TEARS FROM HEAVEN

 

 

The sun hits my face.

Clouds are soon

followed by raindrops,

Tears from heaven.

Between the sun and clouds

they fall.

Propelled by the soft wind,

They blur my vision,

Stop me in my tracks,

Cause me to face the sky,

To the heavens,

To the source.

A GARDEN FOR THE DEAD

Source:

 

 

Frozen in place.

Dripping tears for centuries.

Memories of a lifetime.

Praying for salvation.

A frown for eternity.

Will her tears sprout

a garden for The Dead?

THE DEAD GAME Series by Susanne Leist

 

THE DEAD GAME 

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP 

PREY FOR THE DEAD: Book Two 

https://amzn.to/2F1IiI2 

TEARS

Olga Akasi aka Ольга Акаси (Ukrainian, b. 1970, Kiev, Ukraine) – Found By Nobody  Paintings: Oil on Canvas

 

 

I cry in the morning.

I cry into the night.

Tears to fill an ocean.

I won’t forget the fight.

I will wait each day.

Bow my head and pray.

I know you’ll return to me.

I will never let you free.

 

ONE SONG

 

 

ONE SONG

 

Sing me a love song.

Rhyme me a sad tale.

The woe of heartbroken lovers

whose tinny cries take to the air.

The needle rides the grooves.

Round in a circle, it goes.

No beginning or end.

Like a tear that refuses to fall.

A song without an end.

The melody echoes through eternity.

One jump and scratch at a time.

IT’S THE SEASON

 

 

IT’S THE SEASON

The petals fall fast and furious.

The bare trees watch the fallen.

Limbs shivering in the coming cold.

Pink tears of surrender coat the ground.

As seasons come and go.

Yearning for their lost children.

They lift scraggly arms to the sky.

Prayers will soon be answered,

As seasons come and go.

Coats of white land on their branches.

Night falling all too soon.

Shivers dislodge the packed ice.

Leaving them bare once again.

They lift weary eyes to the sky.

As seasons come and go.

A warm wind caresses their arms.

Eyes open to sprouting buds.

Green and pink sweaters for spring.

Their children have returned.

As seasons come and go.

 

PETALS TO THE SKY

THE ICE HOUSE

 

 

 

The dance floor is full.

The guests twirl between statues.

Sad expressions etched into faces.

Tears flow down frosty cheeks.

An undercurrent of evil lies

beneath the music and gaiety.

Time to leave the perfect guests

and the frozen smiles.

Time to escape if one can.

THE DEAD GAME