She
loves and loves but is not loved. For she is barren of the fertile fields to
grow a child. All she wanted was to be allowed to love. But we always strive to
do what is forbidden. And here it is: the rotten fruit of impoverished love.
The sky was black as charcoal pits, dusted with
speckled stars
Ashen grey surrounds the land
Smothered with burning flowers.
The time when clouds shrivel away
When the Sun makes her bed
At the end of the day –
The Moon himself appears with Hope,
Of meeting his Love
Who sets the distant pole -
Where their love can never be found
For distance - darkness forbid it
And they are not Fated to be bound.
The time when Light-time creatures stop;
And Night-time villains stir
And children drift, still in their beds, like
sweet little corpses.
Now a twisted dark shadow creeps from her hollow
home,
Uncurling her limbs, unfolding her bones,
Like spindly branches against the yellow Moon’s
glow.
She gasps a worn breath –
For she is alone.
Miss Scorpio is always alone – even past death –
From the moment she burst forth from the fiery
pits below
Forming a woman in thin, black dress with lace
like a spider’s webs,
She was alone.
But oh, how she despises having nobody to care
Nobody to hold, nobody to tend to,
Leaving her an empty phantom, wretched, torn,
bare.
Every day is hell, every second, misery;
Yet it is all made lighter by the Moon
Who shines over her fears and wishes, eagerly.
He is her ambient Hope.
The Light deep beneath her blackened spirit.
That can never escape the prison where she
chokes.
The Moon too is lost in despair,
But shines brightly each dark night
In false Hope and care.
Miss Scorpio plucks a star from the glistening
skies
Where stars shine like jewels, mockingly with
their togetherness.
She smothers its brightness; in her frail arms
it lies;
Momentarily, the brimstone in her core
rekindles,
There is a quiescent crispness in the air
As she smiles, skips, glows like a candle
Not caring for her life that burns away
With each hour that passes,
For she has found something to love! Just for
one day -
Until that star quickly fades, from white to
orange, to dull brown
Then to black, like the two charred, bottomless
holes in her sockets.
The heat cools, her trembling arms release the
star, her face twists into a frown
Hot tears streak down her dirt-speckled cheek
Scarring her dark and beautiful features
With deep channels, now trickling red down to
her feet.
Says she: ‘This pain is slight,
‘Compared with the jolt that forever thumps my
core’.
Now, the black ball of dimpled rock takes flight
Down from her body, frozen, scored, wild
Leaving her numb Soul barren, untouched,
Having held that dimming star, cradled like a
child.
But Hope is the fuel for any fire.
Miss Scorpio – Nature's Widow –
Never did her efforts to love expire:
Miss Scorpio once walked in the Midnight Meadow
Stopped, picked a flower from the dark fields of
green,
Shaking it with joy, as the wind sped her on
with each blow
And she ran through the grove
With this new Heart’s desire towards the rays of
tomorrow.
For it is so beautiful to have something to love
–
But soon, the nodding flower’s petals
Dropped out one by one, escaping her desperate
clutches in the cold breeze
Leaving a grey stalk, bent like soft metal
Flying this way and that as they fell
In wispy circles, through dark clouds
Flying to another part of hell.
Miss Scorpio’s Soul bleeds
As her red tears slowly streak down her dark
dress
Down like a deadly bullet surpassing time
itself, as it speeds
Through a hard granite chest
Containing the Treasures of Life,
Repelled, ricocheted, is forced down to a grim
death.
*
*
*
Miss Scorpio is still waiting for Life to start
For a fraction of joy, for a sign from above, –
As her dark Soul will never rest until it
possesses a Heart.
Copyright © JRFB 2013
