Fuscus

Something similar to the "Visualization" piece.

Sometimes soft as conditioned fur
The melting in one's eyes,
Sometimes smooth and dry to the touch
As polished mahoganies.
Yet elsewhere he is rough;
The ancient bark of the banyan soul.
And always kind, through thick and thin,
Talisman against the foul.

Traverse the spectrum, bitter through sweet
And lo, there you'll find him smile
Whether it's dark or milk you like
He flows deeper than the Nile.
The coffee bean of vitality,
T'was his creation no doubt.
And so he'd like to remind you with
Each pouring of the spout.

The skin of the East, that rustic feast
Of cultural extravaganza,
I meet him now and then in Grandma's
Wicked chicken-do-pyaza!
Wooden doors and wooden floors
The sifting sand between your toes,
Wherever you may find his touch, you'll see
He's vanquished all your woes.

The earth in which we plant the grain
Of life: green, fresh and young,
Though deep within his power thrives
His presence: a humble hum.
Willingly did he pass, his rightful title:
“The almighty source of life”,
To his younger brother Albus
Sans struggle or strife.

Poetic Visions

Whispers like paper thin
Skeletal reminiscences of pear-shaped leaves,
Green woven in union with White,
Like two threads in perfect harmony
Through the fabric of eternity.

They float calmly, peacefully downward
To where, nought knows but them.
Two profound spirits, wise,
From the gain of acceptance's emblem.

Pain

A poem inspired by a severe, persistent headache and a desire to write something different. Enjoy. :D

Pain
Is
Beautiful to some.
Revered by some,
And dispelled by some.

But the poor soul's done nothing
To none,
So why,
Is she
The loner?

For even when embraced,
She's the alien,
To be feared.
Though she causes grief,
She only helps, you see?
Why
Don't
They see?

She jabs from inside,
Thrusts forth, from outside,
Engulfs you
In
Her power.
Yet she knows when to see
Defeat,
For she only tries to make you stronger.
I repeat,
She only wants to make you stronger.

But such is her destiny,
She is despised by all,
Feared,
Rejected by
All.
For that is the secret of her power,
You see:

In their hatred and fear,
Their lives they strive to clear,
of her uninvited residence.
And once they succeed,
They have strength indeed,
Thus her purpose, achieved.
She has the power of defeat, you see,

It seems a thankless job to me.

Visualization.

The course of electricity that rushes, burning, yet cool; startling yet mild and comforting...

As the ancient beckons at you over the semi-lunar glasses.

You are translocated to an ocean, cool and caressing: like your bed under you on a cool morning, only softer. The sensation embraces, making way as you slice your way through, yet providing that resistance that inspires to move on.

On a warm, beachy day.

The ever soothing virtue of the lapis-lazuli.

Soothing, yet as depressants in some.

The dark night that cradles the moon and dons the stars like jewels nestling in her royal-ascending velvet... regal, yet possessing that lightness and swiftness of movement that the royal does not.

They who find themselves able to lure to sleep softer than the softest lullaby, and yet reveal their presence in the icy cold splash that wakes as no other to startling reality, all while stifling a laugh behind their liquid, supple fingers.

Warm she can be as well as cool, burning brightest in those stars. The calmest though never the weakest of the elements. In her rage and destruction, she still possesses that serenity.

She, who represents the house of wit and intelligence in a school of magic.

The majestic neck of the peacock, the emanating scales of Saphira, as in the Firesword of the rider. The last female of a fading race, battling to uphold the immense majesty in serene ferocity.

As the skin of the preserver of peace, an eternal smile on his lips. The shade of the voice of the protector who consumed the poison to save his universe from its wrath.

Of one, liquid syllable.