Murmers of the Soul

"Disdainful,"

Beat her Heart

Under the Cold Silence that was 

Night.

"Secretive,"

Whispered her ear

In the Harshness of Night's

Cold Air.

"Deceitful!"

Howled her Mind

Through the Moon's Haunted Light.

"Resentful,"

Clicked her Tongue

As it carried towards the

Easter Sun.

-Irene Martens

The Face Beneath The Cracks

Written on a Bridge

Below the cracks beneath me,

I see right through.

And in Repeating Patterns,

I see me, looking back at you.

"Hello!" I wave goodbye.

You wave goodbye, too.

And as I scratch my foot,

You show me your shoe.

"You've stomped my face!"

I shout.

You shout that out, too.

So I mimic you, 

Or whoever copied who,

And we both walk away,

Our shoes stuck like glue.

And looking through the cracks again?

Well, I never do.

-Madelaine Irene

The Call of the River & My Compass

The Call of the River

Here stands a bridge

Long, not tall.

Here stands a bridge,

I wonder why at all?

Here stands a bridge,

To stop me from a fall.

And yet here, with this bridge,

I cannot answer the River's Call.

My Compass

I walk under Shadow,

Above me a Grove of Green.

I walk over Sunlight,

Casting Patterns upon the Spotted Scene.

I walk towards Color;

Places I have never been.

I walk away from Glories,

That have yet to lose their sheen.

-Madelaine Irene

The Observer

Floweth The Water

So Sweet,

Amidst The Grassy Banks.

Tumbles The Water

So Daint,

Over The Glistening Stones.

The Bubbling Brook 

Chippers, So lively,

With Ducks and Turtles alike.

The Ripples Echo To-wards

The Crane's Dipped Beak,

Wrapping it's ringlets around

Embodied Forms Stationed Still.

Glimmers Underneath,

Small and Tad in size,

Weight Upon Their Backs

The Pool of Seven Tides.

Perched upon The Grassy Shore

A Girl with Streaming Hair Galore,

Observes the path of Righteous Lore,

And Writes, with Raptness,

The Words of Sounds that she doth Adore.

-Madelaine Irene

Two Short Verses

Green bursts through the hillside,

Like a clap of thunder

After the lightning strikes.

Blue glows in the ocean high,

With white streaks of day.

Sun streams through

The green on the hillside,

Dancing as though around a campfire.

 -Madelaine Irene

Two Twin Trees

Alongside Eachother.

Their Boughs Extend

Close To The Touch

But Not Close Enough

The Twig of a Twig

The Prick of A Leaf

The Tiniest Touch Stands

Between The Twin Trees

Together They'll Stand,

Two Twin Trees

Never To Touch

The other Untouched

Tree's Hand.

-Madelaine Irene