Murder in Melbourne

In the Kings Domain,
while roses weep,
homeless hands invade
pale flesh, stain a sleeping city
crimson.

Winter’s rime freezes
blood
as quickly as it spills –
dismissed by ghostly walkers
who see consent
within the brume.

Tattered thoughts flee,
scatter on a breeze
like leaves spilled
over dewed grass. A moan,
a sigh, the frenzied grind
of stained denim
on lace.

Ryan Stone

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Bedroom at Daybreak

A breeze saunters in,
brisk enough
to rouse spectres
from corners –
words flung like fists

fists flung like answers.
Passion smolders
then surrenders
to ash.

Outside a rosella
flays petals from a rose
until an empty husk remains

and I beg the fickle breeze
to carry me away.

Ryan Stone

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No One

dawn pauses, explodes
in a flash of carmine fire
flaring in the east

flaring in the east,
Icarus ascends his throne –
blazing flight of one

blazing flight of one,
Labyrinth behind, no one
makes it out alone

Ryan Stone

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Written for National Poetry Month 2016 @ The Music In It – Being Alone

Whispers

I am he who worships Spring
in moonlit mountain shallows.

I am he who watches you,
insubstantial shadow.

I am he who brings night’s ship
safe to morning’s shore.

I am he who loves you,
your servant, evermore.

Ryan Stone

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