A RED GLOW

red glow

Alexander Calder, Sumac V. 1953.

 

A glow in the night

will lead me astray

from the moon’s light

to where I can’t say.

 

Bloody prints mark the way

to a small town on the shore.

At the end of the day,

we are at the devil’s door.

 

Time has no meaning or reason.

You can travel forward or back.

Death will follow with each season.

It is past time for me to pack.

 

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist

 

A WITCH’S BREW

red paradise

 

A WITCH’S BREW

 

Our paradise is lost,

Never to return again.

To the winds, we are tossed,

Peace to be replaced by pain.

 

Like a cold witch’s brew,

An Oasis for all.

Now a hell for the few,

Who remain to tell all.

 

THE DEAD GAME SERIES

 

RED IN ITS ANGER

 

 

The storm approaches the shore.

A spray of water hits my face.

The salty breeze lifts tendrils of hair.

Palm trees sway and bend.

The sand ripples

from the increasing wind.

Birds flee for safety.

Waves crash against the rocks.

The sky darkens to red in its anger,

raining tears across the land and sea.

When will it end?

Once the sky calms,

the sun will shine.

The birds will return.

The tantrum will be over.

RED LACE

 

 

RED LACE

I will lay down my head to sleep

Beneath a canopy so deep.

Soft leaves curl around my face,

Covering me in red lace.

Sticks of trees protect my sides.

Perfect place for one who hides.

The sun peeks in between the red,

The rays of sunshine warm my head.

BLOOD NIGHT

The night holds
You too tight.
You belong to us now.
I say this with a bow.
You will follow us to hell
As we ring the nightly bell.
Our servant you will be.
You’ll never be set free.
♦THE DEAD GAME♦

RED SUNSET

Cape Cod July 2013_-60 (by jackfrench)

 

 

Sunset brings shadows with the night.

Birds of prey take off in dark flight.

Hues of red fill the night air.

High-pitched howls sound too near. 

Residents hide behind locked doors.

Is that blood seeping through the floors?

The forest rumbles with song and laughter.

Night parties filled to every rafter.

Limousines line the path to the glass house

Glass statues watch them, quiet as a mouse.

Dancing halts at the strike of midnight,

Twirling figures freeze in the moonlight.

THE DEAD GAME

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