AZRAEL… a dark poem

Graveyard, Cemetery, Death, Grave, Funeral, Tomb
https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2016/05/07/11/11/graveyard-1377300_960_720.jpg


Woe, to the eyes that saw me

In the lackluster, deluge

Of yesterday’s dream.

What sayeth thee?

Ye of night vision

And chilled, blackened stares?

Are thee an owl?

Perched high above

And watching for human pray?

Whilst the stars witness

You prowl within the mind

Wreaking havoc upon those

Unwitting, and unwilling souls.

You are the embodiment of screams.

Nightmare flees when

You infest the scene.

You are terror incarnate – Azrael.

SEASON OF REFLECTION… a poem

white teacup on plate surrounded pink roses
https://unsplash.com/@loverna

A honeycomb reflection

Bringing smiles

Bringing tears

Remembrance of a season

Passing days

Passing years

She sat on her veranda

With a teacup in her hand

Soaking in the fragrance

She once shared

She loved her man

Sunlight glistens beautifully

In that cup of liquid gold

The years, they had been good to her

Oh, the stories that she told

And for the lines and wrinkles

That creep across her face

Not a single would she trade

To be in any other place

DISFUNKTATION… a messed up poem

Nothing to see here folks… Move along!

blue and black abstract artwork

Photo by Rachel Lynette French on Unsplash

The dogma of this hyperbole

Leaves me wondering if it’s true

For ages the story has been told

But, then again, it’s new

“I’s” are crossed with dotted “T’s”

While “Z” runs down to “A”

The sun and moon switch places

As night becomes the day

Birds, they swim, while fish, they fly

So colorful this black and white

Snow is warm on a Summer’s day

Cough, cough… I say, gesundheit

GLADE OF ESTERHEIN… a poem

green grasses near trees
Image credit

Secrets held in the Glade of Esterhein

Protected by the Leprechaun King

Shadows cloaked from sunlight’s spies

Camouflaged from mortal beings

   

Custody for not man to hold

For centuries have they lain imbued

Spilling their sides, these pots of gold

A fever of platitude

   

Aye, to the wiser who walk this field

‘Tis better to turn one’s head

For if ye ever stumble and steal

Surely, you will end up dead

RESPITE… a poem

woman in brown hat above body of water during daytime


Cascading against a torrent

Of delusion and indecision

She stood, facing the sea.

From the cliff, high above,

She watched the crashing waves

And heard their Siren’s whisper in her ears.

“Join us!”

What brought her to this point?

What is she really here to do?

Swaying ever so slightly

Into the breeze

That assaulted her…

She turned to make her way

Back home.