BRING BACK THE DEAD

 

Oh ouija board,

please bring me spirits.

Spirits of the light

and ones of the damned.

I want to hear their tales

of past lives and woes.

I want to feel

their unearthly presence.

Their dead breath

on my face.

Their moans and screams

of the long nights.

Please bring me them this night.

I can feel cold breath.

Shrieks fill the silent night.

Icy fingers trail down my face.

They’re at my neck.

Squeezing.

A little too tight.

Too tight…

Source:

WHISPERS

 

 

Should I stay?

Or should I go?

The island calls to me.

It whispers my name.

The bridge sighs.

It weeps for me.

I will walk across.

It wobbles to and fro.

I hold tight to the ropes.

One step gives way.

So does the next.

The sides unravel.

It hangs by strings.

I can’t go back.

Or forward.

Time stands still.

Then I’m falling.

Water so cold.

Hits my face hard.

Silence takes it turn.

Water covers the rest.

A BODY IN THE NIGHT

HE’S BACK

doorway in forest

 

He’s back.

How could this be so?

My life has been happy.

I should have known.                                                                                              

He will never rest easy.

Without me to torment.

Without me in his arms.

A door is opening for me.

Deep in the dark forest.

He’s tempting me with sunshine.

Sunlight on warm beaches.

His hand is reaching for me.

I must turn away.

And run from his sweet words.

His spirit is all around me.

Enveloping me in its coldness.

He whispers promises in my ear.

He will come for me tonight.

I won’t recognize his body.

He’s coming in a different package.

He’s replaced one of our own.

But I will be prepared and ready.

I will not be fooled again.

The Dead won’t win.

Can’t win.

THE DEAD GAME

HEAR THE WHISPERS

by hdunsirn:Peabody library, baltimore 9.6.14
©hannahdunsirn

The peace.

The quiet.

The hush of the hallways.

The smell of books.

The taunt of knowledge.

Sit at a table.

Sit by the stacks.

Sit in the corner.

Absorb the essence.

Hear the whispers.

Of readers.

Of authors.

Read about love.

About adventure.

About history.

About life.

ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS LISTEN

detestably:</p> <p>A beautiful castle.<br /> It stands alone and deserted.<br /> What stories could it reveal to us?<br /> How many lives have passed through<br /> its majestic halls?<br /> Has there been dancing in its rooms?<br /> Or have sadness and death pervaded<br /> its stone walls?<br /> Go inside and listen to its story.<br /> Listen to the sighs and whispers,<br /> emanating from its dark rooms.<br /> What do you hear?<br /> I can hear both sadness and joy<br /> mixed together in its soft sighs.<br /> All you have to do is listen.</p> <p>

detestably:

A beautiful castle.

It stands alone and deserted.

What stories could it reveal to us?

How many lives have passed through

its majestic halls?

Has there been dancing in its rooms?

Or have sadness and death pervaded

its stone walls?

Go inside and listen to its story.

Listen to the sighs and whispers,

emanating from its dark rooms.

What do you hear?

I can hear both sadness and joy

mixed together in its soft sighs.

All you have to do is listen.