The Death of Winter

The breeze lays kisses on my face
leaving lips breathless
with want
of its earthy
Sweet with song
Swelling with dewy tears and
bone dust.

I shall not want
anymore than this.
the ground bleeds brown
like blood
white antithesis


Hidden Disciple

Hidden Disciple – ©2013 ~blazing-sunset

You will never know, with your kind spirit
How you have pervaded me
How the mere thought
the utterance of your name
a spurt of memory
reminds me of a time that I will not forget

Perhaps we set out in our lives
hoping that someone will hear us
and be our hidden disciples
Those we have changed for good
do not pass us by so quickly

But the conversation, the moments
of intellectual ecstasy.
That only the mind, free of conventions
but open, strong in passion and might
should transcend its own very subject

How I long for it again
The impact was meteror
That left in me a canyon
wide and deep
teeming with inspiration
But you will never know
nor will I mean as much to you
as you did to me.

Coping With Tiredness

  • Coping with Tiredness by Rachel Stark ~blazing-sunset, Feb 21, 2012, 1:34:18 PM
The tiredness that wraps its arms
’round like a lover
swathes its veil over my eyes
a temptation, lovely whisper
and the realization that reality is not worth the resistance
That tiredness which injects into your spirit its poison
watches you teeter on your plinth
Composure broken.If I had met you sooner
I could have loved you longer
Now I am much too exhausted
for that sort of thing
To peer into a mirror
but not out of it
A slow burn chemical
A feast of men

The Place We Called Home

The Place We Called Home  by Rachel Stark, ©2013 ~blazing-sunset

Oh, the love these walls could hold.
I felt the memories as an artery, a single heartbeat.
They wrap me in gentle cords and whisper
“This is your home”
I tried to leave my mark. To say that we
Lived and loved here.
My eyes shut and I am still in mourning.
I am a child again. To miss something is a
sadness that can never be healed.

To walk in the grass to the places only I know.
Places that only existed in my heart. It only exists now
in my thoughts, still tormentingly , vividly alive, because
I have not the will to move on.
I want not of change, but the peace of permanence
And the lasting breaths of something that was alive
in me once.
That reciprocated the life I put into it.

The sum of my being lived and dies in those days I will see nevermore.
Oh how weak! The strong heart breaks,
and the fragments are the glyphs of my story.
I hope you weep at the beauty you find there.
I hope you do not mock the pain.
I hope you gather the pieces to your breast
and pray for that which will never be whole again.

Where Nothing Ever Ends

Where Nothing Ever Ends

©2012-2013 ~blazing-sunset

by Rachel Stark

This room is so cold in the fall
I really miss home for the first time in my life
Because there I feel young again
And I’m Madre’s babygirl.
Who steals her makeup and clothes
So that one day I might be as beautiful
As she is.

No matter how hard I held on
Vice-like till skin turns blue
With clammy palms, did it slip
Like air between my fingers.
Memories never existed
Because they never ended.

At my grandma’s house, we always had Thanksgiving.
Every year, that is my favorite. It wasn’t a day, or a time, or a moment. It was a compilation of way someone smells when you hug them after a long day, and the excitement of the kitchen, and the fact that I created both magic and love at once.
I was always so grateful for the simplest things like that.

I always feel like I am never ready
To feel everything in a different way
To have to count down the years and the hours
Knowing that nothing lasts as long as it should
When you grow older, your courage is all over the place
At my desk, I tap on the picture frame glass and reach for them to take me in
Where nothing ever ends.

A Fire Too Great

A Fire Too Great

©2012-2013 ~blazing-sunset

by Rachel Stark

A fire  that is too great
for this world, as boundless
as the infinite sea of black and white
Engulfing in it, rejoicing in it

What it would be like to explode?
To ignite, violently but beautifully
into oblivion, and leave an imprint
to shed this soul, and look down into a chasm deep.

Nothing to save, nothing sacred.
This is not a real life. It’s a madness,
insatiable but trembling.

And ultimately so much bigger than myself.

But all I hear is the stilled silence of a heart that’s grown listless of its caller.