Midnight’s Caress

Posted in From a Melancholic Soul, Through the Passage of Time with tags , , , , , , , , on October 17, 2012 by mistressofpoetry

Sands shift slowly in worlds which collide
The heaven which I sought now falls beyond my reach
As the seasons unfold in chaos

My eyes seek the solitude of dreams
For they are the only breath that is left in me
If but for a moment I could breathe
And yet I long for them as a child longs for its mother
Desecration of warmth
Violation of sanctuary
The seas stir against me
And I fall along the path which I alone walked many times

My moon, which kisses the horizon on her way to eternity
She sings softly the gift of respite
However brevid, it soothes my heart for the night
And I dream again

Morning rises to meet the lover’s eyes
So sweetly, they join in a dance which I know not
I hear them in the footsteps of my soul
The laughter, I despise
An embrace that leaves me in want
Were it not for the solemn thoughts within midnight’s caress
I would be lost whole in emptiness eternal
Yet a darker heaven is seen more clearly
In the shadow of my reflective stare.

Crystalline Gaze

Posted in Friendship, Through the Passage of Time with tags , , , , , on July 22, 2012 by mistressofpoetry

You are no less to me than the greatness you always were.
You have only changed in the views of my physical eyes,
For my soul sees what truly is, and has found its rest in your heart.
I will never leave you; my promises remain,
For you are one of the rarest treasures that I have found.

I would die without the kinship that I feel within my spirit’s domain.
Warriors and kings of a different age rule within the marred remains of who we are,
For we have seen those battles many times, and have fought with the bravery of our souls.
You are my companion, my friend, my light in the darkest hour;
And these tearfilled eyes will never regret their vision of the true being, the core.

In this twisted misery we call life, there are few that could say what we can;
That we have found true friendship beyond that of reasoning or recompense;
That we have both leaned and carried in both sorrow and grace, to come to this point;
That you are to me what so many desire to have;
Even in the weakness of obscurity and the fate that destroys what visions create.

What I feel within my spirit cannot change, for you have not changed;
Only the illusions have been cleared from this mirror of dreams
To reveal the crystal clear perfection of truth,
For the petals of the diamond flower have revealed their insecurities;
And what I see is the glow of a more powerful bond,
Through the eyes of the soul’s crystalline gaze.

Patterns on the Mire

Posted in Goodbye, Loss, Remembrance, The Pain of Life, Through the Passage of Time with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 2, 2012 by mistressofpoetry


Rain falls softly on my field of remembrance
Years spent in the evening gloom
As the breeze breaks through my song
And I recall the echoes of a life long past

In truth, it was but a memory’s glance at salvation
For all it was worth
I never saw a smile which did not pierce my heart
With agony
With judgement
With lost hope which dared not lift its face

My confessions reach beyond the veil I drew in sorrow
Sorrow for the many truths which now lie in dust and mourning
Forgotten and torn for vultures to devour
As my soul dies gently in dreams which know no end

A heart painted black by pain, which even now you hide
An empty wish spoken to the bearer of mine eyes
But vision fell deep upon the stains you still carry
And I looked hard into your soul, and saw no tears
Only blind rage coursed through the brush you held
As I ran into the wilderness of remorse

There, behind all the laughter
Falling from each whisper of my spirit’s breath
Lay a pain which cannot find retreat
For there is no morning to embrace the dew
And no night for my setting sun
Not even a teardrop to dine upon the soil

Do not wonder at the reason
When the bells toll upon my grave
Do not dare to shed your tears
For it was you who placed me beneath the stone

The garden grows tall with the recollection
That only the ghosts are willing to speak
The rust and ruin of forgotten yesterdays
Self-evidence within the patterns on the mire
As my silent novel fearfully repeats
And marks but one last word upon a fading memory

Empty Grave

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on June 8, 2012 by mistressofpoetry

Image Property of Arielle Carroll











Here is my story for you never to hear
Here is my novel for you never to read
For those of you who never saw me
And never gave me a chance at life
This is my good-bye.

Don’t mourn, for there is nothing here but the rain
The tears I once shed have ceased,
Now the sky remembers my lament
For you who never dared to gaze
Inside this empty grave.

I’m not sorry for being less than perfect
And I bid no apologies for being what you hate
My voice is that of sadness
And it is sadness which you refuse to hear,
Filling the stones with a consuming roar of questions.

Don’t bother to turn away,
For I will be in every face that you see
Somewhere behind eyes waiting to cry
And lungs waiting to scream
And though you won’t notice, I will follow you.

I am all that you ignored in your exuberance for light
I am all that you betrayed in your haste to run away
Your denials of remorse leave me with nowhere to return
So I will haunt you
Behind these broken mirrors you look in every day.

When the wind sends a chill on that frosted heart of yours
And you seek out the warmth inside your comfortable walls
I will cause you to shudder
For it is I who will be walking atop your empty grave
Don’t pretend not to know the reason, when you never looked in mine.
It still waits.

A Silent, Whispered Prayer

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on May 18, 2012 by mistressofpoetry




Like a softly flowing stream
The raindrops from your eyes did fall
As the quill ceased its fluttering motion

A heart filled with such joyous misery
Lay broken and torn upon the soil
Unable to beat its final summoning

Restless your dreams did ponder
Like a child, quivering in the cold
Questioning the reasons why
You were left starving and alone

Was it such a mortal sin
To love so deeply
As to cherish each teardrop
And each line upon her face?

As the seasons slowly retrace their journey
Your heart will begin to heal
And forget the stains left behind
By each self-inflicted wound

May the sea like a soothing angel
Guide your soul to its rebirth
And her voice echo back lullabies
To mend your broken wings

I will hold you with my soul
And with songs command the skies
Just so that once,
You could hold the moon within your hands

And like raindrops, sail
From behind the veil of night
May it be my tears which fall
While your face shines with delight

For I would give away my joy
Just to see you smile
And shed a thousand drops of blood
To grant your heart respite

As the quill begins to speak once more
What is seen in lucid dreams
I can scarcely catch my breath

For each word etched deep within my soul
Was written by your own hands

And every hope I ever spoke to you
Was a silent, whispered prayer

Passion Defiled

Posted in Hatred, Madness, Passion and Pain with tags , , , , , , , , on March 28, 2012 by mistressofpoetry

Unlock The Secrets by Arielle Carroll

My sanity is as the rose, dying from the heat of the sun,
For there were no tears to cool the anger that raged,
Destroying this, my blossom of love
Immortality formed of desire and lust
Passion cradled in shadows which blend in portraits of madness
Embers which create the ebon of thought
A scythe of impure fantasies turned from without my mind’s eye

Your skin was formed of this hate
How could I refuse such a beautiful fantasy?
I have torn the crimson valleys,
And called forth the ancient song,
For this insatiable violence that I feel has been crushed
Beneath the ribbons of unforeseeable divinity, entwined in your hair,
Which falls asunder in the pools of a satin death, where I laid thee to rest

A love filled with such unmistakable hatred
How conquest was brutally won with the power of consummation
Writhing in the chasms of your scream
Dare you to split the sky with this fornicated fantasia?
Little I have dreamt past these emissaries of pleasure and pain
Contained in those eyes which stare wantingly,
Yet they grow pale at the undaunted act of aggression which I commit

Silence awakens with the bells
Hysteria ceases its hold upon my mind
Eyes which, red with anger, fade into the ocean they held before
I have created this landscape of terror
Streams which run towards lakes of atrocity fill my view
I will hide them within the fortress of my soul
Until the dawn comes for me, wrapped in darkened flames of vengeance

The things which these eyes portray are a portal of never-ending wrath
Hidden in the vortex of madness
Seething with the chaos which unseats your deities from their thrones
Smiling with agony and scorn from a past well devised in rejection
I would wrap your world around my blade
Its vanity is too great to view from mine
Until passion spreads its wings once more, defiling the pure hate within…

Of the Rain

Posted in From a Melancholic Soul, The Madness of Art with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 11, 2012 by mistressofpoetry

Characteristic Circles of Droplets by Arielle Carroll

A black cat graces the upholstery
As I sit in the filtered spectacle of fading light.
Towers gaze at me from a distance,
But I am much farther than they —
Drifting, somewhere in the mist-filled horizon of dreams.

She sings softly to my companion and I —
Her voice as soothing as any I have heard —
Injecting memories both fond and powerfully distraught,
Though, for the latter – the ghosts are inescapable,
And I have come to terms with their melancholia.

I smile, knowing the grievance by which she comes.
She understands the plight I bear as the sun crosses paths with its elder reflection —
That pain, which I write so eloquently upon the parchment —
It is my salvation from the haunted dancer who lurks in every corner of my mind,
Satiated only by my end; but she will stay my fear.

I would that days such as this remained always with me.
Though no other could see such beauty in her ways, I see ecstasy.
The patterns in her tears are nourishment to me
As art paints itself upon the canvas of my soul and flows to the pen;
And her imaginations enchant me beyond the comfort of sanity.

Nature embraces her chilling caress in blossoms of vibrant hue;
Chants fall from the children of the soil;
And the drums of the mother’s heartbeat reverberate aloud.
I could fall thousands of times,
But her kisses will always cover my frail weepings.

My heart would join with the silhouette on my window,
Tracing stream-like fingers which touch my inner workings.
Would any wise man embrace her love,
He would rejoice in such comfort,
For her passion would melt the stoniest heart who dared to touch her tears.