were the one that had saved me
As my own body just won’t let me be
I know that you saved my mind
Because I understand your song
I ask myself, now that you are gone
Why can’t I dance to your song?

As when I dance I trip over my feet
To a song that you sang so perfectly.

And why can’t I walk on the path
A path you paved so neatly before me?

As when I walk on your path
Insanity blindfolds me so I cannot see
And fall off the path that is lit
So in darkness I now sit
What gave birth to that insanity?

As for my body
It just will not budge
If my body was your puppet
The strings would snap and I would tumble
Snapping and cracking as I crumble.

And as for my soul,
I hope the purity of my mind will be my guide
Or else, hope mercy will be my bride.

© Jenna Leanne Grabey 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Guilt that was Born in the Wasteland of Trust

Guilt that was born in the Wasteland of Trust

Within a desolate wasteland
Trust drowns  in quick sand
Trees stand, leafless lifeless twisted
But, there is one white rose, wilted
On this monotonous grey plane
Where colour has fallen down a drain,
This place it is dark, lonely and cold
For any wandering soul,
And harsh winds stream across the plain
As blood falls from the sky like rain
Though this place feels right to peer,
Another presence is drawing near
On this wasteland where there’s no trust
Blood rain falls heavy and gets coated in dust
This old presence does not trust this rose
Her ideology is what and all she knows
A cry is screeched from her side from a black crow
The rose fears she’s its foe and fills up in woe
And the white rose becomes slightly tainted
A thousand questions poured which are hated
And the white rose pleads to self to emblanch
As lightning hits a tree and snaps a branch
And crushes the tainted rose,
At the roots a pool quickly grows
Of bloody tears, pools of self-hate
And leads to opening another metaphorical gate,
As a blizzard of guilt fights through wind and rain
One can only hope to remain sane
Now what’s left is a girl – chocking, bleeding swallowing anger,
All for guilt, that was born, within, the wasteland of trust.

© Jenna Leanne Grabey, 2012. All Rights Reserved.

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