FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD

 

A walk down the street.

Fragrances so sweet.

White cobblestones line the way.

Here is where I want to stay.

Away from the madding crowd.

A place where I can be proud.

This will be my home.

I don’t need a phone.

All I need is a soft bed

To lay down my weary head.

Fishermen’s cries will awake me

To begin my day by the sea.

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A TOUCH

Henri Martin, Mystic Scene, 1895

 

In the quiet,

There is a hum,

A whispering sound.

A pitch too high to hear.

A touch too light to feel.

We are never alone.

HEAR THE WHISPERS

 

by hdunsirn:Peabody library, baltimore 9.6.14
©hannahdunsirn

 

The peace.

The quiet.

The silence.

The hush of the hallways.

The smell of books.

The taunt of knowledge.

Sit at a table.

Sit by the stacks.

Sit in the corner.

Feel the adventure.

Live the history.

Learn about life.

DUST IN THE WIND

 

I’m alone

Beneath a tree

In a garden.

No sounds

But birds chirping.

The smell of grass

in the warm air.

What is that sound?

The wind rustling the leaves.

Beautiful.

Relaxing.

Perfect.

The sun retreats.

 

Footsteps draw near.

Too dark to see who it is.

It can’t be.

I’m now dust in the wind.

SOLITUDE

SOLITUDE
A rare commodity is solitude.
It can be easily misunderstood.
To be all alone with no one else around.
You can do this in the air or on the ground.
You can sail off in the blue sea,
Or hop on a plane without me.
We can all use some time...

 

SOLITUDE

A rare commodity is solitude.
It can be easily misunderstood.
To be all alone with no one else around.
You can do this in the air or on the ground.
You can sail off in the blue sea,
Or hop on a plane without me.
We can all use some time alone.
Without T.V. or telephone.
Time to think about your goal.
You will come back feeling whole.

 

STAND TALL

BUDS OF HOPE
In midst of despair and sorrow
Rise buds of hope for the morrow.
Still standing upright and strong
Against all that can go wrong.
These are extreme times of confusion and change,
Media expanding over a broader range.
We are attacked by...

 

 

In midst of despair and sorrow
Rise buds of hope for the morrow.
Still standing upright and strong
Against all that can go wrong.

These are extreme times of confusion and change,
Media expanding over a broader range.
We are attacked by sounds from each direction,
Leaving no time for thinking and reflection.

These flowers know what’s real,
They go by what they feel.
Away from the hustle and bustle,
They grow wild without any tussle.

A day to clear my cluttered mind is all I need.
To recharge my battery is what I should heed.
I’ll recharge in a quiet place like this.
A zest for life is what I dearly miss.

 

MIDNIGHT AT THE OASIS

Midnight at the Oasis

e-e-r-i-n-e-s-s:

Nosferatu (1922)

The clock chimes midnight.

Time stands​ still.

The music stops.

Dancers freeze in place.

All is quiet.

The clock chimes twelve times.

The music resumes.

Dancing continues without a hitch.

The Dead have assumed control.

THE DEAD GAME has begun.

A QUIET SPOT

In a quiet spot.
On a soft chair.
In the sun’s spotlight.
I will read a book.
Eyes wide open.
Mind set to explore.
Sunlight streaming in.
I will read a book.
Hands trembling.
Tears falling.
Sun warming my body.
I will read a book.

 

 

 

In a quiet spot.

On a soft chair.

In the sun’s spotlight.

I will read a book.

Eyes wide open.

My mind set to explore.

Sunlight streaming in.

I will read a book.

Hands trembling.

Tears falling.

Sun warming my body.

I will read a book.

 

 

PARADISE

Shadows in the dark-2

 

There’s paradise in Oasis, Florida.
Sun-drenched beaches by day,
Moonlight beaches by night,
A paradise to be shared by all.
Come and enjoy the sleepy nights.
The cooling sea breezes that
Bring mysterious shadows.
Dark shadows that walk
The deserted streets of the town.
All is quiet.
All is dark.
Except for the footsteps.
“Who goes there?”
We ask behind our closed shutters.
No one answers.
Only footsteps.
Who will be alive come morning?


THE DEAD GAME