Alison Scarpulla
Alone with my thoughts.
Lost in my dreams.
Darkness in my soul.
A deserted forest.
Empty of people.
Devoid of sound.
No movement.
No sunlight.
Only endless trees.
My thoughts ring
Loud and clear
In this empty void.
Ice Fire
Cold.
Icy cold.
My toes feel numb.
My fingers tingle.
The wind howls.
Sleep tempts me.
But I must continue
To the top of the hill.
The view waits for me.
Only a few more steps.
Silence wraps its arms around me.
I raise my face to the beauty.
The colors take my breath away.
Desolate.
Alone.
Empty.
No neighbors.
The wind rattles my walls.
Snow layers my roof.
No peace.
Cold.
Icicles hang low.
A deafening silence.
Will winter end?
Will the horses return?
I wait and hope.
The silence moves.
Its breath cold
on my neck.
It watches
and waits for a sound.
It drifts closer,
then surrounds me.
Once it hears any sound,
it will silence me
forever.
A casualty of war.
A casualty of nature.
Sad.
Alone.
Drifting.
Broken.
Silenced forever.
Say a prayer for me.
The water flows smooth
through a quiet town.
Bedtime draws near.
Soon dreams will filter
through the cool breeze.
The bridge gives a sigh
before settling for the night.
Source:farewell
Wait for the night
to darken the sky
in deep shades of red
to purple fading to black.
Silence follows on gossamer wings
to quiet uneasy heartbeats,
to soothe the roaming beasts.
Wait for the night
to bring a dark veil on activities,
to unfurl the roaring waves.
Silence is here
and so is the night.
It comes slowly
In the dead of night,
Walking on silent feet.
It draws closer.
You run faster.
It gathers speed.
You dash into a building,
An empty school.
It follows.
It brings silence.
You can feel its presence,
Moving closer.
It’s hurrying
Along the deserted hallway.
You check the doors.
They are locked.
You turn,
Close your eyes,
And stand firm.
Darkness descends.
Altamura (Apulia, Italy) by Dauno Settantatre
Dark are the streets
By which they creep.
Silence is their goal.
Through the town, they go.
Bodies left behind,
Blood-dry we will find.
Church bells are tolling,
And heads are rolling.
Flee from this we must
Before we are dust.
THE DEAD GAME
Inside Edinburgh’s castle. Scotland || Personal photograph
A castle where spirits walk
Darkness hides in corners
Vintage fingerprints smudge the walls
Old fragrances float in the air
Shadows follow without footsteps
And sighs fill the empty spaces
