Poetry of Andromeda

The poems in this book were all written and submitted by members of the House... If thee wish to submit a poem go to:
Poetry of Friends of Andromeda
Or to the Featured Poets Page

More to come soon...

NOTE: The poetry works of the Lady Silvereyes Andromeda that were once displayed here have all been removed due to copyright issues.
Silvereyes, The Dark Poetress, is a professional writer. Due to the amount of works she is currently selling, placing her poetry on these pages would violate some of her contracts.
If anyone has personal interest in reading her poems, they can contact her personally via email to obtain some samples of her writing.

All Poems On This Page Are The Exclusive Copyright © Of The Authors
All Rights Reserved
Any Unauthorized Copying and/or Use Of Said Poems Without Their Permission Is Illegal
I haven't fed the lawyers in months... Feel Lucky...?

Return to the Room of the Dark Poetress

Return To Main Hallway

I didn't know what beauty was until I saw you...

I didn't know what passion felt until I kissed you...

I didn't know what desire made in me until I had you in my arms...

I didn't know what happiness was until you gave me a smile...

I didn't know what to be a Dad meant until you gave me a daughter...

I didn't know what love was until I made you mine... All mine...

I didn't know then...

Now I know
because of you...

Copyright © Lord Ahriman Andromeda
All Rights Reserved

Yes I am lost...
But what a beautiful fate mine is...
To be trapped inside her eyes...
I am lost inside her...
I long time ago she warned me...
"Don't stare too long,
Lest thy soul get lost in them"
"I don't have a soul,
Don't fear from me."
I said...
So I stared....
Oh I stared....
If I had a soul...
It would be in there...
Whatever was inside me,
Is now hers,
It has always been;
And will always be...

Copyright © Lord Ahriman Andromeda
All Rights Reserved

What if I danced with both feet asleep
Why does the urge come when they are on fire
Pins so pointed
Needles so neat
Its any wonder I still stand on my feet

What if I dreamt when all hope was lost
Why do I desire when my heart is put out
Chill so cold
Queen so quiet
Its any wonder I hurt what I'm happy the most

What if I vanished and gave word that I would
Why do I return and not run when I should
Chains on my choices
Fleeing my freedom
Its any wonder that I behave in this way

But I could...

Always be the one smiling, holding, helping
Here's another cup and here's another blade
Here's my umbrella for dryness and shade

But wait...

Here I am standing, the bench is now filled
To save your self I'll distract
I get killed...

Now stop.

"Please stop driving the car in fast circles."
The words are there but my tongue only sleeps
Can you not notice the tears on my cheek?
But my eyes are dry and you pick up your speed

What if I yelled when my throat was sore
Why do I know better and take the red medicine
Plastic so perfect
Drinking the drunk
Giving you wings and being the wind...

Watching you fly, to get rich, I stay poor

What if I'm ungratful that you are obsessed
Why should I smile what I cannot breath
I'll take my leave!
I start to walk
Then you get lost and I pass you my sleeve

What if I took a new name but became more myself
Why is it so hard for you to pronounce
"I" is a letter you say a lot
"Me" is a note I sing to myself
Remember its not me trying to impress everyone else

So what if I choose to love and be free
Why not contradict a cinic's reality
Tears in my eyes
For the life in my breath
My passing for living... no more passion for death.

"The Grip" ©1998 Dark Angel Ravenell
All Rights Reserved

I thought to make a lighter note
Within the lines of what everyone wrote
To tell our Lady Silvereyes
Of the mess I will surmise

I draw and paper gets on the floor
A have pencil dust and still there's more
As many things are not in store
Within each things respected drawer

Stationary piles on my desk
With paperclips and all the rest
Of power cords and and safety pins
All of which have no bins

Yesterdays fast food cartons
My favorite shirt's busted buttons
A little dirt from my boot
A little ash and fires soot

So many things so out of place
I know I should feel so disgraced
But oh, how I love this mess
As its caused from what I love best

Living life and having fun
All the night til morning comes
And then I'll sleep and dream
Of making another messy scene

Tattered ATM reciepts
And here it all comes to meet
My messy place I call my home
When shall the mess care for their own

Apologies for this post
It is needless so much more than most
But by a needle in my eye
I promised this mess to Silvereyes

- Sparatic poem "Ode to My Mess" ©1998 - Arphalia, dedicated in fond sistership to Lady Silvereyes

For what do we go on for, for why do we find our breath chambers expand to intake the air of every twilight dusk and morning...
In many travels, those few small journeys I find the meanings of what is and why, and yet, only by the retelling of that moment can I find expression enough to feel I might have captured it.
And still, as I sit here in front of magickal screens of passion, it always seems to fain the moment I thought of which I retell...

Basking below the horizon of the evening was a soothing gentle light and all the sky was a mist of color, a victory pool of destiny to the heavens for winning the peircing sun into submission.
And as the sky's drunken festival started to drown in the tones of the navy sea, something started to stir.
Looking out the shield of glass to the soft smooth music of sorrowful plea, my heart lulled in absense of itself as for what I gazed my midnight orbs upon next was certainly what had stolen it...
Teasing moon, how calm you hide behind the deluted seas of the darkening side of the earth.
So blessedly delicate do your peaks between their silver lined edges strike right through me.
I breath, my heart beats against my framework, a cool rush of air bites me within and the wind stirs to the slumbering sky a new warning...
The moon, the moon, she comes forth again to take away our darkening night to glow on us all.
And despite the trees blowing attempt to cover her face, the ocean lets her rise up cool and fresh, her lush nakedness shown as freely as a newborn stretching to its mother.
The sun's demise is cheered in an array of flags but the moon once again comes even after the most dreary moments and releaves me of my heat and dusty thoughts and suddenly I realize I am alone to breath and I am not in pain.
The songs of sorrow become shrines of honey sweet memories as if I am walking in winter looking on the summer's heavy burdens.
In the cold I seem to not shiver and for a slight shift of time I do not need to breath to survive.
I smile and thank my fate for the seeing of such transgressions, and so too do I seem to feel that nothing matters right now, not life or death.
It all just seems to be the same, and I am suddenly surprized in a rush of wonder at the world as the moon, she sheds the seas of misted tears of air to conquer the sky.
The wind seems to dance in wonder, as if the tiny light gives them ability to see their lover gusts as they pass and sensually touch the other's hand.
They touch my face like gentle faerie wings and I find myself inspired once again in a way no blood within myself or taken could ever match and last so long.
Perhaps such is but my simple pleasures in complex words, and yet in a simple gest my feelings pass through of this.
I gently shut my eyes and open them once again.....

Copyright ©1998 Dark Angel Ravenell
All Rights Reserved

She sits alone amoung the dead
The soft winds blow around her head
She hears a voice distant yet clear
Could it be her love is near?
Shaking and trembling she stands to see
The darkness and the tombs play tricks on me
The sound comes closer the darkness fades
Out steps a shadow from a ghostly grave
A cold and shaking hand reaches out
"Good Eve My Lady." The ghostly figure bows
I have come to keep thee safe here in this lonely place
This dark and sad spirit walks with me through the night
Keeps me company and talks of the night
But, you see this story must end
For the spirit went away blowing in the wind
I stand alone once more amoung the tombs
Looking and hoping that he will come again soon
I guess it wasn't my love after all
Just a friendly spirit that had come to call
She sits amoung the tombs
Wind blows through her hair
She hangs her head, sad and lonely once more
May be tomorrow, just may be he'll come.

Copyright © LadyDarkRose
All Rights Reserved

At the moment these are the only House Members that have added to our book.

Section Last Updated:
July 17, 1998

Featured Poets

Poetry of Friends of Andromeda

Return to the Room of the Dark Poetress

Return To Main Hallway