IT’S ALIVE

lilipilyspirit:
“  Sascha Schneider (German, 1870–1927), Eichenwald auf Ruegen (Oak Forest on Ruegen Island), 1925
”
The forest grows dark.
It has come alive.
Wooden arms reach for me.
Roots uncurl from the ground.
Trees shake and dance
to the moans...

Sascha Schneider (German, 1870–1927), Eichenwald auf Ruegen (Oak Forest on Ruegen Island), 1925

The forest grows dark.

It has come alive.

Wooden arms reach for me.

Roots uncurl from the ground.

Trees shake and dance

to the moans of the wind.

Dark shadows follow me.

Moonlight teases me.

I’m trapped in hell,

where the sun doesn’t shine.

THE DEAD GAME

 

 

AN OASIS

 

An oasis where dreams come true,

Palm trees wave in the warm breezes.

Birds sing a happy tune of their own

Until the night exhales its cold breath.

Torrents of wind fly across the sand,

Covering all footsteps of the night before.

Dark shadows leave behind no evidence,

And tourists remain innocent no more.

 

THE DEAD GAME

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A FALL DAY

A beautiful fall day.
A pebbled path through the red.
Charcoal steps leading up.
Fantasies flow through my head.
The leaves lift off
Until the day turns dark.
I’m trapped inside
A red swirl in the park.
The rain trickles.
The wind cackles.
I flee for...

 

A beautiful fall day.

A pebbled path through the red.

Charcoal steps leading up.

Fantasies flow through my head.

 

The leaves lift off

Until the day turns dark.

I’m trapped inside

A red swirl in the park.

 

The rain trickles.

The wind cackles.

I flee for safety

On raised hackles.

 

The path is gone.

Night has come too soon.

The path is gone.

Lost in the full moon.

 

LET THE LIGHT IN

Source:

 

My mind is foggy today.

I need to clear the cobwebs.

Throw out the excess garbage.

The bad thoughts.

The worries.

All to the wind.

And think of a pretty place.

Where the birds chirp and play.

Where the mountains soar high.

Where windows bring in the light.

I can lift my face to the sun.

To the beauty of life.

To the smell of grass.

To the puffy white clouds.

I’m there right now.

Come and join me.

COLD

Source:

 

The snow melts,

leaving trails to the lake.

A cold wind brushes by,

leaving me goosebumps.

Ice hangs from the trees,

leaving clear spider webs.

Snow covers the grass,

leaving footsteps behind.

I depart this cold scene,

leaving my own behind.

 

THE DEAD TAKE NO PRISONERS

A light glows from the gazebo.

Chanting floats on the howling wind.

Lit candles form a circle inside.

A body dangles in their midst,

swaying in the increasing winds.

Dark figures circle the body.

Their hands raised in prayer.

The Dead Game has begun.

THE DEAD GAME

GOODBYE

 

TO BE FREE

I want to be free.

I need to be free.

To fly far away.

Above all else.

To soar high above.

To peer down. 

Through the mighty clouds.

Upon all else.

My wings are spreading.

My head held high.

Feathers to the wind.

Face to the sun.

Goodbye to all.

Goodbye to the mundane.

Goodbye to the everyday.

Goodbye to all else.

IT SITS ALONE IN THE GARDEN

 

How sad is this statue?

Tears dripping down its body.

It sits alone in the garden.

A heart frozen to its core.

 

Its eyes closed in sadness.

For a savior long and gone.

It sits alone in the garden.

Waiting for help from beyond.

 

Tears fall ever so slowly.

Freezing close to the ground.

It sits alone in the garden.

Its silent sighs in the wind.

 

It bows its head in prayer.

For a savior not found.

It sits alone in the garden.

No one else around.