Victoria

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 My gloria,

remember Victoria?

As shadows begin to creep,

she prays for valor,

and hope not to weep ,

for to die, she must savor .

Remember Victoria?

Her love and her vow?

My own gloria,

the girl who was once your beau.

She aches to hear your voice,

Every night, she waits -

your heart, her sole choice.

Hence, to perish is her fate.

Do you remember her name?

Her enthusiasm?

Her spirit, her game?

Victoria, your phantasm.

Your lover, my dearest friend.

Guilt has been attained,

lies have come to end,

yet affection has remained.

Remember Victoria?

her madness, my feat.

All my gloria,

for my birth has been her death.

My gloria,
remember Victoria.

© Phoenix Montoya @ October 11, 2011

' Remembering a friend, remembering our love.'

Publish and earn at Triond

More dark poems by this author:

Warlock
Mesmerized
Immured

Morning Chills

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No wicked weather or cold air, not a clue,

for the world baths in rays of warmth.

The heaven, a peaceful hue of white and blue,

as beautiful songs fill the earth.

No ghastly someone to hold, or break us down.

The spirits of men have gone kind,

for only love remains, hauteur has been blown,

enclosed in a brotherhood’s bind.

No ill fortune, black cats or wretched curses,

for wizards and witches have left.

Our destiny lays safe from any forces,

yet, our choices exposed for theft.

Freezing or warm morning has been made perfect,

each dawn, a fresh and flawless start.

Ugly trials of yesterday, morning wreck,

hence, frost is only in the heart.

© Phoenix Montoya @ October 11, 2011

'Imagining the bright side of things.'

Publish and earn at Triond

More poems by this author:

Coming Home
Your Angel
Tell Him

Peaceful Evening

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How I long for the night –

be it starlit or starless,

gloomy or bright.  

Night time – Oh, such kindness!

Not that I am obsessed,

or a creature of the night.

But, someone blessed,

to attain it tonight.

Not that I seek escape,

from the certainty in light.

But to stay safe,

as I secure my fight.

Longing to close my eyes,

in the shade of a raven.

Mere man as I,

sleep – sweet piece of heaven.

© Phoenix Montoya @ October 11, 2011

'Night time passion.'

Publish and earn at Triond

More poems by this author:

Modern Amazons
Starting Fresh
White Lies

October Scare

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Spirits grow active.

On Halloween night, they roam,
haunting little kids.

Creepy, gruesome tales,
told in camp fires, young and old.
How they gasp in fear.

Gloomy areas,
some nestling spaces for ghouls.
Places to evade.

Fear for the unseen,
unaccountable rubbish.
Fiction amusement.

Fear is for people,
hiding behind evil masks.
Man’s monster within.

(c) MMV Abad @ Oct 28, 2009