Archive for Poetry Train
Poetry Train…
Hey everyone, first off, I posted a interesting (imo..lol) post over at SEx, Liquid Silver’s blog about two movies I saw over the weekend. 🙂 Stop by and leave a comment for me.
And I didn’t have time to write a new poem for you all. This weekend was crazy busy, so I thought I’d give you a peek at a little scene I wrote. This is for the fourth book in a series I’m planning on writing…lol. Yes, another one of those teases. The series is called Blood of Eden. It’ll have werewolves, vampires and angels in it, plus other things. This story is titled Babel’s Salvation. Here’s the beginning of the first chapter. (I think..though there might be a little more to it when I finish)
Excerpt:
“What do I do now,” Salvadore murmured to himself, hands clenching his hair.
“You shouldn’t be talking to yourself. You aren’t remotely old enough for that.”
He jerked his head up to find a tall lean man standing next to his table. The man’s silver eyes met his and he knew. This was no ordinary man. This man was the thing of legends.
“I know who you are,” he informed the man.
Tilting his head, the stranger conveyed a question without words.
Sal dug through the piles of papers and books, reading the different languages without pause. Russian, Greek and Hebrew. English, Spanish and Italian. The words as familiar to him as his own name. The stories told of hundreds of men who gave their lives to keep a secret safe. He pulled out a photocopy of an Illuminated Manuscript page and pointed at the being represented there.
“You are one of the Paladins who protect the secret.” Sal sighed, his head pounding and his heart racing. Where were his pills? He bent over, reaching for his backpack. Had he remembered to put his pills in there that morning when he rushed from his apartment?
A large hand jerked him upright and his vision blurred as his head spun. His chest constricted, causing his lungs to burn and the air disappeared from them. He gasped, having no choice but grab the man’s arms and hold on.
“S-h-h-h…take a deep breath. It’s okay.”
Shaking, he focused on the man kneeling beside him. Those silver eyes pulled him in and the vise on his chest eased. Sal’s breathing fell into rhythm with the stranger’s until he could sit without worrying about passing out. When the man was satisfied Sal wouldn’t fall off his chair, he pulled a chair over to sit in.
“Why do you think I’m one of those Paladins, I think you called it?” The man nodded at the picture.
“You’re the one who doesn’t die. The other three die and are reborn in new lives.”
Resignation shone in the man’s silver eyes. Sal was right, but he didn’t feel vindicated or anything like that. He was tired. For years since being released from the hospital, he’d spent almost every waking hour searching for the reality to the dreams he’d been plagued with all of his life. He started to stuff the papers and books into his bag. The stranger helped him. When they were finished, he stood. The man towered over him.
Slipping a hand under Sal’s elbow, the man started to escort him from the library. “You’ll come with me.”
“Are you going to kill me?” He ignored the gasp coming from a patron walking past them.
“No. We are going someplace where we can discuss this. I am not the one who kills.”
“Who does then? One of the other Paladins?”
A calloused finger covered his lips. “Not another word. This is not the place for us to talk about secrets.”
Nodding, Sal indicated he understood. The finger left his mouth and he asked, “What is your name?”
“My name is Babel.”
“Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?” Sal couldn’t let that thought go. People who found out about the Paladins died.
“Paladins don’t kill unless we must. The Blood of Eden doesn’t need our help killing those who search for it.”
Copyright c.2008 T.A. Chase
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Stop by Rhian’s blog to see who else is on the train.
Poetry Train
The series is called Sweet & Sinister Confectioners and here’s the blurb for the series:
If you were to ask the locals in Salem, Massachusetts how long the Sweet & Sinister Confectioners shop has been there, most will tell you it’s been there for at least a hundred years. They tell stories of going there with their grandparents and picking out treats for Valentine’s Day or Halloween. They tell you memories passed down from their great-grandparents about the shop and how it’s always been run by members of the Sweet and Sinister families. They’ll say what an old dear Sylvanus Sweet is and how Cyrus Sinister has been a devoted partner to Sylvanus for over fifty years.
But if you happen to run into a local who believes in magic, they’ll give you a sly wink and tell you there’s something special about the candy and candles those two men sell. If you’re attuned to the things that go on unnoticed in the world, you’ll feel the power filling the air from the moment you step foot into the shop.
For Sweet & Sinister Confectioners is more than just a candy store. Magic and dreams are created there for all who enter with a pure heart and believe.
The tinkling of the bell brought Sylvanus from the back of the shop. He knew the sound annoyed Cyrus, but the bell hung over the door to catch Sylvanus’ attention and let him know he had a customer. Both he and Cyrus tended to get caught up in their pet projects.
Cyrus love, we have a customer. He sent a thought towards Cyrus’ side of the store.
The man was in his thirties. A professional corporate man dressed in suit and tie. His blond hair was perfectly styled. An impeccable image of the American dream of a successful life, yet Syl could tell the man wasn’t happy. Syl moved and the man glanced up, his green eyes widening at the sight of Syl.
“Hello. My name is Sylvanus and welcome to Sweet and Sinister Confectioners. How may I help you?”
“I’m Terrance Bernslip. I’m not sure what I came in to find. I don’t eat chocolate.” Terrance’s handshake was firm.
“But your boyfriend does.” Syl slipped his arm through Terrance’s and lead him away from the white chocolate aisle.
“Yes, he does, but he’s not my boyfriend anymore. Decided he wanted someone more fun than I am.” Terrance shook his head. “Sorry. Haven’t gotten over him yet. How did you know it was a boyfriend?”
Syl pointed to the discrete rainbow sun-catcher in the candy shop window. “We have matching rainbows.”
Terrance fingered his rainbow tiepin. “So we do.”
“Your ex thought you were boring and no fun.” Syl tilted his head and studied Terrance. “Do you want to prove him wrong and get him back?”
Terrance shook his head without hesitation. “I’m still a little hurt about the break up, but I’ll get over it. I don’t need to prove anything. I like to have fun. I just like to have it privately, not in clubs every night or at parties.”
Syl ran a finger along Terrance’s chin. “Ah, you are much like my Cyrus. You seem boring and dull to others, but in private with the one you love, you are all fire and passion.”
Terrance’s cheeks turned red, but he nodded. “I’d like to think so.”
Syl patted Terrance’s cheek. “I know you are. I’m an expert on passion. So whom would the chocolates be for? Do you have your eye on a handsome stud at work? Maybe you can be a secret admirer. St. Valentine’s Day is coming up soon.”
“No potential boyfriend. I’ve just started wanting to look again.” Terrance looked confused.
Syl could tell the man was wondering why he was telling Syl all of this. He smiled. He tried to make every customer feel comfortable, as if they were coming to a friend’s house.
“Yes. When your heart is hurt, it takes a while for you to heal and be willing to risk loving again. So who would you like to send chocolates to?”
“My friend, Scott. He’s been letting me cry on his shoulder even though he just lost his partner to a heart attack.” Terrance shrugged. “I want to get him something to show him how much I appreciate his support.”
“Oh that poor man. I want to meet him. Please bring him back to see me.” Syl lead Terrance to the aisle where the chocolate dipped strawberries were. “I think your friend likes decadent and expensive things. Am I right?”
“Mike, Scott’s partner, and I used to tease Scott about being a princess.” Terrance laughed.
“Now everyone deserves to treat themselves once in a while. What I suggest is a basket with strawberries, champagne, candles and some bath oils. I’d be willing to put one together for you and it can be delivered tomorrow, if you wished.” Syl plucked a strawberry from the platter and held it out for Terrance to taste.
Terrance’s white teeth flashed as he bit into the fruit. A soft moan echoed through the store.
Got another one, love. Cyrus’ dark voice vibrated in Syl’s head.
It’s the ingredients you add to the chocolate. Syl praised his lover.
Cyrus laughed. Nevertheless, you put the joy in it, love and that’s what makes our sweets special.
“Scott will love it. Can you make up a basket for me? I don’t care how much it costs.” Terrance picked up a box of chocolate-covered cherries. “I’ll take a box of these for myself.”
“Sylvanus loves to hear those words. I’ve accused him of being a bit of a princess himself.” Cyrus’ arms slid around Syl’s waist and pulled him tight against his lover’s hard chest.
Terrance’s eyes widened and Syl caught the flicker of fear in them. Cyrus tended to do that to people. “Cy, stop teasing Terrance.” Syl leaned back, trusting in Cyrus to support him.
“I wasn’t teasing him. I was merely stating the truth. Telling Sylvanus that money is no object is tantamount to opening the vault at a jewelry store and telling a thief to take all that he wants. My love has very good taste.” Cyrus brushed Syl’s hair out of the way and nuzzled his neck.
“It’s obvious he does. He’s your lover.” Terrance looked surprised. It was apparent that he didn’t mean to say that thought aloud.
He’s a good man, Cyrus. Syl reached out and took Terrance’s hand. He brought the younger man closer to him. Without breaking Cyrus’ hold around his waist, Syl leaned in and brushed a gentle kiss over Terrance’s mouth.
Those beautiful green eyes blinked, but Terrance didn’t pull away. When the kiss was over, Syl pointed to the cherries. “That’s a gift from Cy and me. I’ll make sure Scott’s basket is beautiful. Do you have a business card so I can call you with the total cost?”
Syl took the card Terrance held out to him. He moved off towards the back of the store. “I want to get started on your basket right away. Cy, can you show him out?”
*
Cyrus smiled as his lover disappeared into the back. Terrance had a shell-shocked expression on his face. He didn’t protest as Cyrus took his arm and started to escort him to the front door.
“Sylvanus is a bit like a butterfly. Bright, beautiful and tends to flit from one project to another. However, don’t worry. When he focuses that awesome mind of his, he can do magical things.”
“Thank you for everything.” Terrance shook Cyrus’ hand.
“You’re welcome, young man.” Cyrus’ dark eyes gleamed. “Don’t worry about your broken heart. I think this St. Valentine’s Day will be special for you.”
“I hope so, Mr. Sinister.” Terrance gave a wave and headed down the street.
Cyrus went back inside and made his way to the workroom where Sylvanus moved around, humming a lively song under his breathe. Cyrus leaned on the doorframe and watched his lover work. For all the centuries they’d been together, Cyrus never got tired of looking at Sylvanus.
“So which man do you have in mind for our young businessman?” He asked, moving to capture Sylvanus in his arms.
Sylvanus wrapped his thin arms around Cyrus’ neck. “Our pretty delivery boy will work nicely, I think.”
Cyrus grunted. He trusted his lover’s instincts when it came to matchmaking. It was time for them to do a little making love.
Poetry Train…
Whispering words
Against my neck,
You hold me
In the dark.
I leave our bed
In the morning.
Facing a world
That merely tolerates me.
I talk in generalities
About the person I love
Not out of shame
Or guilt.
Simply because I don’t
Want to deal with the
Grimaces and stammers
Or the uncomfortable silences.
I live my life out
In the world
Giving people what
I think they can take
When I step
Through the doors
Of our house
I come alive.
Behind the walls
Of our home,
I love you without
Reservations.
T.A. Chase c. 2008
Poetry Train…
It doesn’t matter who I love.
It merely matters that I love at all.
I risk my heart every chance I get
To find the man I’ll want forever.
It doesn’t matter if he’s
Black or white.
It doesn’t matter if he’s
Short or tall.
It doesn’t matter if he’s
Thin or fat.
It doesn’t matter if he’s
Rich or poor.
It doesn’t matter if the one
Is male or female.
It doesn’t matter who I love.
It merely matters that I love at all.
TA Chase c. 2008
Poetry Train…
With a bellow of rage
The beast bursts forth.
Anger and power in every
Movement.
His hand grips.
Legs wrap tight.
He rides the demon.
The ground shakes.
The air fills with
Dust and heat.
But there is no sound.
Poetry in motion
As he conquers the monster.
He bends,
But doesn’t break.
He believes in his own
Strength.
The animal stops,
Head bowed.
Sides heaving.
He walks away,
Defiantly turning his back
On the beast.
He survives,
But next time
He might not be so
Lucky.
T.A. Chase c. 2008
Poetry Train…
“I love you”
Comes through
Not always
In words.
I know
The words
Are hard
To say.
It comes
Through in
Your smile
And your
Arms.
It comes
Through in
Your touch
And your
Body.
“I love you”
Comes through
Always in
Your eyes.
TA Chase c. 2008
Poetry Train…
I hear their whispers.
I feel their stares.
I know their fear.
I accept their ignorance.
I’m different.
I know that scares them.
I’m unapologetic.
I know that annoys them.
They must learn.
They must adapt.
They must accept.
They must evolve.
I’m different.
I know that scares them.
I’m unapologetic.
I know that annoys them.
I will live.
I will accept.
I will dream.
I will love.
T.A. Chase c. 2008
Poetry Train…
We touch in the dark.
We kiss in the corners.
We love in the shadows.
You ignore in the light.
You avoid in the open.
You leave in the morning.
I wish alone.
I dream alone.
I believe alone.
They hate out loud.
They hurt without thought.
They punish different.
You run from them.
You hide from me.
You live in confusion.
I wish alone.
I dream alone.
I believe alone.
We touch in the light.
We kiss in the open.
We love in the morning.
Some day.
Poetry Train…
First off…stop by Michael Breyette’s website to check out more of his awesome artwork.
Just so you know some of the pictures are not safe for work or for kids, so maybe you should check it out after you get home and if you have children, where they can’t see. 🙂
So here’s my contribution to the train today. It’s not a poem. Just one of those little scenes I write from time to time.
I stand, watching him walk away. Biting my tongue to keep from crying out. Normally, I don’t go with him when he leaves. The separation is hard on both of us, but hardly still for me because I can’t hug him or kiss him like the other spouses can their loved ones. He looks back once and I nod. Then he’s gone.
Turning, I walk away, left behind to spend a year alone again. No one will call to check and make sure I’m doing all right. No one thinks about the room mate. At least I’ll know if something happens to him since I’m listed as his emergency contact. Other than that, I’m nothing to the military he serves.
Somehow I make it home, fighting tears until I’m inside. I curl around his pillow and cry. Tomorrow, I’ll get up and be strong. I’ll survive the time apart. If he calls, I’ll be cheerful and if he doesn’t, I’ll remember how much he loves me. I’ll hold the memories of the tears he cried the night before he left tight in my heart. But today, I’ll cry and long to have him with me again.
Stop by Rhian’s blog to check out who else is on the train today.
Have a great day.
Poetry Train
Pretty boys with pretty smiles.
Shallow smirks and cocky grins.
Believing in their superiority.
Never seeing they’re commonplace.
Pretty boys with pretty bodies.
Golden skin unmarred by life.
Believing in their beauty.
Never seeing they’re ordinary.
Pretty boys with pretty minds.
Spouting poetry about love and life.
Believing in their intelligence.
Never seeing they’re average.
Pretty boys aren’t for me.
Handsome men with handsome smiles.
Understanding laughs and shy grins.
Believing they’re commonplace.
Never seeing their superiority.
Handsome men with handsome bodies.
Golden skin marred by life
Believing they’re ordinary.
Never seeing their beauty.
Handsome men with handsome minds.
Talking about experience and dreams.
Believing they’re average.
Never seeing their intelligence.
Handsome men are for me.
T.A. Chase c. 2008
