Fishing in Cape Breton

Crisp
are the winds
that brought me to you
along the broken path
by the Ocean’s roar.
Jagged
were the rocks
that dangled beneath.
So close
to losing my footing
and slide
towards my demise.
Dangerous drops
rarely lead
to peaceful waters
and yet,
in all my meanderings
I failed to fall.
Rugged
was my resolve
in the hopes
that I too
could balance
on the fine line
that pushes
one foot
after the other
towards
the unknown.
Unfortunate
are those who strive
to maintain happiness
as a constant
instead of a rare pearl.
A thing
to be held close,
cherished
and observed
in moderation.
Happiness
isn’t a fish
you can catch,
but a fleeting moment.
Just breathe it in
and let it go.
Breathe me in…
And let me go.

A few short poems

A collection of short poems that will otherwise go unpublished, so I’m grouping them together here instead. Some of these have previously been posted to Twitter, so apologies if there is a bit of a repetition.

Half Moon Bay

The roar of the Ocean
Rules and narrow margins.
You stole my heart away
When we were in Half Moon Bay.

Morning Commute

Basic bitches in the back of the bus,
Shit sprawled all over the place.
I’ve never understood pumpkin spice lattes,
Maybe it’s the only spice they get in their lives
Future soccer moms and housewives.

(This was undeniably a morning rant)

Montreal

Ice in the night
Looks like latex
Brought to a shine
By an obedient little slave.

Submission

Subservient Subs
Surrendering Subconsciously
to Subliminal Subspace
like the Subspecies Subordinates
they long to be.

Succubus 1

Cry me your soul,
Let my hands slowly deprive you.
Oxygen fleeing, haggard existence
What does it feel like
To know that when you kiss me,
You are kissing death?

Montebello

A colourless day draws on
In cold observation of privilege
By the light of a dozen flames
Patagonia and Gucci abound
Wood, stone, and stained glass
The Succubus laughs silently
As loveless marriages melt away
On this crisp winter’s day

Melt

Time of spring
Icicles turned water
Frozen again
Time to slip

Bard Bits – Innocence

He marvelled at her innocence
Shining through in the darkness
An ethereal light amongst the shadows
Blissfully cradled in his arms
She was his angelic little slut.

Bee Mine

Darkness before dawn
A wasp flies up a mountain
Spread thighs await

Ode to a Fern

Leaning towards dying foliage
Desperate whispers part my lips
“I’ll cherish you forever.”
Fronds amiss, you sink into oblivion

Succubus 2

Create a void in me, so I lose sight
Embrace the upheaval of my thighs
Mountainous strength from beneath
As I erode myself into your world
Eager monster forsaking the gods
Devouring, until only the shell remains

© 2018 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved

Until We Meet Again – For S

The raw scent of musky love
Envelops my thighs
My back arches, beckoning your arrival
My legs spread gently,
Always willing and ready
To feed you, my relentless lover.

Hands perched on parted thighs,
Only the most palatable position
For the refined and dedicated palate
Of my energetic connoisseur.
A sigh exhales, a moan soon follows
Etching ancient art
Into the heat of my burning body
A bit of this, a splash of that,
Savouring the many shades that unfold
So deliciously onto your tongue.

Nails digging into shoulders,
You tickle me just right
A timeless creator of the sparks
That ignite the fabric of my being.
Aching…
Come closer, my love,
Please,
Yes, slowly…

The deafening rumbling
Of a wave crashing onto shore,
Parting the seas of my lust,
Electrifying my senses.
I gasp for air,
Insatiable.

Overwhelm me with your love,
Just a little longer…
Deeper.
Harder.
Forever.

© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved

Tiny Dancer

A thousand times I could die
Waiting for your love.
A wailing heart brings forth a song,
Of melancholy and mourning
For a love that only exists inside a box.
Unlatching, a tiny dancer turns
In melodic perfection, a pirouette of desire
What goes around, comes around, as they say.
She turns, again and again,
Always facing herself in the end.
Perfect imperfections splattered on a soul,
She’s there, at the tip of a tongue…
Little. Love. Lust. Lilith. Linger…
Never will her step falter,
For her puppeteer knows no other melody,
Save that of forgiveness and sorrow.
Alone, she turns, again and again,
Facing only but herself in the end.

© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved

Wolf – For W

What will the Wolf say
When he stares the sun in the eyes?
When night becomes day,
Day becomes night,
And hard feelings fossilize into amber?
When Smouldering creativity
Meets twilight inspiration,
And the world fades away…

When I think of you,
I see shadows dancing on the moon
And faerie lights tickling the darkness.
A midsummer’s night’s dream
Created from the meetings of strange minds.
Perfected, time and time again.
One stroke, then another, sacredly
Etching, connecting, correcting,
Before sinking into contemplation.

An eternal carnival in your lair,
My body dies, divides, renews
Becoming one, yet another
With every step of our twisted process.
A mask within a mask,
Inspiration…
A pile of pigment between your fingers,
A pinch of this,
A dab of that;
With the heave of a breast,
Lilith the predator, becomes prey
Caught by a hunter more skilled than herself.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
Physical manifestations of primal dreams
Can tell no lies.
So, dig your claws into the fabric of my creation;
Let your hot breath linger,
As your teeth reach for my neck.
And tell me,
My humble predator…
What does it feel like,
When you’re howling at the sun?

February

Originally written on February 8, 2014

As the brisk cold caressed our faces,
On this slow Sunday on a Saturday.
The Universe came to a halt.

I watched through the window,
A statuesque passerby smiling.
The traits of their frozen face,
Speaking a language beyond words.

On slow Sundays on a Saturday,
It feels like I’m floating above the world.
Every step feels like I’m on the moon.
Maybe the moon looks down on me,
Envious of my lack of gravity.

Slow Sundays on Saturdays,
Make the winter nostalgia lessen.
The numbing cold becomes Lavender,
Or a rainbow of Spring flowers.
The sound of a jazz piano,
Amidst the deafening silence of this day.

Come take a walk with me,
On this slow Sunday on a Saturday.
Watch the world through the eyes of
A minstrel of the moon…

© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved

Anisoptera – For J

Ephemeral emerald iridescence
Envelops the fragility of your oblong form
Barely seen, a flutter of translucent wings
Surrenders your position, caught in a ray of light
Enticed by the Succubus, like a moth to a flame

Your many eyes see beyond her carnal shell
Contemplating the woes of the disconnected
Shimmering belonging, you glisten in the sun
Of the one you love, now, then, and tomorrow
Until the cycle starts anew; a natural order
Reborn from the cold, dark, depths of the pond.

© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved