“Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves,
We have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!” ― Humbert Wolfe
“I can smell autumn dancing in the breeze. The sweet chill of pumpkin, and crisp sunburnt leaves.” — Ann Drake 🍂💧🥾
(full version)
Reality to me is the dusk.
Prevalence in the shadows.
It is cloaking,
Grasping,
Discerning
In a world of darkness.
It is torment.
It is restraint.
The disturbing notion
That one must taste a normal
Subsistence,
An existence so mundane and
Unremarkable.
Part of me scorns it—
The contrived,
The unnatural kismet—
And so loves being
Unbounded.
I can pretend—
I know you know what it is
To stand the test of time
As a creature sunken
In the darkness of the world,
Trying to understand
What is going on,
What it is we need,
Why we do this,
And what it is they expect us to do.
But, the beauty of the peaceful lull
Amid the trees just before sunrise
Lies in contrast with the hazy tumult
Of my self-inflicted tomb.
I have lived, and I have died.
Life, as I knew it, is over.
Still, I am happier than I have ever been.
I know love.
I know peace.
I am in awe of every vision.
I bask in the passion of every caress.
Every bit of air I breathe is a godsend.
I could listen to the stillness of the ocean
Before daybreak,
To the waves amid a blue-violet sky.
I could dance with flair to the music
With a glow that illuminates me.
I have a power that lures,
Clutches,
And holds.
Temptation is like the ache for sustenance.
Seduction is smooth,
Effortless.
One learns to employ everything,
To safeguard,
To control,
And to conquer.
I feel as if I am asking you for your heart,
Your soul,
Your breath,
Your life.
What I long to say,
I hesitate to say it.
There is the danger,
The allure
As my hand reaches out to touch your face.
Can I hold you
And resist all temptation?
Can I ever set you free?
It is the old, “I have to do this.
I don’t want to do this.”
Yet I must send you away.
To protect you is to leave you when I must,
To silence you when you probe,
To evade,
To elude.
I can sense your presence,
Always,
Before I see you.
And, I kiss the earth you swagger upon!
We can only be hurt if I love you.
It’s all been said before,
No doubt.
I might have said it all sooner,
Had I not been savoring every moment
Of getting to know you.
Wishing that carefree innocence never would
cease.
There is no one else I’d rather be—
Unless it was to love you.
You are all that I crave.
♡
Author D.K. Sanz a/k/a Kyrian Lyndon
Despite mournful envy and
Dejected wrath,
We bask under blue skies,
Bewitching stars,
And mystical moons,
Loving rumbles of thunder,
Glistening raindrops,
And a hazy peaceful sunrise.
In the face of
Sorrowful greed,
We delight in magnificent mountains,
Bountiful oceans,
Turquoise lagoons,
Beautiful blossoms,
And the green, green grass
Of springtime.
Through raging anger,
Aching sadness,
We treasure radiant sunsets,
Seek marble courtyards,
Ancient architecture,
And splendid arched bridges.
We sing the praises of
Breathtaking falls.
Even crushed
And bewildered,
We are captivated by
Exquisite winged creatures,
Tropical forests,
And the critters we nurture.
We embrace the power in our divinity
And the superb magic of everything.
With every threat to the world
We belong to
And embrace,
We revel in books and dreams.
We’re mesmerized by
Otherworldly visions
And plentiful hues.
We cherish
The light in ever-curious
Truth seekers,
And are ever grateful
For smiles,
Rapturous affection,
Laughter,
And love.
by Kyrian Lyndon
When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy. – Rumi
Find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain. – Joseph Campbell
seagull photo by geralt / 24478 images at Pixabay
woman on beach photo by Tomas Jasovsky on Unsplash
She hated flowers, and I wondered why
That was;
When diamonds less radiant
Diminished her gloom,
And she delighted in the fragrance of her favorite perfume.
She hated that they withered and faded,
I thought;
That their petals broke loose,
And they barely hung on.
She hated that they were thrown away,
With every trace of them gone.
They were delicate and fragile like her,
I’d say;
The kind of thing
She felt so undeserving of.
It’s such taxing work for the weary,
Simply to nurture and love.
She clung to her own greenness and vigor,
I thought.
Exquisite as they were,
They brought too much sorrow;
She detested caring for those that,
Would not need her tomorrow.
She was too oppressed to provide refuge,
I found.
I heard heartbreaking stories,
Where she had it rough.
She did the best she could, I know,
But it was just never enough.
She is every bit like the flowers,
You know,
Warms your vulnerable heart,
With kindness and grace;
Brings happy tears to your eyes,
And the most joyful smile to your face!
She regales like a queen, and she stuns,
I say;
And I love her,
As I do those flowers she hates!
Some have penetrable walls, you know;
She has padlocked iron gates
Author: Kyrian Lyndon
Top feature image by Hong Zhang from Pixabay
Black rose image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay
Purple rose image by GLady from Pixabay
Orange flowers image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay
My body was a useless entity.
In your presence, it betrayed me.
Like dangerous waters beckoning
In their mystifying beauty.
Their tantalizing fluidity caressed my body
As I resisted taking the plunge.
My body betrayed me,
Ignored me like a preoccupied stranger
With a will of its own.
And, I cruelly learned,
I could control what happened
Only if you were merciful.
But, watching you,
Listening to you,
Was not merciful.
It was a torturous joy.
Feature image above by Stefan Keller from Pixabay
“Unmerciful” is from Awake with the Songbirds Available on Amazon.com
Did you know you could die?
Did you want to die, or simply not care?
All that bravado,
A hellion in rebellion,
But you knew things.
And, everything you said was true.
We smoked in the factory corridor,
Played ball in the streets.
Through summer school and Nok Hockey,
You were everything.
Just like those caramel nut sundaes at Klees
And the old rooster we cried for.
You taught me to be tough
And gave the best advice.
Looking after me
When it wasn’t your job.
You needed your space,
Your own place.
You didn’t need a pesty shadow
Like me.
I didn’t understand.
We all loved you.
At least, I thought I loved you—
But I couldn’t see you then.
Ghosts can be so many things.
Whatever haunts you.
And, sometimes, what brings you
A silent joy and blessed peace,
You can’t share it with anyone
But the one who shares it with you.
I see you now.
And, so, I released you
When you needed to go.
Like a balloon to the sky.
Or a butterfly,
Or one of those Wish-niks
You and I loved to cling to.
I do love you now,
And I’ll keep sending love to
Wherever you are.
The memories—
I’ll cherish them forever.
And, I hope you forgive me,
As I do you.
Be happy!
Keep shining!
You always did amaze me.
Letting Go from Awake with the Songbirds by Kyrian Lyndon
Photo of sisters in hammock by Janko Ferlič at Unsplash
Photo of rebel woman by Tibi_Varzaru from Pixabay
Photo of caramel nut sundae by chotda on Flicker
Photo of ghost girl by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay
Photo of red balloon in window by Alfons Schüler from Pixabay
Photo of dandelions by InspiredImages from Pixabay
What are we going to do about the fact that I’m dying?”
She asked him.
“There’s a lot we haven’t resolved.
There’s so much we can’t say to each other,
Including goodbye.
I don’t think I’ve done enough for you,
Or that I ever deserved you.
“I keep trying to let things go,
Let it be,
Have faith,
Have trust,
And I think it works, most of the time.
Wisdom is crystallized pain,
And my greatest pain has been your sadness.
I worry so much about you.
“Everything shifted
When you entered my world.
You led me to the right path,
Revealed my inner shadows.
You made me a better human.
And, I love you.
And, I just want you to be okay.
More than anything, I want you to be happy.
But, you’re not, and I can’t leave you like that.
You deserve to find your joy.
“Walking away from hard-hearted people is easy
For me,
But you,
Despite your impenetrable shell,
Are the kindest person I have ever known.
I could never walk away.
I’d miss you more than
I’ve ever missed anything in my life.
“Oh, and what are we going to do about the fact that you’re dying?”
She asked him next.
“I think you’re afraid.
A lost soul who can’t find the path that leads home.
I see innocence,
Confusion,
And anger,
Your eyes don’t light up.
I see the beauty you don’t see,
In yourself,
Or in the world around you.
“Believe me; I get it.
The world makes you angry,
Robs you of the will to fight.
What you say concerns me, though.
I want to talk to you about it,
But when I do, you shut me down.
You can’t forgive those people,
And you’re right about them:
They don’t deserve any more of your energy.
It baffles me that they were so unkind,
To someone so precious.
And, because of them,
You haven’t been kind to yourself.
You don’t love who you are,
But I love you.
“Thank you for continuing to live when
You wanted to die.
Maybe I had no right to insist
Life’s worth fighting for.
It’s your existence,
Your pain.
I can’t suffer it for you.
And, I’d never say you were selfish,
No matter what you chose.
Unbearable is just that.
But, in every blessed way, you transformed me.
You showed me unconditional love.
“Of course, I know, too, how hard you fought to survive.
I’m honored that you chose to stay with me.
And, though you’d never admit it,
You’ve come such a long way.
It still hurts, I know,
But you’re never alone,
And never will be.
“Promise me this, though.
Begin, once again, to cherish
The whisper of the wind,
The beauty of a clear day,
And the divinity in all of nature.
Hold hands with someone,
Sigh at the faraway places,
Laugh at yourself,
Find humor wherever you can,
And let somebody hug you.
Embrace your vulnerability,
Savor your progress,
Celebrate your triumphs, and
Learn from your mistakes,
Always healing.
“Promise me, too,
You’ll take a chance on love
Again and again.
Reach out, my dear one.
Find it in your heart to forgive.
And, finally,
Know this.
You’ll be back.
I’ll be back.
We’ll cross paths again.
We are all dying, my friend, so, please
Begin to live.”
“My Friend” from Awake with the Songbirds by Kyrian Lyndon
Would you like to review Awake with the Songbirds? Let me know! Free review copies are available in PDF, Word, and Kindle formats.
For the Kindle version, you must have a Kindle device. If you don’t have one, you can download it for free at this link. Once you are on that page, click on Read with our Free App. The link is above the book description. You can also install the app on your phone.
The PDF version requires Acrobat Adobe DC.
If you’d like to leave a review, you can do so here and/or here. Reviews are very much appreciated, no matter how brief.
Thank you! Hope you enjoyed the poem!
My new book, “Awake With The Songbirds,” which includes the above poem and many more, will be available by the end of next week. I’m so excited!
Please let me know if you are interested in obtaining an advanced review copy or if you’d like me to notify you about any upcoming giveaways. There will be a few chances to win a copy in the forthcoming months!
This collection consists primarily of poems written during the COVID-19 pandemic, a time of loneliness and rumination.
Lyndon’s poetry stems from intense emotions that swing from one end of the pendulum to the other as she captures the agony of love and loss, along with innocent joy and lighthearted fun.
Each poem is an earnest response to life, love, and everything in between.
Here is one poem in the collection.
SAME OLD NEIGHBORHOOD
The neighborhood hasn’t changed,
But the draperies on the windows have been swept aside.
We see you.
Telling someone to go back to where they came from,
To the place where they had no voice
And no choice.
That place where they were beaten,
Neglected and shamed,
Where they never felt safe,
Never had a chance.
Oh, they’d love to go home,
But, home isn’t home anymore.
The neighborhood hasn’t changed,
But, the fanfaronade has consequences.
We hear you.
It’s not just words.
It’s not simply freedom.
It’s a weapon to harm and destroy.
To punish those who aren’t the same.
People just like you commit horrific crimes,
But you don’t identify them
Only with crimes because they mirror you.
People just like you hurt you and fight you and hate you
But, you don’t see them all as threatening because they are you.
The neighborhood hasn’t changed,
But, many more of us want to live here only in peace.
You can make that happen.
So many beautiful people I’ve known in my life
Were those people you rejected,
And they were full of warmth and kindness and wisdom.
You don’t see them because they’re not the same.
The neighborhood hasn’t changed,
And neither has any divine love for all who live here.
Like you, we are sacred.
All is sacred every moment of every day.
WHAT READERS SAY
“She has the ability to convey to the reader some of the most complex thoughts into words that truly reach our hearts.”— Love Books
“Her lyrical voice speaks with careful observation and passion. In the narrative mode, she is masterful in reading life around her. Kyrian possesses the sensitivity, insight, and soul of the true poet. Her writing provides a primer on how to compose meaningful poetry.”—Lou Jones
***
Please let me know if you are interested in obtaining an advanced review copy or if you’d like me to notify you about any upcoming giveaways. There will be a few chances to win a copy in the forthcoming months!
Happy Reading!
Dying embers set alight—
What had those vile creatures unleashed in me?
What beast had they awakened?
I think I vowed to kill the beast
With a single flame’s fury and resilience,
Bury it so deep in the abyss
That it would never again rear its ugly head.
Part of me did make this promise.
The other part embraced
An unfolding of life’s inextinguishable flames
And the mind’s unspoken bondage.
Because the crushing of one’s will
Didn’t cease with the conquest.
Poison oozed from the wound
Like some fairy tale curse
That corrupted your spirit,
Making it so vile,
You couldn’t know or understand your desires.
Kyrian Lyndon – Deadly Veils Book One: Shattering Truths
Speak to me of what you dream
While the world, in a hush,
Lays itself to rest in the darkness.
There is change,
There is gray,
There is truth
In the haven of a colorful world
Free of elitism and unbending visions,
Far from the inflexible architects of doom.
We have room!
No separation,
Degradation—
We are one.
No superiority,
Inferiority—
Two sides of the same coin.
No labels,
No fables—
Compassion for all
Or we fall.
From ‘A Dark Rose Blooms’ by Kyrian Lyndon
Feature image at the top by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
Note – The photo above the poem is the back cover of my poetry book, Remnants of Severed Chains, designed by KH Koehler of KH Koehler Designs.
The sun rises with Foreboding crow caws, While the day brings Sirens of uncertainty. Allergies persist. Well, for the lilac pansies, The snapdragons, And the daffodils… Oh, and the tulips in all colors, Beautiful and bold.
We see the sun From behind the glass. We hear the rain. Upstairs, there is music. He’s singing— Playing guitar. Below we talk like survivors Of dystopian madness Taking shelter in a cave. “Are you okay?” “Yes.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. Are you?” “Yes.”
The days are longer. Open windows let in the breeze. Outside, the trees are tall and proud. With all their flowers, Cherries, And leaves. Yet we— We are powerless, Our illusion of safety Violated once more. Oh, but the birds chirp in a frenzy! Come play. The earth is alive! We need to laugh and To cry. Everything is tragic And beautiful.
But some have no one to talk to, Little, if anything, to eat, No way to get well, And nowhere to hide. Others rise to an occasion They never could have fathomed, Working toward their lifelong dream With infinite empathy. Does it wreak desolation? We don’t even know the extent Of how harsh life can be. People die for greed. Dreaded knock on the door now. No one should come here— Maybe not for a while. Uneasy eyes Behind masked faces. Down the stairwells then, One flight at a time, I go beyond the door, Where the world is. Experience it once more, For a short time. The sun is bright Across a vivid blue sky. There’s the scent of fresh-cut grass And the sweet caress of the wind. It’s like a summer day With pillowy clouds And butterflies. The world’s magnificent beauty.
Then it’s back to the safe place. Do you have one of those? A safe place to be? I hope you do. Because the stars are still there at night, Like the glorious moon. I watch them as I hope Things get better. Like they always did before, At least, for a little while.
“How Are You Feeling These Days” poem by Kyrian Lyndon
Photo credits (from top to bottom):
Crow – Alexas Pansies – Shirley Snapdragons – Metsikgarden Tulips – Annca Cave – Stocksnap Cherry blossom trees – Dewdrop157 Dogwood Trees – Brinnington Bird in Tree – bardia Hashemirad on Unsplash Landscape – Larisa-k Clouds – Johnsongoh Fantasy Stargazing – Larissa-k
You made me laugh,
And I forgot all the tears.
You helped me up,
And I forgot the times
You let me down.
You were hatred,
Just as surely as
You were love.
You were everything right
And everything wrong—
Humility and
Defiance,
Cruelty
And kindness,
Approval and
Contempt.
You were everything
And nothing.
I had to let you go,
And it freed me.
Still, I’m sad,
For I know
Who you might have been.
I know you so well…
But you do not know me. – Kyrian Lyndon
from Remnants of Severed Chains
Book cover design by Jah Kaine via jerboa Design Studios.com
Feature header photo by ara ghafoory @araghafoory
Poem copyright © Kyrian Lyndon 2015
SHADOWS OF MY SOUL
Reality to me is the dusk,
Prevalence in the shadows.
It is cloaking,
Grasping,
Discerning
In a world of darkness.
It is torment.
It is restraint.
The beauty of the peaceful lull amid the
Trees just before sunrise
Lies in contrast with the hazy tumult of my
Self-inflicted tomb.
I am in awe of every vision.
I bask in the passion of every caress.
Every bit of air I breathe is a godsend.
I could listen with the stillness of the ocean
Before daybreak
To the waves amid a blue-violet sky.
I could dance with flair and gaiety to the music
With a glow that illuminates me.
There is no one else I’d rather be—
Unless it were to love you.
You are all that I crave.
© Copyright March 1, 2005 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved.
Through forests of emerald-green bliss,
She pranced,
Embracing the colors of endless play—
The rainbows of summer.
She was a child of the earth.
Her tiny voice sang,
And she danced!
No danger lurked in her twinkling eyes.
Everything in her fearless laughter
Was colored with mirth.
She built castles on the shore
By a peaceful and provident sea
That was never foreboding.
She skipped beneath the golden clouds
Like the world belonged to her,
As if there were no cares
And all who loved her
Would keep her safe.
“Do not lose her,” I said.
“Do not lose that child.
She needs you so desperately.”
And then she had this grave fear of the sea,
This somber foreboding.
It seemed so vast and so deep
From the shore,
A leviathan-green, hellish monstrosity
Full of strange creatures that devoured things.
It was all that lay between her
And some faraway place
On the other side of the globe.
Somehow, it was not so frightening now.
Neither was the past,
The present,
Or all the future obscurities—
Not even those people she once had cherished.
The peace of the waters subdued her now,
As she listened to the thrash of the waves.
She was just playing with a stick in the sand.
There was a noted ambiguity
Whenever she spoke of this place.
Certain moments when she embraced the glorious light
And gazed intently into the darkness.
There were moments, too,
When she felt it creep and crawl around her,
When she ached and trembled,
Longing to free herself from its grip.
While seething within,
She wore the mask of kindness,
Harmless and alluring,
With resentment like hemlock,
Beautiful yet wilting,
Glowing yet tarnished,
Beckoning,
Flourishing,
Standing tall,
And unyielding…
Toxic to all
In her flowering beauty.
The sun was setting,
Salmon clouds under a sky of dodger blue,
Flocks of geese
On a sprawling lawn.
A waxing gibbous moon
Beckoned
Like she needed a guide,
A divine light.
“Come forth,” it said.
“Come home.”
And some of the fear waned
As she went forth,
But nothing really changed.
She stood alone on the edge,
In darkness,
A faint silhouette
Gazing at the night sky.
Rain fell,
A sprinkler to the trees
Thrashing in the wind.
She would flee,
Abandoning places,
Suddenly unrecognizable faces.
The glowing sun of Helios
Was a beacon
For eternal bliss,
Yet deceiving.
The caves beckoned.
Every corner,
Every crevice,
Held its own mystery,
Its truth.
Still the perilous journey
Was madness—
Pretty colors and then
Darkness.
It seemed to have no end.
She heard a child crying,
A child from long ago,
A prisoner of her soul.
Stone walls around her,
Hissing sounds,
Deep, treacherous waters—
Her mind was a fractured maze.
No one could see.
No one could hear.
No safe place to run,
She had to find the way
Out…
Home…
Every stone that healed
Brought her closer to
The truth,
The light.
The climb was steep,
But she held on,
Clawing her way
In blindness,
Accepting,
Facing,
Grieving.
Raindrops glistened on the rocks.
Flower petals littered
The wet grass.
She saw vibrant orchids
In the fading light of the moon,
And, alas,
Tranquil waters glistened
Aqua blue.
Like the ancient alchemical goddess,
She was crowned—
A newborn only beginning
To awaken,
Beginning to see,
Her soul bursting
With bliss.
The beauty within
Became the beauty
Eyes could see,
Not perfection—
Courage, perhaps…
Determination,
Defiance,
And love.
She was free.
No jewel could sparkle with
More radiance,
And the years could not tarnish its shine.
From Remnants of Severed Chains 
Copyright October 17, 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com.
“Adversity is the first path to truth.” Lord Byron
Mangled Wings
Weary of all the conjecture, the slants,
Belly full of trite and typical rants.
It’s enough for the troubled, the broken,
Who have to amend it with so little spoken.
Die trying while you wait for the bomb;
Pray for the respite of happy and calm.
Fly out in euphoric bliss, dance of death,
On days it is torture to merely draw breath.
Eyes nearly close, tresses whirl in the breeze;
Touch my face, then graze my lips and appease.
We must embrace these things we abhor.
Rise up, rise up—
Mangled wings need to soar.
From ‘A Dark Rose Blooms’
A poetry book by Kyrian Lyndon
*****
Mangled Wings © Copyright 2006 kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved.
D.K. Sanz 