I gaze from my window
and what do I see?
A storm growing in force
and coming for me.
Death comes to town.
It has its own name.
The one that I know
is called The Dead Game.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
I see men
In the cold
Coming closer to my home.
Snow swirls around them.
Feet crunch on ice.
Four of them.
Why are they here?
The window mists from my breath.
It fogs my view.
I must run.
I must hide.
A shadow appears.
Dark as the night.
An opening hole.
Of death and despair.
The grass trembles.
Flattened by its footsteps.
Beneath its terrible burden.
But it’s too late.
But I’m not.
I live in the shadow of the moon.
I have grown and sprouted much too soon.
I will try with all my might
To live in the bright sunlight.
I close my eyes but yet I’m still here.
Sitting on a branch next to a pear.
My petals are white as snow
Because of this fact I know.
I will never be awake at day
No matter how hard I wish and pray.
For I live in the shadow of the moon
And I’m slated to sing the nightly tune.
Carl Gustav Carus (1789-1869) – Faust’s Dream
If I had known it was going to be so hard,
Involving computer skills to the extreme,
I might have thought twice about it,
Thought twice about writing my book.
Writers must write each and every day.
We must promote our books daily.
We must post on our blogs each day.
But there’s not enough hours in a day.
How do other writers accomplish all this?
How do they leave free time for their families?
They must be expert jugglers.
Experts at writing, blogging, and juggling.
I must learn this dance.
This high-wire walk.
This never-ending battle.
I must learn to juggle.
I will do it.
I will do it all.
Just give me the chance.
Book two is waiting to be written.
I feel free.
I feel empowered.
I will survive.
James Patterson, eat my dust.