The last rhyming poem I ever wrote… I think you’ll be able to see why I stopped.

The Dance

Shackled and chained to my own fears
Drowning in the blood and tears
Trapped here by my own grace
Its hard to look you in the face

You words are kind and comforting
But each day I wind up wondering
Is there truth behind the words you say
Or do they carry me to die another day

The shackles and chains grow tighter
I can feel my head getting lighter
Searching desperately for a way out
I wish I was not filled with such doubt

The world around me ceases to exist
As it did when we first kissed
More than anything, I fear the pain ahead
So to this darkness around me I have wed

I cower from the love, the light
To the darkness I hold on tight
I do not wish for you to care
I am not a possession for you to wear

The silver-tongued demon that you are
You words still seem so far
Then, in front of me materializes a key
The key that could potentially set me free

Should I, dare I take the chance
Should I let you lead this dance
The dance of love, of life, and strife
Ending when you shove in the knife

Your words grow more deperate and longing
I begin to feel a sense of belonging
The change in your words makes me realize
The truth I have seen in your eyes

I believe you mean what you say
Your love is true, at least today
I use the key to set myself free
From the self-imposed hell I flee

Hoping that I am not too late
I come to you and face my fate
Although I believe I will be turned away
I decide hear what you have say

My fears resolved and with open arms
I give myself unto your charms
I turn my head downwards in shame
And I notice that you do the same

Unable to hide the love in my eyes
I turn my face upward to the weeping skies
Unbearable is the pain I feel
The skin on my face begins to peel

The face emerging, my true self
Hidden long ago on the back shelf
Love unrestricted, once deeply hidden
I offer to you for what you have given

Will you accept me, I cannot tell
But you have broken me free from hell
Once shackled and chained to my own fears
Now treading above the blood and tears

~Kryson

Natura Naturata

Life began with one hint of existence,
A thought, an idea, a dream.
An empty space,
An endless void
brightened with a spark of light,
An inconsistancy, a movement.
This was God.

~Kryson

Another very old one. Second to the last rhyming poem I ever wrote if I remember correctly. Bad, bad, bad.

Leather into Lace

When love was furthest from my mind,
When life was harsh and unkind,
I found you sitting by my side,
Ready to be again, my guide.
The incredible torrents of the sea
Did sink and almost drown me,
But you were there to drag me out.
You helped me win another bout,
But when I lost internal sight,
There was war and external blight.
You turned away like those before.
I watched you walk slowly to the door.
Afraid I would lose you forever,
I took on my last endeavor.
I gently grasped your hand in mine,
Hoping for it to be a sign.
You smiled and pulled me in tight.
We talked and talked into the night.
Then, you began to understand
That all I needed was a hand.
A hand to guide me into the light,
Out of the shadows of the night.
Someone to praise my humble deeds
Is what this girl sometimes needs,
But at times just a little space
Will turn my leather into lace.
So, when my words become unkind,
I believe that you will find,
Taking simple interest in my life
Will lessen the toil and strife,
And giving me a break sometimes
Turns words from daggers into rhymes.

~Kryson

The glass broke
As I threw it across
The dull wooden floor.
Like silver flakes of snow,
Chips of glass fell to the ground,
Sparkling in the sun ray
From my bedroom window.

~Kryson

I felt the cool rain strike my warm face,
Stinging.
Mixing with warm tears.
A distance of a thousand years,
The time of a million miles.
A bursting heart within a barren soul.
Contradiction.
Two hearts, two minds, two lives
joined as one,
Suspended.
A perfect world in a shattered glass bottle,
To be looked upon and repaired…
Tommorow.
The Earth cries for me.

~Kryson

I am but a pebble
in the sands of your memory
I am but a rose
within the garden of your recall
I am but a single person
among the millions
you have encountered
But I hope that I have sparkled
just a little brighter
that you might love me
just a little more

~Kryson

A blinding light shines from behind his deeming eyes.
I bear my claws, attempting to sway him from attack.
Unsuccessful.
Wielding his scythe above his head, the lifeless, turbulent man steps
towards me and stops.
“I dare you!” I shout into the barren night.
With one swift motion his scythe cuts through the thick blackness
and rips into my hollow chest.
Dropping the scythe, he forces his hand through my cavity to seize my
dying heart.
Suspending it in front of me, he laughs demonically and says, “I wanted to
touch that which only I could have broken.”
Returning my shriveled heart to my chest, he heals my wounds with loving
words, soft kisses, and a gentle embrace.
Someday he will be the death of me.

~Kryson

Trapped within the world I have created,
I hunger for only you.
The pain of desire, overwhelming.
Blood filled tears stain my aged face.
I would sprout wings and fly, but I cannot
for I am a cat prowling the night for my
next victim.
When I try to love, I only devour.

~Kryson

I’m going to be posting bits and pieces of old stories and poetry I find on my HD or in files at the back of my file cabinets from time to time. Most of these are from round robins, author duels, or fan fic from years passed. I found myself keeping them not only because I was enjoying myself, but because they were written during a time when I had the most support I had ever experienced when it came to my writing.

These will be raw postings, so don’t be surprised if they’re chalked full of every error and no-no imaginable. You never know how old some of these pieces are, so some of them might be absolutely terrible. I might do something with these in the future… but for now, they are a nostalgic look into the past for me and I hope at least moderately enjoyable for you.

Pine Cone

Dead on the outside
Yet something stirs deep inside
The signs of new life

-Kryson