The Muse

(An International Journal of Poetry)

Volume-1                                          June-2011                                                        Number-1

 

 

From The Heart
                   by April Avalon


I'm here in the corner, devoured by cold,
My little ribbed shell hides a desperate sigh,
It holds an enigma for you to unfold
Until I'm asleep to your breath's lullaby.
 
My soul is rushing beyond the extremes,
Revealing the vibe that is hard to appease,
But once you discover the door to my dreams,
My consciousness lives through a moment of peace.
 
Whenever my lips start exploring your skin,
They bleed unexplainable bitter remorse -
My poison leaves stains, and it feels from within,
But lips ever sealed do appear much worse.
          ...................

 

Madness So Sweet

                         by April Avalon

Pearls of fantasies shine in the waters of hope
That February turned tears to.
We will certainly free weakened hands from the ropes
If wonder is all that we do.

 

Let us build a small ship as a shelter-to-be
And paint it in colors of spring.
It is madness so sweet to spend life on the sea;
I will turn to a siren and sing.

 

In the song of my heart that will beat twice as fast,
Your own inner voice will reveal.
Reminiscence I'll crave is for ages to last,
I'll gift you a moment to steal.

 

         .........................................

 

In Lines

              by April Avalon

Invisible scars.
The blades of your hands.
Repeating old lines of my own.
The well-hidden sense.
The hopeless romance.
The eyes that could gift me the dawn.

 

The days go by.
Three months till July.
Love, listen, I'm honestly striving
To perpetuate
My fortunate fate,
Still learning the art of surviving.

 

But I am too weak,
Frail fingers do seek
A chance to entwine for a moment
With yours, then lose hold
And feel this strange cold,
Indulge in a beautiful torment.

 

The same tragic theme.
I've reached the extreme.
It seems I'll be waiting for ages
Of riddles and signs,
Of love fixed in lines,
Of counting papers and pages.

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                                                                                                                               Life

               by April Avalon

 The words I hardly figure out
And all our mornings are about -
A cigarette, tea flavored menthol,
The train, the underground noise...
And then - in turn: your eyes, your voice...

 

A warm embrace, so quick yet tender,
So evanescent, yet desired,
The lurking verses, eve-inspired -
A perfect mix, and I'll surrender.
You'll leave around half past five...
That's it. And, well, it is my life.

 

..............................