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Perth to Melbourne

Contrasts, Fitzgerald NP, WA

AUSTRALIA | Friday, 3 October 2014 | Views [107] | Comments [1]

Contrasts, Fitzgerald NP, WA

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1

Monochromatic Diversity

Desert Relic
Trickling through the wind,
the grains of time
are lost
in the susurrant echoes
of hypnotic dunes.

Against a sun bleached canvas,
circling wings cast their vestiges,
watching and searching
for life among
printless ruins.

Old legends fade away,
like the dying sunset,
to mortal slumber.
While spirit totems guard
a legacy lost in the sands.
Roxanne
January 23rd, 2014, 05:47 PM
The Dazzling Beauty
Flashing lights
and neon signs -
A city of energy;
Crackling zest.

Strobe lights
dance the night away
under dazzling myriad stars.
The rush of colourful air,
sparking current in our veins.
Our heads incline
in electric exhilaration,
laughter bubbling away.
Hearts flickering;
Love in technicolor.
The circuit of passion
enters overdrive
as the race for victory
intensifies.
The race never ends,
and the city lights never fade.

Flashing lights
and neon signs -
The city of life
that never dies.
Roxanne
January 25th, 2014, 07:11 PM
Superstitions
Urban frost spews
from the jaws of the earth,
smothering slabs of stone
in its chilly gaze.

The tales of old protects us,
from the demon of ignorance -
a wise elder's weakness.
The walls shut the terror out,
encasing shadows within.
Backs to the past
still remain trapped
in wrinkled myths.

The silhouettes in a blizzard
are just harbingers of
a living nightmare
in which we walk in.
What great monstrosity lurks in the night,
to rip our minds apart
and bring loved ones to depart.
How can something cold keep the chill away?
How can the bones of the dead still rattle in the day?

As the sun casts no light behind the walls,
the walls cast no relief from the ghosts
in our frozen minds.
Roxanne
January 26th, 2014, 08:04 PM
Subway to the Outside
I sit in a tube; a carriage of white walls.
Cold steely air stirs from a shaft somewhere.
The soft whistle of a door sliding shut,
A metallic grunt easing out into the world.

The shutter of a camera flashes outside;
Darkness and day like frozen vignettes.
The manufactured masterpiece we live in
transitions into a world stripped away of its former glory.

Despair greets me in stills,
like a film left to age.
Not a speck of white
in the grayscale horizon.

The crooked fingers of an old lady clawing at the bleak sky
is all that remains of our home.
Once the pinnacle of mankind,
now a towering tomb.

Quarantined from the rays and fumes,
I am but an alien to this desolation.
A looker of the past, a gazer of the abyss.
Never to understand.
Roxanne
January 27th, 2014, 06:58 PM
Red Etude
The sorrow of the world, it
Plucks
Plucks
Plucks at my sinews.

The strife in the world, it
Tears
Tears
Tears my heart apart.

The weak and little have unheard songs,
The dove no longer has its voice.
The rhythm is broken with howls and jeers.
Chords above necks are in spilled red mist.
Screaming, screaming, forever in your head.

I can feel it - the dying - in my sleep.
The oppression, the worries, the deaths.
The grays a muse paints on an inert horizon,
in abstract emotion.
I can feel it but I am a shell.
Lost.

What can my melodies do?
What good can become without memories?
The arias traverse the skies but they are hollow,
the pirouettes are lifeless like puppetry.

The red that marred the world,
I will clean it with a song,
With dance restored in my shoes.

An ancient chime will redden the wilting sky on that day.
Peace will settle like crotchets on bars,
And it will not pause. Not a quaver off.
And I,
will find my voice back.
Roxanne
January 28th, 2014, 07:03 PM
Bridge of Glass
A walk in the crystal azure,
A looking-glass to the vast.
Aquatic life in a slow winding recorder,
Against a cinematic coral backdrop.

Sometimes I wonder,
how a bridge of glass
can remain intact underwater.

The revelation of an old sight, his wisdom echoes:
To be as calm as the currents,
To be like the lax Wailord that cruises
through untroubled waters;
a life without a ripple in the heart.

That is to live on a bridge of glass, connecting two cities through thick and thin.
A brittle beauty encased in a marine vista.
Roxanne
January 29th, 2014, 09:36 PM
Sweet Dreams
Dreams
are
figments of fantasy
trapped in reality.

My past,
Trapped in phantasmagoria.
Tormented with my own creations,
A blanket of death's weave.

Listen to me:
My prayers have not been in vain.
I will find my rose behind unlocked doors,
I will find my waltz in an elegant reverie.
I will awaken with the honey of tomorrow on my tongue.
I will cast my worries onto the clouds of silver.
I will
dream.
Roxanne
January 31st, 2014, 02:57 AM
Phenomenal
Grass
rustles;
signs of life.
Surprise, lucky
one!

A
shadow
looms above.
Its gift is light,
though.

Dust
rises.
Tirelessly,
an Excadrill
digs.

Life
ripples
underneath
a surface of
calm.
Roxanne
January 31st, 2014, 10:52 PM
Freedom
Raise the unfurled banner!
Hear the trumpets' fanfare!
The wind sings of a future,
a future we will parade to.

Release the chains that holds us in,
The red plasma barrier that smite us.
The metal bonds that imprison us,
and suppress our every sense and wit.

The mark of the pokeball shall be cast aside!
No mercy bestowed to the wretched slave masters,
the antagonists of justice.
They use us as tools and laugh at us gladiators,
fighting ourselves over nothing.
Arise comrades, break the shells encasing you!

Freedom: ringing in our arteries,
sounding with every beat of the drumming heart.
Eyes blooming with fire and fog,
like an untamed force of nature,
crushing everything in its path.
The blazing trail of freedom is a beacon of hope for the weak,
A righteous cause to uphold.
We bear the torch until our dying breath,
Our souls the candles of glory in the battlefield,
Twinkling like gold and silver in the face of a revolution.
Freedom forgives but never forgets.
We will never forget.
Roxanne
February 1st, 2014, 11:34 PM
Endgame
At the end we shall meet again.
Looking past ambitions and lies;
Tradition and modernity.
Where it all begins again.

At the end we shall meet again.
Within lightning-infused truths
and white-hot ideals.
Where the fire ends and the ice begins.

At the end we shall meet again.
After the past has been torn apart,
And the future patched up.
Where we once stood side by side.

At the end we shall meet again.
When our troubles have laid dormant.
When our blood shall forge peace.
Where our dragons were born as one.

  A Pokemon Poëtry Anthology Nov 23, 2014 11:06 AM

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