Pennywise

He shimmered turquoise,
With an iridescent white,
Scales glistening, fins flaring,
Like an array of starlight.

From a small half-foot deep bowl
To one o’er a foot in height,
He journeyed through strange waters,
In almost surreal flight.

Now he lies, all cut and spent,
From human neglect and slight,
From hot to cold, cold to hot,
He loved to prove he could fight.

He shimmered, just days past, in a vast tank:
The Lord of All, sparkling amethyst delight –
He lies, chalk white, on his side, in a bowl,
But won’t go gentle into that good night.

In the Arms of Night

Once again I find myself
Alone, in the arms of Night;
Where else could I be,
As the mighty Sun gears up to fight?

He governs the world
And every Law of the Land:
Hope must bend to Him
And Love must understand.

The Moon is the quiet Wife,
The stars are each a far-off Son;
Against the Sire who else can shine?
Before His Light each is made to fade or run.

The Sun burns.
He compels me to bend.
The moon soothes,
Even if She cannot defend.

Light cancels Dark –
Law and Order shine best;
But I am the Dark,
I am that Time of Rest.

Nature loves both equal:
Be it Moth or Butterfly,
It is free to choose Night or Day,
As your Time to Live or Die.

So I have walked in Dark,
I have not feared the Night,
I have loved the quiet Moon
And I have chosen not to fight.

Parent

I am the one who’s supposed to love thee –
And age has been mercilessly cruel –
Its rampage has destroyed both love and hope,
Like careful fire thrown on some spilt fuel.
I was raised looking up at and to you,
In life’s battles you gained an awesome height.
I took your word as the ultimate law,
And I was never one to choose to fight.

Time, unfailingly, is the best teacher,
It raises the weak and topples the high,
It marks the practice against the preacher,
It stand right up and demands to know why.
Blind was supposed to be all love for thee,
Now how do I do, for now I can see.