Jessica Foyle

Jessica Foyle Poems

With beauty and grace, with her wings tipped in gold,
She danced with the roses; she danced in the cold,
Her delicate body that glittered with dew
Virgin eyes to the morning, so young and so new.
...

I bend and break your tender bows,
I cut and bleed you,
Yet you love me.
My people tear your roots,
...

Where do we go when there's nothing that's left here to do
What do we see when there's nothing to see here that's new
What's in a taste when there's nothing that's sweeter than you
Not a trace, not a place, not a face that compares quite to you.
...

Silhouettes in the cold blue light
Lovebirds dance in the dead of night
Trace the light with clasped fingers
The warmth of those eyes that still lingers
...

Fall like ash into your burning slumber
Coarse speech, black deeds
Opened eyes in wonder
Bitterness like waves upon a shore
...

Player of puppets, inventor of sin
The voice of a schizoid who won't let you in
Twists with his fingers the essence of sense
The screams of a creature that's caught on the fence
...

As fragile as this summers breeze,
Of sun kissed bloom and bumble bees
And deep as the depths of your eyes
As warm as the fire of the fireflies.
...

The Best Poem Of Jessica Foyle

The Bird And The Butterfly

With beauty and grace, with her wings tipped in gold,
She danced with the roses; she danced in the cold,
Her delicate body that glittered with dew
Virgin eyes to the morning, so young and so new.

She sang to the bluebells, she laughed with the trees,
Teasing the wind and chasing the bees,
She drank from the flowers and slept in the sun,
This sweet paradise, just perfect for one.

He flew through the leaves, as dark as the night,
His sleek, glossy body was catching the light,
And sending reflections that dappled the grass
His fearless demeanor and eyes of burnt glass.

So strong and so quick in his new paradise
As he snatched at the worms and the hardy woodlice
The black king of the creatures, the all-seeing eye
The shadow, the prowler, the hunter, the spy

His sharpened sense caught the whisper of flight
As it echoed around him and just out of sight
A flash of her gold, through the amber and green
When he saw her glide by, like a ghost of a dream.

And with all of their might and with every last breath,
They danced with each other, the dance of death
Their bodies caught up in this final sway.
The old sun held its breath as it watched the display, this last day

Until they fell like ash, swept into the breeze,
And the sun dropped down to its weary knees
And bowed its red head at the moon rising high.
And sang the bittersweet song of the bird and the butterfly.

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