HOUSE OF ICE

yan-wo:
“ Ice Hotel, Quebec
”
A house of ice.
Sounds too nice?
It might be.
It’s next to the sea.
Ice statues populate the place.
Just don’t look into their face.
Tales of horror fall from their lips.
Better run away from all this.
THE DEAD...

 

A house of ice.

Sounds too nice?

It might be.

It’s next to the sea.

Ice statues populate the place.

Just don’t look into their face.

Tales of horror fall from their lips.

Better run away from all this.

 

THE DEAD GAME

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP  

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

 

COLD

Source:

 

The snow melts,

leaving trails to the lake.

A cold wind brushes by,

leaving me goosebumps.

Ice hangs from the trees,

leaving clear spider webs.

Snow covers the grass,

leaving footsteps behind.

I depart this cold scene,

leaving my own behind.

 

FOOTSTEPS AT THE DOOR

“Institute Benjamenta” (1995) dir. Timothy Quay, Stephen Quay

 

Has he come for me?

I hear his footsteps.

Walking up the steps.

The leaves stop rustling.

The wind stops blowing.

The silence is overpowering.

Is he standing outside the door,

Waiting for me to open it?

I won’t.

I won’t let him in.

He wants me.

I won’t become one of The Dead.

THE DEAD GAME

http://myBook.to/TheDeadGame

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

FORCE WITH NO END

Source:

 

Waves hit the rocks

With frozen blocks.

They plow through the sand,

Sharp claws in their hand.

They ravage the shore,

Coming back for more.

A battle with no end.

A force we cannot bend.

 

THE SNOW IS BLACK

No automatic alt text available.
Image may contain: text
Image may contain: flower and plant

 

A town where the snow is black,
bringing coldness and fear.
Old remnants of tears held back,
and times too hard to bear.
Woven from black sheets of rain,
fear covers in disarray.
Anguished and frozen with pain,
dark petals fall in dismay.
Hell has come to Oasis,
The Dead and gone at its side.
Now hidden behind faces
that are well-known far and wide.
Who will fall prey to The Dead?
I hope it is not me.
I’m hiding under my bed.
I’m afraid as I can be.
THE DEAD GAME
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

THE DEAD OF NIGHT

flowersgardenlove:

 

Come to the party.

There will be dancing

and plenty of champagne.

A glass house

with perfect guests

in ballgowns and tuxedos,

circling the dance floor

under sparkling chandeliers.

Frozen statues sprinkled about.

A mermaid fountain waiting

in the rose garden.

Nothing could be better

or more perfect.

That is, until the clock

strikes midnight.

All freeze to the sound.

Many ascend the clear

staircase to the rooms above.

Where have they gone?

And why?

We are left to wonder

with the dwindling number

of guests.

Will our fate be sealed

on this night?

Come and help us.

THE DEAD GAME

Kindle

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

Nook

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

IT SITS ALONE IN THE GARDEN

 

How sad is this statue?

Tears dripping down its body.

It sits alone in the garden.

A heart frozen to its core.

 

Its eyes closed in sadness.

For a savior long and gone.

It sits alone in the garden.

Waiting for help from beyond.

 

Tears fall ever so slowly.

Freezing close to the ground.

It sits alone in the garden.

Its silent sighs in the wind.

 

It bows its head in prayer.

For a savior not found.

It sits alone in the garden.

No one else around.

 

THE DICTATES OF OLD MAN WINTER

flowersgardenlove:

 

The epic battle of the seasons.

Old Man Winter 

erase all signs of Fall.

He covers the ground 

with his icy cold snow.

But Fall holds her leaves close

to her body and her heart.

Some have fallen,

lone casualties of war.

The battle rages

on the ground,

in the air,

and on the water.

Fall will have to succumb

to the dictates of Old Man Winter.

She has no choice.

She puts up a valiant battle.

She will be back after Summer

finishes heating the earth.

Farewell.

We’ll see you soon.