Ice Fire
Cold.
Icy cold.
My toes feel numb.
My fingers tingle.
The wind howls.
Sleep tempts me.
But I must continue.
A few more steps.
Silence wraps its arms around me.
I raise my face to the sky.
The colors take my breath away.
ICY COLD
silence
SAY A PRAYER FOR ME
A casualty of war.
A casualty of nature.
Sad.
Alone.
Drifting.
Broken.
Silenced forever.
Say a prayer for me.
A BLANKET OF ORANGE & RED
Among the tombstones,
Butterflies are aflutter.
A blanket of orange & red
falls to cover the green.
Sighs cut the silence
Like a sharp knife.
Beneath the ground,
The Dead wait.
The leaves lift in the wind,
Twirling to form shapes.
THE DEAD GAME SERIES
by Susanne Leist
SILENCE REIGNS SUPREME
Silence reigns supreme.
The sun hides its face.
Palm trees shake their leaves.
Winds quicken their pace.
The hotel’s deserted.
Flapping sounds fill the air.
Dark shadows join the fray
beneath his icy stare.
THE DEAD GAME
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SILENT FEET
They walk on silent feet
through the forest so deep.
I must keep moving my feet
without stopping to sleep.
The howling wind plays their song
of bloody deaths for us all.
They’re not for this place for long.
They wait for the town to fall.
They are surrounding me.
I can’t outrun their reach.
Somehow I must get free
and make it to the beach.
The ground is opening.
Sadly I know for whom.
I’m falling in a hole
that will soon be my tomb.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
UNWANTED FOOTSTEPS
Source:andrevautour
Silence sweeps the streets clean.
No voices to mark the white surface.
A cold wind brushes away
prints of unwanted footsteps.
Lights in the distance
warn us of inhabitants.
Ignore those earthly reminders
of noise and commotion.
Instead, enjoy the serenity
nature presents to us.
IN THE QUIET
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.
SAY A PRAYER FOR ME
A casualty of war.
A casualty of nature.
Sad.
Alone.
Drifting.
Broken.
Silenced forever.
Say a prayer for me.
STARRY NIGHT
egandaa Deactivated
Starry Night Over the Rhone, Vincent van Gogh.
The night walks on tiptoes,
not wanting to wake the sleeping.
The water shimmers in silence
beneath the starry sky.
In the distance, lights flicker
from boats and buildings.
We walk the shore
in the hazy mist of lights.
Lights to comfort the weary
who can’t lay their heads to sleep.
We will walk until the dark blue
turns orange and yellow with sunrise.
Until the streets fill with others
on their way to begin their day.
Gone is the starry night
where silence hides hideous sins.
Time to retreat until the starry night
returns once more.
DARKNESS
:
Alice Svane
The darkness approaches.
It encroaches.
We’re cocooned in its shell.
Hidden in its depths.
Lost in its silence.
I will close my shutters.
Shut my windows.
But it still enters.
SUSANNE LEIST 