Night turns into day,
Day turns into night.
I feel myself sway,
As I hold onto the light.
The night numbs me,
Frighteningly cold.
The days rush by
As I grow old.
I prefer the day
When the sun shines.
The night can be fey,
Dark streaking the pines.
Night turns into day.
Day turns into night.
Days become gray,
I have no more
strength to fight.
Please wash away my sorrow and pain.
Let it flow down the streets with the rain,
Dissolved in torrents of despair and sadness,
Joining others on its way past the madness.
The ocean may take it far away,
To places, we cannot even say,
Where no one recognizes its sting
Or knows the infliction it can bring.
Let the rain grow harder with its might,
Becoming hail on this fateful night.
I want to be free of all traces
Of unwanted feelings and faces.
My body grows cold from the rain.
I stand clean and free from the pain.
Shivers create a path down my spine
As I wait in the dark woods of pine.
I hold my head high to the wet spray.
It becomes a mist of blue and gray.
The faucet has turned off for the night,
Leaving me feeling clean and all right.
WHERE THE WIND BLOWS
The trees of the forest shiver and shake,
their long limbs trembling for the next quake.
Their bodies blaze a glaring white
with tears frozen from their new plight.
The world has become hard and cold.
My trembling body feels old.
Surrounded on four sides by white,
the bright glare has blinded my sight.
White is the color of my nightgown
as I stand and shiver with a frown.
A shadow emerges from the trees.
I hope it is not him, pretty please.
My body moves forward against my will.
I grab a thick tree and try to hold still.
I dig my feet into the packed snow,
but I must go where the wind might blow.
where is everyone? by travisanderson
What might the future hold?
Buildings of concrete and stone.
Travel by flying cars.
Trees of green foam.
Sunlight only a reflection.
Lighted sabers for protection.
A future hard to bear,
A future all too near.
The doors open.
The elevator waits.
Pick a floor.
Any floor.
It doesn’t matter which one.
It only descends.
Say goodbye.
A heart-shaped pool
to break my fall.
A cold wetness
to entomb me.
Depths to reach
beneath the surface.
I am falling.
No one to catch me.
But cold wetness.
Hello, moon.
Hello, night sky.
Hello, cold night air.
Goodbye, sunlight.
Goodbye, warmth.
Hello, moon.
THE WOUNDED
A blue sky can bring me to cheer.
Come inside, I am waiting here.
You can soften the load
of troubles, I am told.
Please brighten the cold, dreary day.
Take me to places far away.
Heal my wounded pride.
I need your fire at my side.
Tick tock tick tock
chimes the old clock.
Cold like a vault.
The dancers halt.
Evil is near.
The Dead are here.
Heads are rolling.
Let’s go bowling.
Midnight has come.
A game for none.
THE DEAD GAME
View of Mt. Fuji from Mt. Tenjo on a cloudy winter morning
THE FIGHT
Night into day.
Day into night.
I’m swept away
As I hold tight.
The night numbs me,
Making me cold.
The days rush by
As I grow old.
I prefer day
When the sun shines.
The night is fey,
Dark through the pines.
Night into day.
Day into night.
Days become grey,
No strength to fight.
SUSANNE LEIST 