a midnight villanelle

who really sleeps as the clock strikes twelve?
whispers blow in, brush aside the curtain
here comes a story I know too well

echoes creep on up the stairwell
this is no tango with the sandman
who really cares that the clock strikes twelve?

laughter hums on the wings of a spinning carousel
dreams cling to baubles, no longer hidden
there shines a story I know too well

secrets march through a madwoman’s show-and-tell
their spells denying the night to darken
who really shrieks as the clock strikes twelve?

undeserved is the hushed battle that here befell
the field can be no more flattened, for certain
here fell a story I know too well

she will have her way, this villanelle
insistence to existence goes beyond reason
she bares her face as the clock strikes twelve,
hers is a story I know too well

Katerina Marks
16 August 2015

the best we could

time stops as you kiss me goodbye
tears forever frozen in their place
all we did was the best we could try

your thirst too deep for all I cry
so many trails I cannot trace
and time stops as you kiss me goodbye

you cannot help your heart is dry
bleakest desert without grace
all we did was the best we could try

drawn out missteps ‘neath a lonely sky
our dance chaotic in its pace
now time stops as you kiss me goodbye

to continue on would be a lie
freeze our memories in this place
for all we did was the best we could try

I’d like to climb a ladder to the sky
to rest between the stars’ vast space
but time stopped as you kissed me goodbye
and all I did was the best I could try

Katerina Marks
15 June 2015

abandoned kingdoms

deep inside where it always stirs
kingdoms now stand in abandon
there will always be whispers

reigning alien daughters
spinning circles of confusion
deep inside where it always stirs

toxicity in familiar blurs
silence now goes unbroken
there will always be whispers

mysteriously gone wise elders
left behind damaged children
deep inside where it always stirs

to and fro facing flowers
whose secrets go unspoken
there will always be whispers

inside the ears of their keepers
rings a silent hum of caution
deep inside where it always stirs
there will always be whispers

Katerina Marks
17 March 2015

*Inspired by “Where are the BEES?” by Faraday’s Candle