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Sitting by her open window, Was a girl deep in thought, Lost within a book of Poe, A perfect poem she sought. With a curious eye, He watches her pen, For she gives it a try, Every now and then. He will visit her forevermore, In silent hours of midnight, Casting his shadow on her floor, Within the full moonlight. Mysterious, nocturnal bird, Calling out to darkened land, Speaking such wise word, Which I cannot understand. I am lonely, I must confess, It's just you, me and the moon, You are much like me, I guess, So, please sing me another tune. A messenger of death, Wailing songs of a banshee, Has my grim reaper cometh, Was this warning meant for me? My soul was projected, In the shadow of a fowl, A raven I had expected, Not the silhouette of an owl!
I do believe in magic I so believe in peace I believe you know undoubtedly Of beauties and of beasts The human spirit can withstand And rise above the shrine Belittle all you want, my dear I'll be the dwarf in time But I'll evolve as I hold dear These sentiments that haunt you I'll cherish every single tear Because you've plagued me to I'll turn the other rosy cheek Though undeserved it may be I will forgive, but won't forget The promised growth inspired in me Further more, I wish to say Remind me that I'm still alive Disturb the sleeping monsters Please provoke me to survive You compliment this hypocrite Attention seeking scum And help stick out the finger That outranks the sorest thumb
A fleeting still small voice tries to warn me A sudden overwhelming desire to run The tell tale taste of metallic flakes Means my nightmare has begun Everything around takes on a ghostly pallor A landscape of anguish and corrosion A moment of silence before the violence The flash of light, the brilliant explosion The sound of the Sun fills my ears Fear, my throat, though none escapes me And paralyzed I clench my eyes As my tormentor prepares to rape me And it's endeavor is absolute Consumption is its ultimate goal It exists to chase me so it can erase me Whilst feasting on my soul And then that familiar salty smell The sudden rush of warmth so stings Engaging me relentlessly In vile unspeakable things Over and over and over again My limbs stretched and wrought As it's teeth tear my bones bare It's mind defiles my thoughts And still wounds beget wounds beget wounds As in the mouth of madness I suffer And with every injury he just seems to be Rougher and rougher and rougher Then just as suddenly as it began it ceases And for a moment I am clearer And then the true horror of it all Is revealed in a darkly lit mirror There in front of me stands my destroyer Face flush with it's fill of my pain And I find that it's eyes and mine My God, they're one in the same
I think feel a breeze A breeze and a touch of horror Something makes my breath seize The stings of inner torture The beast of the dark just passes I hear the pings of its awfulness Horrible snuffs complementing terrible masses Something grip me here – oh fearfulness! Now what – silence… The quietness of the graveyard I sense trouble in disguise Only that worse turns bad Oh wait, I can see Slow approaches of eye balls The burning eyes of the black beast Monster, you, coming for me or my pulse This is it my adventure fiasco In the ever-dark ghost room I would rather die like a hero Behind this locked door with my rheum As I'll lay my back on this door Oh beast feast, on me feast I can hear quacks as I fall …the door open at least Massacre! Oh massacre of the beast Sun ray-the enemy of the dark monster Came in for its burnt feast Because the door opened
The lady In Red She missed out on the green silk dress; it was sold before she did buy But when the red dress came to the store she did not let this one pass her by The Lady in Red as she became known set out to dazzle and beguile She would turn many a head with such a dazzling sexy smile. This femme fatal set off, not realising the power she did now hold The swaying of the hips, she was indeed a picture of beauty to behold Its low cut neck did display a white décolleté of rare fine beauty Many came and offered his hand, on one knee as was his duty The Lady In Red was not easily won, her heart she kept hidden away Those that tried to win her, found there was a hefty price to pay The lady in the fire red dress, sashaying down the street Had them stepping out of doors, and stopping cars just to meet. One day the Lady In Red fell in love, and then the problems did start She found there was a price to pay, when she wanted to give her heart From praying to the devil one day, a dazzling beauty she asked to be He answered her request with a warning; "Your soul will belong to me." She was willing to pay any price to wear the red dress so beguiling She didn't look behind her or she would have seen the Devil smiling The fine print on her request to the Devil, she did not bother to read 'Your heart and soul will belong to me that's the payment for your greed.' The Lady In Red could not give love, just sashay far and wide Sweeping young bloods off their feet, then casting them out with evening tide Her heart would have broken, if it was still hers to keep The young man she fell in love with, was the one that made her weep He promised love and devotion if only her heart she could give When she said that didn't belong to her, he didn't want to live She tried to shed some tears but the devil dried them with his fiery finger "Next time you want something so bad, you better not let your eye linger." You asked for dazzling beauty, you promised you were willing to pay Don't come weeping to me because you have given true love away Beauty was more important to you than a genuine heart full of love You can take this young blood with you, and join as the hand in a glove But this love you found, this love you desire, the price must still be paid You can take this handsome youth, but under the ground he must be laid His life I ask in full recompense and then your love to him you can give But it will have to be in this lifetime, because you will not be allowed to live. © ~GG~3/12/2012
I am so far out of my element It almost seems unreal When in truth, which I always seek to find Pretence is all that I feel In this, my second language I aim to express the glistening skin That hides the shallow graves of conscience Trapped so deep within The pottery I shape in craft Though pedistilled and on display A camouflage that's merely drafted words of wisdom most portray And in the spirit of fairness As a virtue which we all possess Accept my resignation For this sport has had its best I'm off to party hard and waste My life as best as I know how The animal within this chest Needs freedom to survive for now The playing game of words is but a winding road that's filled with stone I'm parched in parts unheeded As my cluttered soul heads home
Noah's ark was real not a fiction It had a door to escape God's affliction Noah delivered a warning message But the folks mock their own presage Men grew in sin and matured in transgression And ignored Noah's loving confession The Door stood open a long time Until time begin to climb The Lord finally shut the Door And the rain begin to pour 120 years of grace finally came to a halt God administered judgment by default The Door was a glorious type of Christ He was the Lamb of God who was price Jesus said "I am the Door of the sheep" He is the only Door of that Great ship Jesus is our Door of salvation Wherein we enter and float as new creation Behold He stands at your door this day and knock Let Him in, you'll find pasture as a partaker of His Holy flock Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep- John 10:7
The lighthouse stands atop the hill, A warning for the sailors, That here be shallow waters, Reefs and widow makers. She stands there in all weather, To shine her beacon bright. Through wind and rain and dark of night, She's there to shine her light. Some say the lighthouse came to be, Because of an old story, About a sailor coming home, Braving some storm's fury. His ship went down somewhere 'round here. The sailor lost his life, And now whenever there's a storm, You'll see the sailor's wife, Standing high atop the hill, A lantern in her hand, And if you look along the shore, Sometimes you'll see a man. He comes out of the water, To climb the wind swept hill, Where she stands with lantern light, Waiting for him still. Judy Ball
In the mist of life, I have found myself lost and alone in a wood dark and gray. A chill to the bone, a fall to the depth a longing to feel the warm rays of day. There was but one road which ran to a church. There was many roads that ran far in the wood. Like a fool I have run past Elm and Birch this lost road turned to a trail where I stood. A dark cloud now forms a narrow cold sky a wind from the North, which blows coastally. My choice brings no answer only a sigh it made years ago and so willfully. Weary am I of a life on this path wishing to visit my option again. Fearing my Lord or fearing His wrath I backtrack this road but only in vain. Before me a puzzle of rock and stone reaching far back before a road in time planted me deep in a mist with no tone searching for a life, that I could call mine. This narrowing track turns back on itself, the undergrowth soon will stand in my way. In the mist of life, I have found myself Lost and alone in a wood dark and gray.
Can it truly be said that a man is mere logic when I see your emotion as if it hung in the air? Can it truly be said that a woman's mere feelings when my brain is like clockwork in logic to bare? Leaning tos, that is another discussion for I will admit that I lean toward the tears and maybe you too would admit just for reference that you have the mechanics of a man of your years But don't you think too, that a blending occurs right at the moment two soul mates connect and each leans in toward the other's attraction they otherwise fell, in their days, to neglect? Perhaps that is why your eyes well up quite rightly when you see that my heart has been scorched by design And maybe that's why I hold common sense tightly and wrap it in gauze to be precious in kind We are just truly conjoined puzzle pieces with traits to be honored as sweet compliments Whether it's logic or sheer, raw emotion we balance each other in complete confidence.
Brambles tear my cold bare feet, I search the wood for you, the forest says it is complete there's nothing I can do. You left a letter on my chest as silent as a dream you said I know you did your best but I'm not what I seem. branches whip my tear streaked face the wind laughs through the trees, they say at last you have a place from which you'll never leave. A crush of berries marks your trail so black beneath the moon I know I seek to no avail why chant the ancient rune. a comet streaks across the sky and rain begins to fall turn back I hear the river sigh, you never knew at all. I turn my face up to the stars and shriek a dirvish howl I've nothing but a heart of scars and you ,oh fiend most foul! Idon't care what you have become, I don't care who you 'll be come back,come home, let this be done, I cannot set you free.
Shake the snowflakes from your shawl, throw it there across the chair, come and sit down with us all, we have stories we can share, Solstice time is coming on we are gathered here tonight, that no soul shall be alone, we will hold each other tight, lean against the door my son, barracade us all within, for before this night is done, something evil will come in. screams and moans may sear your soul, but you must not turn aside, God will aid you in your goal, Keep the Windigo outside! Hark ,my son,I hear him howl, on the ridge above the creek, Windigo,oh fiend most foul, you shall not gain what you seek! Okay.............. were you all afraid? did I spin a scary tale? well "tis just a joke I played, oh my,but you're looking pale. Horror stories are the thing sitting late before the fire, don't get mad, come ,let us sing, no, I'm really not a liar. What's that knocking that I hear? someone open it and see..... ' tis the Windigo my dear ............. and it's coming just for me.
Mystic Tinklings Mystic tinklings Ancient echoes from the past Fleeting inklings Glimmer just beyond your grasp Phantom footfalls When you know that you're alone Echoed choircalls Of a long forgotten song Shadows slipway From the corners of your eye Darkened hallways Hints of time passed by Brief reflections Of things you did not see Vast collections Of the things that used to be
In the green countryside of Wales, A castle sits, dark and decaying, It holds many ghostly tales, That the locals keep relaying. Surrounded by majestic, rolling hillsides, Covered by a gray, misty shroud, And cliffs high above the blue sea tides, Where voices still ring out loud. What was once a beautiful garden, Where all the children used to play, Has been left to whither and harden, Just as the castle was left to decay. Long cobwebs hang like curtains of lace, In windows that remain dark and cold, Someone still walks the crumbling staircase, Just as they did in the days of old. They walk the towers and through the halls, Making the dusty, wooden floors creak, Their portraits still hang on the walls, Where the voices of the dead still speak. The empty rooms will never make a sound, But, if you listen hard enough to their history, Stories of romance and love still abound, Along with secrets of murders and mystery. Written by: Kelly Deschler - August 8th, 2013 Giorgio V's contest - "In The Faraway" - the theme is gothic
You sit in darkness, watching the lightning, You listen to every clap of thunder, There could be nothing any more frightening, But, in your mind you still wonder. The howling wind blows the curtains, The falling rain taps your window pane, There is nothing there, you are certain, But, an uneasy feeling drives you insane. Tree branches sway within the breeze, Their shadows fall along your wall, You find every explanation with ease, And convince yourself it's nothing at all. A black shadow darts in your direction, There's nothing more menacing than that, Two eyes are seen with the light reflection, Suddenly, you realize it's just your cat. But, then a cold chill races down your spine, It's not the wind, your window is now closed, You try to say that everything is fine, So, what is it, do you suppose. Listen, something is walking up the stairs, You can hear it's footsteps on the floor, All this tension begins to raise your hairs, Do you dare open your bedroom door.
You hide away in summer When other blooms fill fields In a dark room you sit and wait 'Til Christmas time is here Is it the joy of Christ's birth That awakens a welcome stranger Do you peer out to see the light That hovers above His manger You are the only flower That seems to recognize The hope and peace in hearts And angelic carols in skies
Is that a sphinx we see on Mars Resembling the one in Egypt Just how were the pyramids built And pharaohs placed in lavish crypts When Mars' oceans began to dry Did species seek preservation Did ancient astronauts arrive To colonize a new nation To date, the complex construction Of Egypt's tombs sparks speculation Are Martians in man's family tree Hanging limbs, green blood relations * For the "Sphinx Head on Mars?" contest
It is the cold of winter blue Ice wraps the edges of the night A crown of stars bedecks the sky Like twinkling diamonds bright Morning breaks with slow footsteps Still the heavens shine with light But soon they fade into the day A diamond's remnants now out of sight..... Barbara Gorelick
Offshore in a Key West snorkeling trip The old tar captain was really quite hip Asked where the Bermuda Triangle was, At first he laughed, then looked at me with pause "About twenty yards yonder," he replied You should have seen how my eyes opened wide "I was on a ship once," he continued, "Through a deep green mist our vessel did glide." He swore a UFO hovered above Until the fog lifted and skies were clear "Oh, my!" I cried, "This is what I write of -- I can't believe the triangle is so near!" Though captain and crew had been left unharmed All of them remembered that eerie day Just as I'll not forget feeling alarmed With the triangle not so far away The captain had tales, legends in his head An incredible inspiration source That night on land as I lay in a bed I wished I'd learned more; I felt much remorse *True Story. I was writing a book on Atlantis and the Bermuda Triangle when I met the old captain. *For Craig Cornish Contest on tge Most Fascinating Person I Knew
I'm a four Me, I am a number four Or twenty two, worth so much more A master number, this it be Practical, they say, that's me. 27 September 2014. For Andreas contest 'What's your number' Born 11 March 1943.
Waking up in the dark of night barely four years of age. My world is wrought with fright not knowing my life would be a stage. That little girl long ago was innocent… pure… but now she is who I no longer know. My mind is a disease for which there is no cure. At day I have no rest. At night I can not flee. Sanity is a rare guest and when he comes I can't see. This is my curse so real: I can't forget the dreams, and 'reality' surreal is something I've never met. So chirp, little robin, chirp and sing! For today once more you entertain well. So be merry, let the world its troubles bring! For tonight once more you feast in sheer, bloody Hell. Your ability to remember will be your curse to flee. Each year, January to December You will wish you had not known memory.
While walking on a sunny beach I suddenly gave out a screech For my feet tapped Down to a dark trap It was none other than a chest Written on it was, for the best I opened it at last at dusk And wowed at its fragrance of musk A gem was placed in it Colored bright and pulsating like a spirit Full of life, it spoke Thou must not take me for a joke For I have the portal I am the one so magical With me, you shall travel All over the universe O sheer Marvel Keeping the gem safe Finding in it hidden solace My treasured chest became my grace And became my most precious mace!
Black night like raven peaks its strides On ashen wings hung low on breeze, While moon turns her crepe face and hides Dragging through seams of vagrant trees. Just when the thick of fog devours A hundred moths chain-links the sky; To pirouette in blazes, shine the hours Changing eve with diamond eyes. Meshed web of stars peeps through frail light As if to send a dazzling sign, That glossed winds can unwrap night"s plight When jeweled bugs and stones align Nature Theme Contest of Kim Morrison by nette onclaud
This empty space waits, along a dim marsh where paramour hides from tints of red dew, and crackling boughs grip like a whiplash on venial sins of passion, long the slew. Her pace quickens to reach Eden's boulder weighing low, chained by raked emotion knowing not why ecstacy grips a dare; as ravens swoop in twilight procession. The illlicit hours reel a tempting game venial sins genuflect without relief, that holy stars warp in foiled cellophane while gangrene clouds dodge like a hidden thief. Her secret man appears, bearing moon's core to flame clandestine hours into moans' thrill there, shadows quench for more of rain's downpour as pleasure and pain mix a tyrst, fulfilled. Gothic or Romantic Old/ New, Giorgio V.'s Contest * Gothic Romanticism by nette onclaud
T I N Y T H O U G H T I wonder if over the cliff was it hard reviling the card it never was usually does look my way make it go away don't want to do hurt you reasons gone we don't belong I better run stick around for fun open mind color blind our time is now doing crime should I or shouldn't I stick around you won't frown play my tricks love can't be fix perfect never maybe clever hear me out leave you in doubt on me do not rely my soul will not comply holding back the tears today passes 6 years handled what i got something that was not giving my best shot to a tiny thought (p.d.)
THE CROSSING* 1. On the bank of oblivion's river A soul hastily arrives Wishing to cross on the other side Where eternity resides 2. Has been preparing for the crossing Since the first day of her birth But now that the moment is so near She is afraid of her death 3. More few moments she is begging For much better to prepare Before the Charon with his boat Her, to perpetuity transfer 4. Death however is adamant Since to delay he can not So he is reminding the soul That it is her mortal lot 5. With dread she is now boarding For the trip of no return But surprised she is to find That this is of no concern 6. As the crossing is completed And the soul disembarks On the land of sanctified This is now what remarks 7. All worries and all burdens That she carried all along When imprisoned in the body In that place don't belong 8. For first time she is sensing Real freedom in her being Such amount of love and beauty This world has never seen 9. At an instance she turns holy And with angels she soars To the heavens of the blessed Where her creator adores! © Demetrios Trifiatis 16 OCTOBER 2013 * In my previous poem I dealt with " MAN'S LIFE", "THE CROSSING" deals with what comes after that! If one has the time it would be a good idea to read both for a better understanding of the circle of life and death as it is presented here! Thank you!
Who is Bigfoot's Great-grand Daddy? Whether living in a city or on the mountain side, People from the world around astound us with their views. He's nine-feet tall, a hairy thing, uprightly he flees astride. Only tracks are left behind and the mystery accrues. They say that Big Foot does exist and for eons has survived. A humanoid of greatest size a hairy manlike beast. Is he really all they say, or are the stories contrived? And if he lives, tell me, are our imaginations fleeced? (Genesis 27 … paraphrased…) Jacob goes to get two goats and steal his father's blessing. Their mom prepared a feast of goat, delicious, to Isaac's taste. Then, tied goatskin to Jacob's neck and hands, realizing. Jacob dressed in Esau's clothes calmly goes to his father with haste. Meanwhile, Esau, far away was hunting for venison as asked. Traipsing around through the scrubby woods tracking. Moving quickly with his great might to fulfill his father's task. A man with hair like that of a goat, his birthright was loosing. Jacob smelled like Esau and the fields, but his voice… Isaac questioned, so he felt Jacob's goatskin clad hands. Satisfied by the goatskin disguise, destiny made its choice. Jacob received a blessing of wealth and all of his father's lands. When Esau returned with the venison feast, deceit was revealed. But it was too late his birthright was gone; he was very mad. "Give me a blessing, father please." He begged as he kneeled. You shall live on the fat of the earth…unyoked…his father said. I wonder – Is Bigfoot, like Esau, a hunter-gatherer with hands as hairy as a goat? Does he live independently, a type of man, a scary giant beast? Wandering upon earth, too and fro, with life barely afloat. Brothers separated by that ancient deceit filled feast. Is Bigfoot the hunter-gatherer living on the fat of the land? Has he since the day of Rachael's scam lived secluded and beastly? Have generation upon generation descended that ancient hunting man? Could Isaac in the Bible be Big Foot's ancient Great-grand Daddy?
The seemingly tranquil sky blooming with stars soon pierced by a distant cry that seems to swoon. Beneath dense trees standing tall to touch dark canvas painted after dusk, prowls the epiphany of all mother nature's tainted. The wise are often alone and the dangerous hated, but they express in moan their solitude, once more grated. Gradually their voices unite in a song across the valley, seeming to smite all of innocence's nest. The moon in her splendour moves to comfort the carnivores that commence, and yet her beam soothes not the beasts' sense. Torn between wrong and right the moon spreads her swanlike wings amidst the howls of her lovers, the kings of the night… among the wolves in the mist.
Wafting on winds many miles from home. Hovering together splashes of black and white. A Zebra Longwing colony home from the day's roam, Oh, how happy I was to see that old familiar sight. Monarchs and Viceroys dash back and forth. But Zebra Longwings roost after each days dance. How did they get here so far north? Eggs or chrysalises traveled by hurricane, perchance. The pungent scent of lantana, there nourishment lies. A delicious yellow and orange feast; oh sight. The sweet nectar would fill the visiting butterflies. Thickets and trees were explored, too, with delight. Gathering at night, hovering, unlike other types. That nostalgic moment felt so good inside. Remembering long ago chasing illusive stripes. Years had passed but butterfly kisses still abide. © April 11, 2011 Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: A Butterfly's Trail Of Kisses Sponsored by: Gail Doyle
Recall a moment on Friday evening waiting for the bus, I heard a loud bang a car careened into a pole, debris scattered, pedestrians stared, bewildered. What happened? all inquired, much confusion. various causes considered – drinking likely, most supposed, the occupants still inside, stunned, immobile, then one emerged – unscathed, no injuries apparent. Female occupant unstable, impaired by drink or shock, indeterminate right then the bus arrived at this juncture - this tale incomplete – what happened next? – unknown cause.
The old shop was dilapidated; The entry sign was faded gray. "Magic Beans", the old gypsy stated. I was feeling gullible that day. "What do these magic beans do?" No instructions were included. "They do what you need them to do." A few dollars less, transaction concluded. I walked home with my magic beans, And left them forgotten in a drawer. Nothing changed, of so it seems. What ever did I buy them for? Assuming the magic must be broken, I soaked my beans, gave them a rinse. Cooked them, spiced, served with bacon; And forever after haven't farted since. Mark Halliday 20150105
Amazing love begs perception, wide the fields' uncertainty, deep the valleys of depression, Why me, Lord, why tragedy? When difficulties we embrace, is accident on purpose? Seeds produced by misfortune's grace lie just below the surface. Roots of hope with blooms that rally smother buds of pain and doubt. These are lilies of the valley turning breakdowns wrong side out. Trust becomes our rose of Sharon that is stayed by sacred sheath. Watch the maze of weeds turn barren as raring love springs thru the heath.
When People Fall When people fall from buildings it's alright They die for a reason Like love, hate or architectural anomalies Still, they have to pay a fine because suicides illegal When people fall from planes it's hard To find your footing At 30,000 feet you're sure to meet your maker When jet comes apart and no brakes to apply When people fall from cliffs it's difficult To hear them going down from a distance From a slip or mishap Perhaps an equipment design or human flaw When people fall from grace it's crazy They say free fall is fun…at first It happens over time and makes you lazy When you land you'll find it hurts When people fall short it's cute You're parachute won't open I guess that's because you're on the ground This revelation should keep you safe and sound
I can hear you, I know you're there, You can hear me too, In this home we share. Are you someone I knew, Someone from the past, Can it really be true, When had I seen you last. Or did you live here, A long time ago, You, I do not fear, This I hope you know. Did you just pass away, Like most people do, Why do you stay, Was life taken from you. Was your life so tragic, That your spirit will remain, Just like a trick of magic, Your form you can regain. You might watch me at night, But I never have seen you, Will I recognize the sight, As a face that I once knew. Written by: Kelly Deschler Giorgio V.'s contest - "Impress Me", themes- spiritual / gothic?
I found something Closely hidden Behind a door That says; forbidden Behind this door A room full of mystery Unknown desires Ready to become history
Words spoken in silence, [When language does not suffice] Like a look or a tear, although concise Can echo a lifetime in your ear, Much louder than those you can hear.
Transparent of darkness of the sea touched only briefly state of lonely madness in disfigured shadows bowed moonlight mastering feats of fathom light that is calling so swiftly..... I plant feet deep unto the bright that are traveled in sweeping waves more reluctant butterfly of the fathom of light I have begged to fly into the bittersweet swells misty future to forsake floating unseen creatures in the stormy seas ... I preferred to stare to the future and bury my eyes from the nonchalance of living things and lies that face others on this living night.... Thoughts that never left a simply poet like me calling mysteries to explore holding on to answers with all my heart in the fathom light of the sea that echo's my name... Brooke
people whispered about the mysterious girl with her face hidden behind an invisible shroud no one ever met her nor gave it a swirl because of the presence of her unfathomable cloud she wears her black long skirts and hair in a wide whorl her body and jewelry recide about her being proud her naked neck reveals her necklace with a massive black pearl all accentuate clearly a mystical loner in the middle of a crowd young and old villagers still use words as a hurl invisible stoned layers that enshroud the arcane witcher affects people in a whirl their fears make them scolding out loud each sundays her bracelets ornamented arms would unfurl her facial beauty expressing such a secretive magellanic cloud accepted during church service when she's the church choir girl her enchanting soprano voice angelic avowed the parish blinded in nescience and prayer for her spit curl their enigmatic choir soloist making them proud a cold wind outside makes her shroud birle her occult mystery resonates all week mystically loud people whisper about the mysterious small town girl with her face hidden behind an invisible shroud no one ever meets her nor will give it a swirl because of the presence of this unfathomable cloud (c) Elly Wouterse PS. I guess most readers will connect "Gibson Girl" with the guitar brand... actually the title of the poem refers to something different! The Gibson Girl began appearing in the 1890s and was the personification of the feminine ideal of beauty portrayed by the satirical pen-and-ink illustrations of illustrator Charles Dana Gibson during a 20-year period that spanned the late nineteenth and early twentieth century in the United States and Canada.[1] The artist saw his creation as representing the composite of "thousands of American girls." The Gibson Girl in my poem is different. She's 'bewitched" and therefore the personification of a very different kind of a "Gibson Girl". There are so many very nice and beautiful 'black/dark dressed/looking/behaving girls out there yet so few seem to notice their outer and inner beauty......... Only a few placements on this awesome winners list and this poem is one of them - Contest Winner Medal 1 Bewitching Power Debbie Guzzi Contest Winner Medal 2 Tale of a Witch - Modern Day Andrea Dietrich Contest Winner Medal 2 The Witch Next Door Carrie Richards Honorable Mention Witch's Treedom Richard Lamoureux Honorable Mention The Obeah Woman - Witchcraft Pandita Sanchez Honorable Mention Contemporary bewitched Gibson girl Elly Wouterse Honorable Mention Black Witch Gary Bateman
A wolf cries for the goddess of the night in the distant hallows of sound, yet reality's claws rips fantasy with fright and dreams between its teeth, ground. Still the dark of death has not yet settled for dusk still bleeds, the scarlet tears into lakes and rivers and seas mingled like wrists slit to sign creeds. Pain is not to last long for time heals the slights and mourning should turn to song, but the days will die and so will lights. Night approaches the threshold of time and heaven's wounds are healing in a show so sublime, one notices not the danger's gleaming. Finally the light gives up life. The final breath slips out from it's husk. Ominous and eerie, night's knife plunges into the heart of scarred dusk.
Golgotha seemed no risk to view, As the Place of the Skull beckoned anew. My heart hammered for I saw no escape From the man with a shovel and tattered cape. His shovel waved, as if to attack, And he gave the ground a wicked whack. He shoveled some dirt and filled a hole, Then I recalled the story told. After the Crucifixion, like one possessed, To fill every hole was this man's quest. He said, "I caused His death, to my shame. The hole for the cross was my blame!" I replied, "Sir, he died for you and me, To fill holes in our lives, don't you see?" As he stood weeping, his mind in shock, I said, "Sir, we need to talk."
The tarot cards are splayed to form a Celtic cross, A tale of past, present and future hopes and fears, A tale of how once precious love was lost And answers to a question that carries through the years. The Emperor casts its' spell whenever it is played, He is Zeus, the great King Minos, with powers of life and death, The symbol of our father's power, commands we should obey. Yet, experience has taught, a path of caution is best. He is stability, authority, discipline and control, But also ego from which corrupted power grows. The other cards that fall will help us search our souls And help us overcome the obstacles we know. May we seek to use the Emperor's rule for good, To rise above temptation for deceit, And use the Emperor's strength the way we should, Not burdened with egocentric self conceit. For Tracie's Terot Contest
It has been standing here forlorn: Now a burning house on fire; None's here to rush or shout for help: There's None for it a crier… A gloomy place this has been For past a year and score; I've known this place since kidship days: It never felt so sore. What else can I but do, Than watch and not respond— I feel the attachment weighing me down Now while I slouch in despond… (Quick! Fetch some water—do someone— I shall be its Crier— But it burns with much vigor— Flames are rising up higher) It's always stood separate from all, In a state of mortal plight; I never, ever before, saw it Glowing thus, so bright.. …So, here I see a picture of How my thoughts could Clash, And witness in silence now, It's disbanding to Ash…
< earth ~ third planet from sun liquid and iron ~ cores continents ~ islands ~ pun arctic icing ~ drips pores wind ~ natures own fury flow gasses ~ bulk movements storm ~ hurricane ~ jury place in pocketbook ~ dent fire ~ oxidation combustion ~ releasing heat ~ light ~ good ~ tar nations pollution ~ choking ~ thing water ~ called H2O oxygen ~ hydrogen evaporation ~ goes will exceed supply ~ when ? earth ~ wind ~ fire ~ water Nature's elements ~ sure Entry For Barbara Gorelick's The Four Elements Contest G.L. All
Dear Diary Dear diary, you know I love you so And treasure your pages I never lied to you as that would be fallacious And not in keeping with the full disclosure laws in Europe At first I confused you with dairy products And would leave grass in your pages to eat late at night While I masturbated over cartoon shows Waiting for you to moo I guess that was wrong and I was young You were simply a book and not there to judge me Or book me and put me in jail Forgive me diary as I forgive you for missing pages…By the way…. What happened to June 3rd. 2004 pages?... Remember?... I was quite explicit in writing several pages on the subject of An orgy in Atlantic City with show girls, under the boardwalk Involving fruits, vegetables and assorted live action toys Dear diary, I must confess, I also thought you were diarrhea Kept you by the toilet and treated you like a guest One last question Mr. or Mrs. Diary or whatever the case might be Are you mute? I never hear from you… I guess that's good dear diary 5/16/14 Dear Diary Contest
She's fighting me all the way. She won't hear it. It's a definite detriment, to the spirit. Perhaps it's the way I'm presenting it, She wastes our time, just resenting it. The Lord somehow Has me in training, and uses these heartaches, for explaining. "There, there now, My little fool, It's so simple, My Golden Rule."
Back when I moved from Montreal to Toronto Invited some old friends for a visit They were leaving Montreal early in the morning Their arrival, I sure didn't want to miss it Left work at three travelling north to the highway As I entered the onramp I heard This annoying, obnoxious blowing of a horn Who was this damn joker, this nerd Surely could have knocked me over with a feather For there among the gas fumes and chrome Were my dear old friends, laughing and shouting They let me in and followed me home Timing had to be totally bang on the money The freakiest of happenings, bar none Some things in life are totally mind bending And this most assuredly was one Though many long years have since past and gone Each time I relate this tale Sends chills up and down this old spine of mine And my bodily functions set sail © Jack Ellison 2012 "True story..."
Just a little, maybe a few drops In a cup that was once full For you_tea just like you wanted_tops But there is some left that was cull Well at least once you thought That you really wanted it Not like some of that you bought Or acquired through other means__get So is life filling of the cup Drinking it up until almost empty Left to be dumped not savored sup A pity the last drops are the best of tea
For this poem to work, I need four in the fore, that's what I'm looking for. For the four in the fore it may become a bit of a bore Because the four in the fore need to know the score It's Debbie not me that wants the four in the fore, who the heck knows what for…? ~GG~ 14/11/2012
Once upon a solstice night thou moon in perfect glory hung an effervescent light to tell a lonely story A silhouette of pure white cotton danced on the rain laden ground her rhythm remembered of passion forgotten as beauty seductively moved without sound Fullest moon ah cricket symphonies floating droves of firefly light they found their muse by her solitary mystery 'twas a grandest moment in life What good reason would an olive skinned maiden In bare feet dance under solstice moon? her feelings were larger than her life's narration such grand imagination needs room The only eyes that saw her that night were the nocturnal creatures that prey like men riding high upon entitlements right fierce as time... as it's slipping away She danced a wingless flutter her hair like petals in the wind like dreams laced with summer her eyes were full of fire for the flint To know the riddle of her soul one must know the poets tune examine her language without diminution to know the ghost in the dance which she holds Yes, once upon a solstice night mesmerized by the lure of the moon she left her tears upon her bed and choose instead though alone... her dance with fate to resume
Pardon, May someone please; What is this place? Why does it appeare that time itself slows? Why do Butterflies throng and heartbeats race? Why do hearts melt as tho' snowflakes, Whom knows?
I wait for the flapping sound of wings Come for me, sacred falcon of ancient kings! With penetrating eyes it examines all who calls A worthy soul if it sees, upon them it swiftly falls Unhesitating talons sink into grateful flesh and bone Tired blood spills and returns the earth an ancient loan Dead weight is lifted, carried ever higher, but They cannot enter the lofty realms of desire What was made of dirt must return to the earth; The falcon raises its head and strikes at my chest It seems to ask me, "Are you ready to be bled?" Skin is pierced, bones are cracked; my heart is opened (Am I dead?) Blood-red rose wrought on the cage of my ribs The falcon strikes again, it bits and it spits It digs deeper, fiercely it seeks a treasure It`s torture, it`s pain - dark twins of pleasure My heart is torn, suddenly the falcon shrieks As a shiny pearl in its beak it reveals This, my essence, it keeps, the rest must fall The pearl is my life, my spirit, my all The falcon keeps climbing to an immeasurable height Starlight greets us; there`s silence there and might The pearl is released, quietly it glows And its lonely light back onto the earth it throws
Math can be confusing, With numbers, equations, and more Hard to understand, Try to break it down to the core When there is no where to turn, You wonder, does math involve lore? Probably not, but it's worth a try, Since the stress makes you sweat through pores Math can be confusing, With numbers, equations, and more Hard to understand, Try to break it down to the core
What's the big deal with garage sales Buying another man's junk Just because the price is dirt cheap People wind up in a funk They blindly go from house to house Looking for that special treasure A wobbly beat up old coffee table A saddle of genuine leather Once bought an antique gramophone Sits downstairs gathering dust When I first laid eyes on this treasure To own it was an absolute must Now what's the sense of buying stuff That you'll never use for sure You won't see it again in your lifetime The logic's a bit obscure 1-800 Got Junk? You've seen the signs everywhere Don't get caught up in this buying frenzy You'll just leave it all to your heirs! © Jack Ellison 2012
The yellow moon. The moon she rides the morning skies So big and round and yellow There's kind of mystic, magic feel On this morning, soft and mellow I walk along these lonely streets On this sweet, precious morn It's just three hours away from now And a new day will be born. There's so much blessed mystery When the full moon rides the sky It gives life such a magic glow The morn it deifies. I feel like howling like a wolf As wild, he haunts the prairie It's a feeling that's is kind of strange It comes to me so rarely. Such magic in this brand new morn It sinks into my soul As yellow moon, she rides the sky And the whole world feels so whole. 9 July 2014 @ 1155hrs.
Time passes and I wonder how did I come to be here. I remember watching you from across the misty lawn. My heart seems to stop beating and I'm almost in fear. One minute I see you so clearly, the next minute you're gone. Maybe I'm dreaming and I never saw you at all. And why am I scared at the same time drawn to you? Your sultry stare captivates me completely in thrall. I shake my head as if it would change my perfect view. I will myself to walk far away from your entrancing eyes. I'm shaking and I can't figure out why I'm so scared. This has to be my imagination playing tricks on me I surmise. Then you appear before me as if by magic and I'm unprepared. I panic, breathing heavy as I turn to run where you can't find me. All of a sudden you're before me and I never even saw you pass. I try to go in another direction, my instincts say to run, flee. Hiding in a room, hoping you won't see me thru the stained glass. No such luck, you somehow breathe my name from parted lips. How could you know my name, I've never even met you before. You swoop behind me and my body is lost to your shadow's eclipse. Grabbing me, tearing into my throat, lapping up the blood and gore. My knees give way and I'm too stunned to even manage a scream. White spots cloak my vision and I'm feeling as if I may just faint. I look down at my favorite dress, in the moonlight my blood gleams. A calm washes over me and the biting feels good, isn't that quaint? Darkness swallows me and to my relief, I am feeling nothing more. Visions of gnashing teeth, and spurting blood haunt my once peaceful rest. Jerking awake, only to realize I lay in a crumpled heap, incredibly sore. I see that I have a bite on my throat and an even bigger one on my breast. How will I explain this, and what do I do now, where do I go? No one will believe me, I'd never believe it if I wasn't here to see. How odd, I seem to be healing fast, I see that scabs are starting to grow. I walk towards nowhere, this night was something I didn't foresee. I sniff the air and smell an oddly familiar scent of earth, musk and fur. It seems to pull me in that direction, as if I no longer have control. My instincts tell me that I am going somewhere safe and secure. I'm healed now, my dried blood now leaves me wondering, do I still have a soul?
I watch a hare race all about the woods, Along with children from the neighborhoods. Stiletto claws of hawk pounce on a mouse While I am watching from the wooden house. Today I watch the rain slide down the drain As silver-threaded drops still drip in vain. I love gray days when rain's contained in pools, Almost as much as I love watching fools. I watch and wait with great intensity To change my range of brain activity Indigenous to journeys near and far Beyond Orion's belt to every star. A child must stay a child inside the wild When childhood as a child has been defiled; For then is when the watcher comes alive To help the minds of children to survive. I pray away demonic thoughts that play Upon my troubled mind in every way, But prayer and medication stem no tide Of fulminate psychosis I abide. My dreams seem quite disturbed I must admit And hope that most will fail to ever fit Inside the pride that hides in memory Where rarely can one find reality. Both father and fair mother lie in beds, So cold and dead since I split wide their heads To see if I could see why I am me With hope to change my future history. Tomorrow I may borrow your fine mind And peek inside to see what's left behind; I hope to find the wine of wisdom's soul Then hide your borrowed brain inside a bowl.
What is the attraction with the lake? Why are we drawn to its side? Is there something mysterious about it? Is there something it's trying to hide? Does it hold the deep dark secret Of a lady in a flowing white gown? Was she the victim of some evil doing? Did she unceremoniously drown? This is how the old story goes You can believe it or call it poppycock A jealous lover tied her feet to a boulder Threw her off the end of the dock Now every evening at sundown As a mist starts to rise from the water The shadowy figure of a woman appears The image of somebody's daughter The tortured spirit of the "Lady of the Lake" With her mournful cry for release Forever to rise from the lake at sundown Nevermore to rest in peace! © Jack Ellison 2014
The sky touches the ground. The poorest wears the crown. The worlds richest, now begging for heavenly riches. What and who is glorified on earth, but not glorified in heaven.
She's been gazing, staring, all the night long I've been scared, sheepish, stupid, and sad I'm kissing her after the next love song If my insecurities aren't that bad. She's so effervescent, she doesn't know It's not even about the looks, it's deep. I swear I'm looking into her soul, woah! Into this mystery I'll glide, don't weep. Come on Derrick, it's time to rise and shine Be the man, be the love, be the best, try. She deserves it, make her smile just divine Look at the mistletoe, over her, high. Here I go, no longer holding this back "Hello, you are beautiful, and you glow. I know how I sound, I sound like a quack. But please, one kiss, under the mistletoe."
Today I closed the paperback the final chapter read It's ending caught me by surprise the hero was found dead Throughout the book he fought and won a master spy they say But fate would have a different path for him that summer day An outdoor bar in Shepherd's Square a woman he did meet Her name was Juliana and her kisses were so sweet She lured him to her house that day his enemies in wait His loneliness got in the way they shot him by the gate A tragic end to this man's life he served his country well His loneliness... achilles heel demise..a woman's spell Copyright © 2012 Jon Arno
Cold engulfed her flesh when she lastly reached this old house forsaken; lilac scent has awakened at yesterday's ghost's haven
Short gasps of air whirl through a burning throat, still her legs defy the exhaustion in desperation. Behind her trail phantoms of memories afloat upon a sea of desertion. Beneath a canopy of constellation she finds herself lost in time. The forest unfolds before her like a revelation. An apocalyptic bell sounds one chime. It won't be long before a mistake is irreversible. Every turn is just another minute to live. The last road taken proves an ironic circle. Sinking between the waves that created her, rests the moonlight fugitive.
I'm sure this has happened to most of you You come up with a brilliant thought Before getting a chance to write it down It vanishes just like a shot! You try and try so hard to remember Could it be some great new invention? Your mind's travelled south for the winter And has no capacity for retention You start to sweat and feel the panic Was it a marvellous new discovery? Was it going to change the way we live? The odds are slim for recovery You consider the electric shock treatment Sticking your finger in a socket Reconsidered 'cause your hands were wet Jammed 'em back into your pocket So you resign yourself and figure it's gone Then back it pops into your brain What you were trying so hard to remember Was your Mom and Pop's last name! ©Jack Ellison 2012
He stood there in the streetlight looking somber, I didn't know whether to trust him or to run; his eerie shadow stretched long on the pavement I saw beneath his duster the glint of a gun. The night air held a chill upon the breeze, the blood within my veins came close to jell; but warmth began to flow as his lips parted and as he spoke I fell under his spell. He told me he was a wanted man out west, close to Pima County he was framed. He said, "I shot a man in self defense, but gunned him down in cold blood, the sheriff claimed." "Can you find it in your heart to help me out, Mam? I need a place to stay to hide away, I promise you I'll hit the road tomorrow before the sunrise greets another day." I looked into his whiskered face and stuttered, "Just so happens there's a place out back, at the edge of the field behind my house. It's nothing but a tidy little shack." He said, "That be fine, Mam, thank you kindly." He jumped in back of my old Ford pickup truck. I dropped him off at the shack and headed home but I hollered back at him and wished him luck. Because I figured that's the last time I'd see him and I was right because no sign of him by dawn; not a ruffled sheet left of his presence, like a dream he was there and now was gone. Fifteen years had passed before I knew it since the whiskered stranger in the night, I wondered if he might've been a phantom and if that sheriff shot him in his last gunfight. August 7, 2013 Copyright © 2013 H. L. Smith
As I go by the bamboo grass Its leaves start to sway and rustle As though the wind were there to pass From the thrust of guardian angel
Nestled among the trees in a primitive campsite, A cub scout and his mother were on their third camp-out. The tent was pitched; double foil wrapped food was cooked just right. The young campfire cook gave his skills a great workout. In the past they had stayed there several days at a time. Driving through the forest just the mom and her young boy. Thinking about those days brings back memories sublime. It was a lot of work, but brought them so much joy. Nights were spent listening to the serenading bullfrog. At dawn, she photographed wildlife while he made bird-calls. One morning when they came around the bend in the fog, A long-necked majestic doe stood tall and enthralled. The angle was such that she could not get a good shot. So, she handed him her Cannon; he aimed, then, clicked. It would be days prior to seeing the picture he got. She and her son took pleasure in the woodlands frolicked. In the hours of darkness they finished playing cards. Their lantern was glowing; it was time to go to sleep. Outside there was a whirring they could not disregard. The mother turned out the light; whispered, "Don't make a peep!" Her heart was pounding faster and her eyes opened wide. She was afraid to move, but tried her best to be brave. She unzipped the tent slowly and took a look outside. The unlikely sight she saw gave her heart a shock wave. Up in the sky was a circle of lights… humongous! The outer ones were orange and the inner ones flashed white. The sound was so loud that soon the boy became anxious. With a quiet hush she said, "We're going to be alright." All she could think about was fear and their abduction. Teenage daughters, not camping, needed her to survive. She was so terrified her mind could hardly function. There was nothing she could do to get out of there alive. Would sharp-witted life forms from outer space understand? She had no choice but try; inside she shed silent tears. Begging aloud to the alien craft, words unplanned. Daughters, with no one to tend them would struggle for years. When she explained their situation, the noise ceased quickly. She peeked outside again to see only stars in the sky. He, now a man, was not allowed to look out…hazy. She thanks God for the night the aliens went bye-bye. © October 8, 2011 Dane Smith-Johnsen P.S. Years later, she saw the same craft in NASA space photos listed as something not seen before…unidentified! When she went to show her husband, the picture had "disappeared!"
"Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop" Searching fulfillment in each written sentence On route to becoming a great moral being Voids of feeling should start with repentance Relaying the outcomes to all that I've seen I stumble and rise as I journey forward When obstacles bring me to stubbing my toe I persevere ever through each raging torrent And question the norms of the status quo I climb as I bang my head against walls Halting progression to sky phases next I carry on further the burden to fall Blinded in ventures through mazes perplexed So why do I torture myself it may seem Continually beating my way to the top The fight for the cause does justify means The shifting of balance feels best when I stop
I trek the corridor of an easy path Not because I am lazy or leery. Just because I want no lingering wrath, I searched for meaning of life's query. Death has its end or a new beginning. Life has so much joy for you to give. Each New Year is another inning. To be played with the spirit to live. We spend so much time wondering. What will be received at our end? That time we end up blundering. That so much more we could send. I have settled that what I have learned. Will be carried onward in some way, Probably better than what I have yearned. That each life of past, will continue an array. I cannot with any doubt, feel there is a beyond. The road less traveled is not easy or hard you see. Just spreads out in different lanes that correspond. To everyone's path they must follow or foresee. These trials I have passed on my thoroughfare. My faults, tribulations, delights, my own making, My spirit and soul has always been duly aware. I regret much, but resist spending my end quaking. Each sin that has passed through me I put to rest. I struggle not to repeat any again, to my best. I still ponder much and still continue my quest. Though I shall not let my living be suppressed. written for Sponsor Catie Lindsey Contest Name The Road Less Traveled
Why would I wanna be lemon or lime? When I could be lemon marang It might feel good in my haven sublime But there's more left to do than just hang The bumps and wrinkles of my skin Reminds of some latter acne stage But flavored juices from within Show wisdomed hours on each turning page Through leaves way up in the shady tree The sun so often leaves me tanned With hunger pains you came and picked me Braving brush with wavering hand Nothing beats the view from up top So high, it shows your dedication Barked with lines that time can't stop For me a win-win situation Convert me into something sweet Or you could turn on your crusade To masquerade with sourpuss treats And call yourself the lemon aide No, leave me hanging high and dry With shriveled smiles before I fall I choose to remain here in the sky Untouched till topsoil sprouts reform Who's ever heard of a sour brigade? That laughs and likes to play the fool All gay and taunting the days away The greatest trick I'll ever pull
In the middle of the universe, I stand Wondering at where does it all start, where does it all end Science keeps coming up with its facts Religion has its own proof, which it shows with tact There, in the middle of it all, I stand and look at it all It is believed that its matter does make up my soul It is made of beauty, of stars taking birth, of planets dying It is beauty, beauty as does seem to be the sun, setting or rising! It is mystery as do seem the words of a Chinese poem To a child coming from the land singing the British anthem It is mystery as would seem the life of a seer of spirituality To the one who does thrive in many a one mundane activity It is magic It is mystic It is our essence Yet, we understand not its cadence In the middle of the universe, I yearn for the maker of it all Surely, He does be, surely, He would hear my call I am sure He is made of goodness I am sure He fills up our consciousness Unimaginable universe, Seeing you now, I would never have guessed your content be so diverse Life does thrive in you in all sorts of forms Yet, I see not Him who can claim to be the ruler of all these kingdoms So I choose not to keep standing in the middle of the universe I choose to walk and probe, to love it, so that with Him, indirectly I do converse Yes, I would love this thing of mystery While going about with my quest, hoping someday, He shall be revealed in all clarity!
Did you know? Life comes at you like a sword Slashing, Crashing, Thrashing, Slice Heads t'wards you without a word.
Under morning sky. Gentle breeze waft against spring leaves. Adding to bird songs. The ear interprets mysteries.
HALLUCINATION In the moonlit salty water I saw your face placidly suave Can I kiss the beautiful face drawing the water in my hands? Breeze caressed the transparency blurring into small waves Oh! It dissolved to colourless drops vaporizing to elements Sometimes, in the dusk, you dance with clouds Yonder amongst the rainbow and evening stars glitter Just begins to cast my eyes, enticing, the clouds enshrouds Had I wings to soar high and around you flutter! And amongst the woods before winter fall with smile sheen Yellow leaves hide 'cause sunbeams burn butter skin to pall Embarrassing me to seek and embrace you with heart keen Oh! Leaving only mounts of snow, yellow leaves rhythmically fall Tender hands fondle; I feel the lavender petals fall In your chat with me your passions gush And just be in union with a kiss I feel a haul Feeble hard I struggle to hug and away you rush!? In lonely night I hear your melodious song Have a glance on the singer! Eagerly I roam Only foggy hills and murmuring of leaves I see all night long Still yonder the other sides of the river the melody hum You are a non-existing existence Sun and moon are meaningless sans you Sans you my existence is non-existence No dawn and dusk sans you ASOKUMAR.K.A
I, Oracle tool of eternal, placid in mental state. High-intellect mortal, dropping parables to educate. Special emotional properties, concepts of four elements. Fire; earth; wind; water, mind on matter transcendents. Fire akin to blood, therein lies real passion. Air present in yellow bile, links of wrathful emotion. Water manifest in phlegm, too much produce laziness. Earth found in black bile, associates of sadness. Telepathic capabilities, enhancement of perception. Supernatural abilities, sheer mind submission. Mixed cause and effect, experimental backward mask. Image shown to subject, tenth of a second the task. First picture displayed, ultrasensory perception. Second subliminal image, recalling jiffy forgotten. Utilize the enhanced, nothing but natural. Subconscious skill possessed, to absorb more subtle signal. Desire overriding reason, inner darkness of humanity. Nature and nurture function, sexually obsessed mentality. Attempts to explain marvels, visible through naked eyes. Ubiquitous superpower, shattering inquiring minds. Head and facial movements, most info' effective. Eminent emotions expressed, all but instinctive. Familial body language, few employ it consciously. Nonverbal communication, many exercise it subconsciously.
Inquiring minds need to know why some things make no sense. Like why the grass is greener on the other side of the fence? And why is it when we're shopping, looking for Pants to wear, even though we buy just one, they always come in pairs? There's simply no rhyme or reason, no wisdom, clues, or tips, that explain why shipments are sent by Cars, and cargo is sent by Ships. Another puzzling question that puts understanding on the spot, is why we park on driveways, and drive on parking lots? And what about this Teflon, a modern miracle of Man. If nothing sticks to Teflon, how'd they stick it to the pan? These are just some questions that keeps us puzzled so. And we'll keep searching for the answers, because inquiring minds need to know.
DEDICATED TO A WOMAN OF GOLD: (THAT WOULD BE YOU MANDY, SILLY GIRL!) MANDY, I CALL THE LADY CANDY read the woman's words and just take a peek you'll be looking at the thoughts of a lady unique whether she's scribing about sorrow or writing about grins when you peruse her page is when your amazement begins she'll make an amethyst colored sky from an umbrella of gray her words have even taught this sinner how to pray each morning I look to see what godliness has created and my happiness and hope is never abated she's lifted my spirits and for no cost or fee and that's a lot for a sorrowful soul such as me so if it's a sky of colors shaved from a rainbow you seek you need only search out the words of a lady unique TO MANDY, FOR A SHIMMERING GOLDEN GIRL FROM A TARNISHED MAN © 2012......copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee~ written with respect and gratitude!
Arched as a Gothic Temples dome, Arched as the wood of Cupid's bow, Arched as the back of Atlas bent, The rainbow stretched from end to end. Full of goodness, God and Goddess, Each new dew-drenched droplet wreathing, The checkered hills and bulwark cliffs Where mans myth and mystery sleep. No pot of gold, or leprechaun, Could transform splendor to compare, To the crystalline colored pallet Which lay languid in morning's air. Full of glory to the highest, Each bright prism particle paired, With all creation's precious hues Dancing, dreamily in the air.
I don't know if I'm alone in this everlasting Hell. I can't be the only one who has grown spending eternity in a mental cell? In memory's furthest horizon my dreams were haunted by terrors that now shadow day's sun. Repulsive images from nothing created. Yet I have no fear of night. Although chaos and exhaustion abound, and mercy is nowhere in sight, adaptation demands to stand ground. If your life is split when the sunlight fades, your mind will easily permit 'insanity' to be dealt in spades. When the dawn awakens my slumber, I'm hesitant to believe what my senses experience are not part of nightmare's remnant.
Homosapiens therein a state of sleep; To truly rouse forth thereafter thier deaths? Shall Sheperd say... He trusts they'd well sleep? Life, a dream? They'll fathom post final breaths.
I am the confidant of many, a healer of weary souls, they come to me with questions, and tales of their ample woes. I advise and console their broken, and bleeding hearts, for I know how it feels, to be ripped and utterly torn apart. What can one so humble as I; I often conclude with query short and sweet; do for a true master-poet; who muses others as he speak?
Utter chaos yet so calm shaky palm thought lost.
Popular Anonymity A Lingering crowd doubts you have the courage You are hung out to dry with insults from strangers Imploring you to jump Apoplexy, apathy, and will to live design you Standing on the building edge Perhaps the comforts of home will help When you slip and grab a brick With nervous fingers Butter is sent up, applied by unknown loved ones Giving permission from on high for you to drop Hopes die. Friends talk to you in slow motion Mother promises to bake a cake if you survive Police pretend to know you on the sharp edge of your demise For your enjoyment… Their pleasure...The crowd applauds You've become the center of the nightly news and nothingness What a surprise! Centered and served up as a sound bite (Did you catch the name?)
Demons of old to toil and tither, Moil of mine to wine and hemal, Of thee comes brood and beast, Whence a nite of tongues and chattering teeth. Forth slips shimmers of golden rims and grims which greet, Sips from glorious goblets enchant fabolous feast, Jests, knaves, et alii figures beguile and bid, 'Twas de hour for not more frivolous guile and fickleness. Out of oubliette a glim of light so lithe, Moon of mist now found by life and gift, For inside one's hide was sight of rimous rig, Minions of humour bridle toward obverse Omid, Womb of prime reveal that which is vile and uncouth, Smile upon me thy glorious chime of pride and proof, Mind of mine shine on what is trial and new, Liberty of every, carry me to your shrine of truth.
Dressed in sex Dripping night Arched shadows Licking light Smeared silence Succulent sighs Framed flesh Lingerie lies
I write this sitting in the kitchen sink All my friends have left me behind. I know not what I want or what I think I have a dark and empty mind. I fled to the outskirts of sanity And I found I was not alone. For I'm wont to be just a vanity On the marbled desert we roam How can one be sane in an insane world? It's much easier than you think. Just remember that we can all be pearls Our ever-changing world is pink. So now I think this predicament is Not as bizarre as it may seem. And now I must wish you a good night miss. Safe travels in this land of dreams.
Etched upon my mind A masterpiece has begun A first draft of a portrait Upon its wall has sprung. Features chiseled so fine By the masterful hands Of an unseen artist's sight Into a world only he comprehends. Made aware to my puzzled eyes Unable to see nothing else, For it all disappeared, as if buried alive And a new vision has printed itself. As he continues his work Not able to stop until finished Its life has crept into my world My heart, by its warmth, ravished. By CarolineCecile Copyright © 04.19.10
The name Christ signifies Messias The Great Prophet High Priest and King of the New Law anointed as a man with the fullness of divine power
Jesus Christ is one in 3 Divine Persons God the Father God the Son and God the Holy Spirit (Ghost) 11282011
The second part of the complete bible It contains the specifically Christian Texts Namely the Gospels, the Acts of the apostles Fourteen letter written by Paul, Seven Catholic letters and Revelation 11302011
ThE UnKnOwN Loneliness, sadness, bitterness and sweet Caring, kindness, longing your gentle touch Wondering when we will possibly meet My prince charming, my King, so on and such Time is of the essence, hurry make a fuss Your presence seems unfamiliar, yet so lush Rescue me now, save me, don't be afraid Quickly now, no time to serenade Don't scurry away when our love is fresh We would make such a wonderful mesh As I lay before I put me to sleep I contemplate on the path that I lead Waterfalls and tear drops begin to seep I gaze upon my window and stare deep Into the rays of the shimmering light Suddenly a diamond appears into the night...
It's easy to write a dark saga of midnight and wolfbain and you It follows to throw in a campfire in the winter, the cold and we two Forsaken this landscape I'm painting twisted like limbs of the trees, Haunted ,the mansion is waiting the trembling begins in our knees, Tell us to head for the highway, tell us to hitch hike to town, Ah, but we will have it my way, I'm writing this horror all down. I'm sending you straight to the castle, You're knocking right now on the door It's answered by some lowly vassal who says we may call him Igor. He pulls us in out of the weather, he lurches away to the right, we huddle for safety together, afraid of what may come in sight. Insanely the laughter surrounds us, but you're getting tired of the game, I shriek that the vampire has found us, but you knock him down with your cane. "Now stop this and write our vacation! Away to that new Pirate Bay. Get us out of this bad situation, or I'll have the Count make you stay." So I pencil plans for Orlando, while erasing the fiend and the slave, Why must you go so Commando?.......... (Watch your step over Dracula's grave.)
I see two lips screaming for me. Attentatively, I do.
There is a twinkle in the Sun, tells me I am not too far from done. Still, I reach for the sky, like a tree reaches for light.
Strange that you should ask about it For I, since I left the contentment of my ignorance It was the flowers that made me flit Everywhere and drunk with their sweet fragrance An urge in me answered their beauty What did I know of defined destinations then? First I followed my shadow, and the cruelty Of it I rinsed with every slake of rebounding thirst What springs were these in the heart From deep well of flesh the water came and stream For me a path? O suddenly sense start Me walking towards a meaning, towards this dream I could not see, but always in me skips Reasons like horizons, no ship sailing can yet attain And as I went each way the honey drips Matters not in sky, or sea, grassy or scraggy terrain Some say it was life dripping there. O, I Just kept going. This journey pulled me, so as if born For it, born to flower, fruit, so then to die Born to come to dusk after the senselessness of morn Born to understand there is naught for me To understand, I should have stayed wombed in clouds For all my dust is such a pause in eternity And now the wait at briny sea's edge in foam of shrouds Because I came to sense. Gone all flowers All gone, except the journey back again. A new design Of old me, I hear the drip of dripping hours And still I cannot tell all, what is across the misty line?
A soft blowing breeze lifted her sun bleached hair The sea crashes on the jagged rocks below her perch Her eyes, the gray shade of a distant floating cloud She turns on bare feet and cautiously moves away A seagull sails in the updraft at the cliff's edge The small trail snakes upward to a winter meadow Her mind wanders as she knowingly climbs the path She pictures the smiling eyes of the Moon Goddess A rebirth of the God will come with winter winds The snowy grass baths her feet as she tops the cliff Her hands brush high weeds as she returns to the hut She enters by sliding behind a thick tanned hide A fire burns within the comfortable warm home The flames lick a clay caldron simmering sweet scents Her hand lifting a burning stick at fire's edge She moves toward the small altar with lighted wand A shell of ground incense and two candles are lighted The cup of spring water and fresh herbs are offered Her soft knees bend as she kneels before the altar She calls the Goddess and God to her safe circle Oh, Goddess and God Please open my eyes To the secret magic Of Nature © Copyrights G. Jones 2008
I was trudging with deep thirst amid scorching sand dunes, when suddenly the desert wind hurled me against an ancient tomb; and as the swivel door swiftly opened, my fear increased. What was this mysterious, mystic place... beneath one of the Great Pyramids embellished by massive sphinxes? Why did the Egyptians believe in after-life? Scary mummies in long, beautiful hand-painted sarcophaguses appeared, and the foul smell induced more dread than an imminent vomit...I screamed! And into that labyrinth of adorned walls, I couldn't find an exit...painted faces and sacrificial eyes hunted me all the while... was I going to be their next victim? I heard chariots wheels screech... they were coming for me, I panicked, a pang pierced my chest encroached by hands... and glancing at those mystical frescoes, I fled! And running faster than a tiger, trying to catch my heavy breath, I collapsed into the coldest corner crying out,"God, please help me!".... No human voice echoed but mine in the hallways of the Pyramid; how would I have been been able to combat anxiety, fear or even death? I found myself by the tomb of Tutankhamun's, he didn't seem dead, but vividly alive and well... and he kindly smiled, handing me his scarabe necklace... saying, "Take it and end the curse of the robbers!" Why didn't he punish me for disturbing his peace? Sudden death could have been experienced by me! What ever happened to the Anubis guarding his tomb and treasury? Did the Pharaoh send it away to warn me?
What did my eerily observant mirror so boldly reveal to me this morning as I so cautiously gazed into its soul? It quipped "Hey lummox,might as well limp back to bed, the eyes of the world will mistake you for an over-sized troll." Many times it speaks this extremely critical evaluation of me.So often, in fact, I can no longer ignore. I have been rather proficient at turning a deaf ear to its snide, painful remarks, but now it's cutting me to the core. It willingly continues " You better stop trying to appease the god of the gut. Forget about bacon and eggs, cookies and cakes, candies and nuts. And yes, include on the list, donuts and pastries, ice cream and chocolate, even Fritos and chips. Crisco would be jealous of you, you tub o' lard. You've surrendered to the demon of gluttony for so long now, I mean, c'mon, get a grip. And let's be real here, this farce of an exercise routine you endear yourself to is all mirrors and smoke. How many calories do you think you burn off simply looking, be it so desperately, for your precious remote? You might even want to drag your behemoth butt off the couch while watchin' the tube and do some crunches. Instead of waiting till the commercial break to waddle out to the kitchen to refill your beloved munchies. Let's see, there's tennis, running, swimming, biking, even just walking..... exercise programs galore. But nooooo, for you that means change doesn't it? It's not worth it even though you barely fit through the door." But as there are two sides to every story, so too is there another mirror even more significant than the first. It happens to be God's "love letter" that reflects honestly and with prevailing irony.It captivates us with mention of real hunger and thirst. It also talks of changes we need to make if we don't want life to "take it's toll". Not so much on our fleeting flesh as on our eternal soul. These words, like a soothing salve, are universal.Oh yes, they are ours for the taking. And they can buoy us and comfort us on those many days when that "other mirror" we feel like breaking.
The countless flights of noisy seagulls seem like my days once idled away, sitting by the ocean appeasing the relentless loneliness of my blues... beyond that horizon, so traveled by ships, another sunset faded away. Being brought here by destiny's hasteness, I am unable to return to my adored land... hinderd by unknown forces more devastating than summer's violent storms and hurricanes; even the gentlest breeze can erase those memories still imprinted into the smooth sand. Springs have been short and winters last much longer, and only the red Lighthouse surrenders to darkness; the gelid winds of the North batter the snow-decorated docks making the waves rise higher; this calm harbor resembles a Norvegian fiord from where the Vikings left in small vessels. Serenity is deeply felt, but not readily greeted as in other milder seasons, and I can endure the harshness of any winter day with this heavy coat... the cold and hungry beggar could use it and keep herself warm and sleep peacefully at night; where's she? I've been sitting by the ocean, she hasn't come to melt away my frozen tears!
It was there mysteriously hanging, as He shaped it in a perfect form as other planets... the Romans called it Luna, and what a revered goddess was she! Superstious souls still fear it, I stare at it with reverence! Even before we were created, that moon, which illuminated our dark Earth, was believed to have mystical powers... causing high tides and frightening all voyagers. Luna, as magnificent as you are on a clear night, by morning your glory will completely vanish, and you will return with the shadows and by that bright glow, we shouldn't be afraid but make a vivid wish. Even before we were created, those moonbeams softly caressed the lonely oceans... when no human beings were sighted; and she, the goddess Luna, ruled over eerie darkness.
I stood above the bottomless hole A little way from the brim And saw its waters, menacing, cold Blue too when sun was dim Away behind the Orange Grove church Where rocks give way to swamp A power silent at me did lurch My sweating hands very cramp I struggled to look away from it The water's blue seduction The presence of an awesome spirit Pulling me for destruction My father warned me I should not go Let curiosity dry But stories I heard tugged at me so Father's wish I did defy For I am Maroon too like them all Like Reddicas who dived in Left in spring and stayed until the fall Grand uncle forgive my sin For the lore told of you like sweet tropes Each myth your legend more swell Great seer, I bring my heart and its hopes To learn the place where you dwell But all I saw was picture of sky And a blue malignant eye A silence where no winds ever sigh And sudden awe - I could die They said I should hear the sea's deep call Or the earth's belly yearning Feel, but all there was my fear to fall And blue hole without meaning
democracy may look to some, to seem a hell of a way to run a government can two parties be on the same team? that it works at all is a wonderment what rancor could be made of this? this would pass for a party plank be it elephant's or a donkey's to kiss it's squeaky wheels we have to thank we engage in rhetoric harsh to prove our point is the truth or so we say, so take your firm stance, and move! be it right or left, the other way we're gonna block your filly buster! horse tradin' is 'fer checkin' teeth uncompromisin' deals pass 'fer muster some party's purpose is to deceive our founding fathers, gentlemen all taught that with good speaking skills our House divided can not fall? it's Senate's turn to pass some bills our leaders are honest ones, with ability vision for the nations future direction turn this ship with statesmen's civility to please citizenry's best cross section yet with serious tone of impending disaster if esteemed colleagues should get their say they speak to press with sound bites faster to sway opinion polls, today's power play the whole process makes the thoughtful wonder about the ability of political men to work for their point to prove, and pull asunder national harmony, as we all go berserk democracy may look to some, to seem a hell of a way to run a government two parties can be on the same team, as compromise doesn't breed discontent to know political relations are symbiotic the nature of democracy is a bit chaotic © Goode Guy 2011-06-24 dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Black canvas Curved space Sterling stars Evolved grace Painted planets Yellow sun White noise Prodigal son Bleeding brushes Dripping plight Solemn strokes Sequestered light Turgid sky Acid rain Burning questions Dangling reigns Charcoal commandments Acrylic themes Smeared signature Scientific schemes
Mitochondrial Eve spinning the moon without interruption or supervision. Stars sail across the sky without time as she is both mother and midwife. Primordial Eve in infinite density. Infinitesimally small, a ball of power a witness to it all, as all abilities to predict the future break down. She was there with the molten soup; the black iron core glowing blood red. The syrupy mixture of elements spirit, earth, fire, wind, and water. Kharithana exhaled into existence into Lucy our African humanity. Silently witnessing the dawn of spring the azalea blossoms, the buzzing insects. Everything comes alive when Kharithana opens her eyes at sunrise to capture that moment when the first golden ray caps the mountain range and forms a lining. Thus when Kharithana yawns, stretches out her arms, like the big bang my heart becomes a beating drum, synapses snap and my quantum capillaries rediscover the meaning of life.
the big bang I'm told was the perfect place for the universe to begin to save its face and blast away false fascias and chaos to show to its master, who was the boss yet all flew apart in accelerated directions and things went awry in a beautious way tangentally curving in arced circumspection galaxies spewed forth to a timeless decay then life set about to see our sun winking later sapiens emerged and soon began thinking very deep thoughts, as deep as they'd muster of quarks, black holes and far-off star clusters in passing, I was able to conscript serendipity from times distant of our space-time continuum to pull an idea from that ancient antiquity that others might be in this universal aquarium in some cosmic queue, as thinking matters stew in their large heads, if they even have some they wonder about us, who we are, what we do whether we're intelligent or merely pond scum now when i sit in some colossal traffic jam irritated and annoyed at the world, I am reminded of that other, somewhere out there, and I smile a bit and think of their welfare © Goode Guy 2011-12-01 Better pull over before it overheats... or "We're all in this, alone" - Lily Tomlin
like two car hubcaps shinin' 'n' moonin' like helixed necks of neckin' swans swoonin' like a quiet tide-pool tranquilly poolin' like Gouramis kissin' each other schoolin' like two teenagers in a car backseat young gendered duet, together complete saunter hand-in-hand down some Paris street or cornered in a cafe, quietly discreet like as in liking, love as in smitten like lips pressed together, gently are bitten like wantin' what's wanton, 'n' get in to gettin' like love sonnet rhymes, charmingly written like you and me and the world at our feet if we were two too, together, a love seat gazing dreamily into each other's mystique impatiently craving that enticing physique like you like me, like I like you too as lovely, as ardent, our passionate roux like words softly clicking, tongued in anew to say with eyes gazing, knowing, I love you © Goode Guy 2011-12-27
Love is not the joining of the hearts. Nor the meeting of the eyes. It has no breath or width, or height or depth or size. Love is not measured by gold, or in the number of things we do. Nor is it measured by who we know, or friends whether many or few. Its unknown how love comes to be. It can't be bought, traded, or sold. Its a strange thing that can't be seen, always new and never old. Love's not born out of passion, by people late at night. Its not created through desires, nor delivered by Moons golden light. Its not found in breathtaking bodies, or the beauty of the skin. Love is real yet can't be seen, something felt just like the Wind.
What is the attraction with the lake? Why are we drawn to its side? Is there something mysterious about it? Is there something it's trying to hide? Does it hold the deep dark secret Of a lady in a flowing white gown? Was she the victim of some evil doing? Did she unceremoniously drown? This is how the old story goes You can believe it or call it poppycock A jealous lover tied her feet to a boulder Threw her off the end of the dock Now every evening at sundown As a mist starts to rise from the water The shadowy figure of a woman appears The image of somebody's daughter The tortured spirit of the "Lady of the Lake" With her mournful cry for release Forever to rise from the lake at sundown Nevermore to rest in peace!
ON THE CLIFFS Flung over the rim of the earth's blue, In far distant cliff-lands, Cling wild flowers of occult hue Never plucked by human hands - Each perfumed in bouquets exotic Which pervade the breeze With mystery hypnotic - Each understood only by the bees. Pick these blooms if you will But if you touch even one Their hues and perfumes will spill : Their magic mystery will be gone.
God mentions in the last days there will be an increase of knowledge. And, yes, we certainly do have many young people heading to college. But it really goes alot deeper than that, I mean, we now have the ability to clone. So it's kinda scary when we look around and wonder if it's a "copy" or one of God's own. As we look back over the last hundred years, the period we refer to as the "industrial age." We find; autos,jet planes,TVs,fax machines,computers. all things considered, can we really turn another page? Jesus told of some other things to take note of --- signs that we really should be looking for. wars and rumors thereof,earthquakes, hunger, even pestilence(disease) will soar. In fact, He even went as far as to say that man will be perplexed by the tossing of the sea. Hurricanes,cyclones,typhoons.... almost too many to count.... if we have eyes, let us see. He also said that it will be like a woman in delivery--- having labor pains. Which indicates an increase in frequency and intensity, yes.... too tough to tame. One can't help but notice that is exactly what we are experiencing today. Wars, terrorism, continual earthquakes,erupting volcanoes, droughts, floods, disease galore... that's just God's way of warning us that these truly are the final days in our history. And it won't be long now until true believers see Him in all His glory. Now I have finally come to the end of my poem and I hope I've helped with "connecting the dots." Judgement day is fast approaching but remember He would certainly rather have us be ready than not.
When you were a young child, did you ever play "connect the dots"? And all the while you were doing it, you'd wonder what it was and what it was not. Back then it was to satisfy boredom when, on a rainy day, you needed somethin' to do. Or maybe you couldn't go out and play with your friends because the flu had you. Many believe,including myself, that "connect the dots" takes on a new meaning today. It has a great deal to do with this "snake" who is bent on leading us astray. It seems as if he is running out of time, so he is really focused on the task at hand. The one thing he wants more than anything else is to capture and forever bind the souls of man. But for those very souls, God had another plan. Yes, His only Son gave His very life for us. And oh the peace and joy that can forever be ours if, in Him, we place our trust. We know for sure that the God of the Bible is real, just witnessing creation alone. But not stopping there, the hundreds of prophecies fulfilled further prove Him out, He so much wants to be known. Oh yes, one may say "But I can't reach out and touch Him...... if I dare." And I say "True,but neither can you touch the wind, but you know it's there." And it is this living Creator God that tells us in His Word that He has a time table. When the world, as we know it, will cease to exist and He is the only one able To determine exactly when that will be. But He gave us glimpses into the future for all to see. For He wants none to be banished to hell..... instead to be ready as He climaxes history. One thing that He mentions in His love letter is that His beloved Israel would again become a nation. And that in our final years here,the Jews, to this original home,would complete a vast migration. So as we "connect the dots," we find that indeed Israel did become a nation in 1948. And ever since that time, God's chosen ones did return there and they endear themselves to that date.
Leaving the room, we had stolen a car for speed One, to not ever be traced. We hit the highway after an hour of driving And felt we had won a race. Releasing a gasp, she looked at me and she spoke Saying, once, she had loved that man. Now, in the light of the true way he feels and threat he made She is happy, with me, that she ran. We stopped at a store for a video camera and tape Then stopped at a remote location I taped her entire story, the facts and the dates Her husband's taking a long vacation. With the tape in our hands, we drove to a city Stopping at the first TV station We dropped off the tape and left there real soon Leaving his fate to the entire nation. With his fate now sealed and our destiny now set We drove to get the nearest plane Two tickets to paradise are what we bought next Around here, you will never see us again. We found each other again for the strangest of reason But, we both are thankful for the fate. We will never misuse, or mistrust, or deceive one another For our love will never again wait.
I'm just a stranger here the neighbors smiling at me from ear to ear I've been gone for far too long even though it's only the first year There are sparrows walking this ground a scarecrow stand forgotten and on the porch a dead coon hound This is a nexus, a rip in my common space I'm standing amidst this crowd but I'm no where to be found And raindrops are falling beneath my feet A mother losing her way hangs up her bedroom sheet I want to run away from this melancholy shame but there are so many faces here forcing us to meet The sharper the knife the duller the man My daddy had once said this but how was I to understand that a man aint just a body walking around a town and that if a life he takes then he's to be judged by the land There is blood on the highway, yet no body to be seen all these empty ghosts here must make it Halloween but I'm just another puppet opening up a closet just to see the backyard to find out what it might mean
Empty spaces need filling or protecting, Scorched earth or pressing void, depending. Patterned approach to reactive needs impending, A vicious strike to chaotic deeds extending. All things in balance, as and when. All things in turn, now and then. All things in time, here and now. All things in mind, why and how. Seen through the mind of a child, the truth often known. Play on the field of a mind, the seed always sown. Hear through the tears of a storm, the bell often tolls. Ride on a Wave of the Dawn, the sound always rolls. I am all, an Element in flow. I am tall, a target to know. I am toil, a task to deal. I am that, the truth to reveal.
She told me to meet her at a quarter past ten By the old five and dime on Main She said it was important, I just couldn't wait To see that lovely face again. She was a beauty, you see, in college she was it; The girl who had it all and more. She could have had anyone in the school back then. I questioned, what was I for? We drifted apart shortly after graduation, you see. She traveled Europe. I, well I had no funds. So when she called me this night from out of the blue To her, her arms, I was ready to run. From out of the darkness, streetlight now on her face, Casting shadows and hiding her years, She was still radiant, still had the beauty of a rose Then she spoke and warned me of her fears. Her husband, a senator, was mad on her tracks For something she had overheard She immediately needed the safety of another I said, "come', before she said another word. It appears he had been taking some money on the side From an inscrutable lot of sorts If word got out, if it was leaked to the press He'd die or go down in the courts. I told her she was safe here, with me for the night. She said, she somehow knew she would be I set up the couch, the intended place of my sleep Then settled in and talked over tea.
Under cloak of a midnight sky, on Halloween, the moon was full. An eerie sight there caught my eye, I viewed his body being pulled. The dirt unearthed was moist and fresh, once the grave where he'd been placed; a man of forty, so I'd guessed, I could, just barely, see his face. When I moved in closer still, five tombstones soon surrounded me, and chanting in the night air filled, the prophesies of mystery. On this day, so prophesied, chanting of a thousand witches, would raise the dead from all the tombs, all the morgues, and crypts and ditches. At the stroke of twelve, or so, while stirring fast, strange witches brew, their voices filled the midnight hour, and chanted 'til the stroke of two. Potions, cauldrons, signs of death, raised my hair, as I held my breath. "Ravens, Banshees, owls and trolls, raise the bones of forty souls." Witches moved to form an arc, and in the center placed the man, then dripped the blood of forty larks, that severed both his lifeless hands. When the chanting nearly ceased, his hands began to fly like bats, and to the air were doves released, soon followed by a hundred cats. Beyond fear, I was a wreck, I told my feet to pick up steam, but one hand grabbed me 'round the neck, on this, the darkest, Halloween. So, next time, as you walk alone, in the dark, on a moonlit night, remember the rest of his bones, are out there to fill you with fright. The witches, "sign of the five," are points of a star bringing death, at this moment you're still alive, while I am still catching my breath. Each Halloween, at midnight, his body still roams, that's no joke. His hands are still able to fly, and next time they'll fly at your throat.
I have beautiful eyes, the eyes of a dreamer; looking away as if taken by wander... Nothing goes by them that I don't notice; and everything but age can change their glance... Mellow eyes of dreamer, not much transformed by the tragedies unfolding in your peaceful path; rarely distracted, always focused on your strange selfishness that molds your wit... Distance is a mystery impossible to be explained or revealed, that one which keeps its shadows active, to hide what cannot be endured by fear; and without an optimistic insight, nothing is ever discerned... I have beautiful eyes, the eyes of a dreamer; with many visions of bliss, without the gloom and the agony of demise; an existence absent of pain, a life so despised by a clever achiever... Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Something's coming on the clouds rolling in across the hills thunder booms away, aloud run inside , I feel the chill . form a circle in the center hold your hands and say a prayer this is not a friend or mentor be afraid my dears, Beware! something's sad ,so sad and lonely seeking life and love and home cannot stop until there's only bloody scraps of hair and bone. cold so cold the fridgid specter weeps to share a human touch just becomes a dark collector of the life he wants so much hold your breath the earth is shaking passing by ,now passing on feel the pain ,its'heart is breaking, you can hear it scream and moan. "That was I ,he said behind me, I'm so glad you stayed outside, your warm heart was there to guide me, come and sit down by my side."
Dark ........wolves break the silence at your door, sleeping soundly you parade your dreams, whimpering and howling wolves implore, something stirring is not what it seems Turn your face more dearly to the night, wrap your eyes in fleece and downy black sinister the summons and the plight, wolves are here to finally bring you back, You who saw the dawning of the day, you who made the path to what we are wolves have come to take you on your way, back to reconnecting with a star. Glowing eyes regard you with regret, for you have failed the test, you grow less human with each day you set, primievil eyes have watched as you've regressed. The image that you once so surely shared, has gone and slid away across the sky, the wolves are here to say you never cared, The gift is taken back and you must fly. What have you done with years and months and hours, bright quiver filled to last a warriors' life.......... you drank the potion, bleeding now the powers, Uncut,the cord of childbirth,awaits the knife. Awaken to the end of all you kept, the wolves will take you back as far as home, the universe has faltered while you slept, Now you must take the blame ,for all you've sown.
Whispers in the blackened night Tell me of oncoming danger. I must take heed, be ready to fight The advances of the coming stranger. He comes with a mission, intent to kill; Take my life, all for his pleasure. Why would he do it, what is his will? I must prevent it, at all measure. I am but a victim, an innocent, here, Somehow I was sent a warning. My mind had spoken, must shed all my fears And be ready, I must be disarming. When predator comes, I'll be ready, I will. He won't get the drop on me. I won't be of the many that he had killed. For I'll be the last one he'll see.
Sand the hour down to moments Leave the dust beside the door Call the taxi rush to honor Shed emotions to the floor Skin the listen with decision Pull the wild trance to sing Cancel all your past appointments Leave behind the tears you bring Kiss the air as if your last Taste the rain and cut your hair Show the world your passion laughing Fleece the silver from your stare Blow the solid moon a blanket Find the locket that you lost Melt your calling, moon is falling Sell your pain at market cost Strip the skin to bone endeavors Lamp light all the stars above For tonight you're breaking moments For tonight you'll fall in love.
Through the distant window, sunshine teases me I am taunted by the heat, the morning rays However, here I sit, typing and working Counting the hours until the end of day But, then the sun descends, to slowly slumber Offering me its glow of orange and red Introducing me to his friend, the gentle moon That I say goodnight to, each night I'm in bed
We arose early the next day, the sun not yet up. Coffee? Yes, we both had a few. Without a word for each other, we got ourselves ready, Knew exactly what we had to do. The bank would not open until about nine o'clock She needed money, lots, real fast. I planned to help her get it and send her on her way, But plans change, they never last. We got to the bank, in fact we were right on time. He was there with his men in toe. We noticed the group. They noticed us as well. We knew that we just had to go. Quickly we ran through the crowded city streets With the men, giving us a chase. We ducked in an alley and then through a door, Had time to breathe, but no time to waste. Peering out the window of the clothing store, where we hid, Looking for those still on the run. The coast was clear; we bought new clothes and changed. Somewhere, I had to go for a gun. We managed to get to a motel in order to lay low, Compile thoughts, just think. We planned an escape to get ourselves out of town Until we, each, had our first drink. It all came back, like a force of nature upon us The memories, the lust we shared. However, we had quite more, a friendship as well. Lust, now? We just couldn't dare.
That evil bloom that blossomed from your lips, and grew to sprout ,I love you up my spine, those tendrils twining from your fingertips into the primal levels of my mind Your dark creative spirit reaching out, to pull me in to find my life renewed, the price to pay is worth the pain I find to gain a love with power so imbued my muse ,a lodestar shining through the night, has fallen to the earth in ashes lost now in your eyes I see a fearsome light and I succumb regardless of the cost.
Walking on the highway; Making sure it's clear. Looking up and down the road. There ain't nobody here. The night is getting darker There ain't no one around Until I walked a few more steps And then I heard a sound. Creeping up behind me Faster and faster it seemed Quickly then I turned around And into his face I beamed. (This is my very first poem written when I was six years old, 38 years ago. Hope you like)