When your words form silence And your presence is absent The volume of your intentions is deafening Then your words form hope And your heart takes a moment The corner to turn is approaching
Free-written poetry, survival through moments of depression and the hope of escape as life resumes.
Pain just seemed to happen to her she felt nothing. It was part of the process, part of the cycle,
Just something to endure.
Where words failed and help too distant.
When the fear overwhelms and invades all senses,
Your voice; a symphony You stole a chord When you disappeared There’s a gap in music Syncopated heartbreak Underscoring you Rhythm like rain Melody like moonlight Holding onto hope Love & laughter so light But tears in tornadoes Our symphony Our fight
The syllables cascade through my senses, As my tongue shapes the semantics of words, Words I’ll never say, Words; ineffective Insufficient & verbose Falling into deafness Faded & weak Then a jolt; Sound returns Overwhelmingly Free again
A soliloquy written for puck; her love for oberon. Excerpt From an original play: 'Cubed'
A soliloquy showing Puck's love for Oberon. From an original play: 'Cubed'
Our love is as a melody; once magical – now mundane.
If he could simply take his time to listen, truly listen to the words with his heart he should find what he fell for, what enchanted him about our song.
He loves me not, but my heart holds me to his will at least a while longer. I cannot work my charms upon him, he is immune to such trickery, and I could not live with myself, nor not with him neither if he were not to be authentic in his love.
Oberon explains his influence over 3 catalytic characters from some of Shakespeare's plays. An excerpt from an original play: 'Cubed'
Prologue; Oberon's lament
Look thou there, what dost thou see?
A Man, a Monster, a Wizard? Or a Whisp?
But in the blink of an eye, it could all be missed.
1…2…3. 1 – 2 – 3!
I beg of you all a spell, a moment in time;
And I’ll break your schemic rhythm of rhyme.
Wilt thou not listen and but observe a short while.
Ask I not for forgiveness, ‘tis indeed not my trial.
Nor not to forget, not a smile, not a tear,
Nor to learn more of me than you see here.
I mean only to take you on a journey. Wilt thou tarry?
Even in rags, ‘tis some fortune I carry.
Lend me your ears and we will transcend time,
Now to my story, I am done with this rhyme.
I was once a king – A King, a lover and husband and a good man.
Yet – you seem to trust me not – No matter. All will transpire with time.
I pray you, embrace my tale if only with a lighthearted eye.