FANTASY

FANTASYI dream of a placeWhere time stands still.Petals fly from trees,A pink hue cast on all.Climb the stairs to the castle,Where fantasies come to life.The warm breeze carries musicOn swirling rainbows of light.Pretty maidens dance in circlesAround the courtyard of flowers.Men become drunk on gigglesAnd flirty stares cast their way.Who is the ruler of this paradise?It is I, the dreamer of dreams.

(Source: sennenkoi)
FANTASY
I dream of a place
Where time stands still.
Petals fly from trees,
A pink hue cast on all.
Climb the stairs to the castle,
Where fantasies come to life.
The warm breeze carries music
On swirling rainbows of light.
Pretty maidens dance in circles
Around the courtyard of flowers.
Men become drunk on giggles
And hide away in their towers.
Who is the ruler of this paradise?
It is I, the dreamer of dreams.
 
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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.

 

THE LAST TREE

 

 

I face the wind

Each day I wait

As time passes

People come and go

Trees fall

Dying animals cry

Buildings replace rolling hills

Fewer trees dot the landscape

Polluted water fills the oceans

Mankind has made drastic changes

Stop before it’s too late

I refuse to be the last tree standing

RED LACE

AN INDIGO MIST

WHO GOES THERE?

IN THE GREEN

 

 

Green grows deep in the forest,

slithering up the tall trees,

digging holes in the brown earth.

The earth rumbles and quakes,

yearning to free itself

from the shackles of green

tethered to its arms and legs.

Soon all is slathered in the lime color

as a green mist gathers and circles.

 

EYES TO THE SKY

 

Light squeezes between the leaves.

Eyes to the sky serve me best.

Rays cast hot fingers on me.

Sun has passed its daily test.

 

The circle widens and deepens.

A place to while away the day.

I keep to its rounded corners.

A place I’ve come to love and pray.

 

THE HOUSE WITHIN

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The wind blows through the trees,

ruffling the blanket of grass,

striking a path through the woods.

The path leads the way

to the house within,

to End House at Oasis.

 

THE DEAD GAME

TO HEAL A WITCH

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Or so they say.

I follow them into the woods

to the house waiting in the distance.

They roam at night

under the full moon.

The Dead walk among them,

or so we are told.

THE DEAD GAME