Dec 20, 2017
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Wind Spirit
Oh spirit of wind Why dost thou run so? Wild and free, untamable Often sought and never found Crossing land and sea without a sound Oh spirit of wind Why art thou so beautiful? Sleek and sure of foot Who chases thee and seeks to tame Thy spirit without a name
A Forest
Oh, gentle, loving forest So beautiful you are With your trees tall And leaves of shining green So many different shades I see As I walk among brown boughs Such variety that grows here The delicate ferns and the resilient flowers Little dots of color displayed proudly Light shines down from the canopy Creating endless and ever-differing patterns Providing life to those things that grow There is life all around me The calls of animals living The joyous songs of carefree birds The little insects moving underfoot But these are faint and far away All is silent where I stand Reaching out to touch a fragile leaf Feeling all it its tiny, little hairs Seeing the intricate pattern of its veins The biggest one running down the middle A multitude spreading out from there Such vitality this one leaf has A meadow of soft grass Tickling me as I sit down The strong trees surrounding Watching the fiery sunset Absentmindedly stroking a blade of grass Lost in my own thoughts Now the sun falls and the moon takes its place The night casts its shadows Light and dark playing with each other I can't help but wonder what mysteries are here What things lurk in those shadows Quiet, unseen, yet beautiful This forest at night Infinitely more elegant than before Stirring forgotten memories I am not afraid here I do not fear those creatures of the dark For I feel as if I belong
The Guitarist
The guitarist tunes up. His calloused fingers run across the nylon strings. He turns the little knobs at the end of the instrument, Listening and adjusting the pitch. Once he's satisifed, he sits up And slings the strap around his neck. He's a young man, hardly into his twenties. He has jet-black hair and blue eyes. His face is rough with stubble. His jeans are ripped and frayed, His sweater dirty and ragged, His once white shoes grayed. He's sitting on a short brick wall, A hat at his feet. He begins to strum the guitar. Suddenly. music flows forth as he sings. His voice isn't good or bad, only average. A crowd gathers around him. Loose change is dropped into the hat The guitarist plays classical songs, Hit songs and even songs of his own composition. A few people make requests. The sun sets and he stops, tired. The couple of people who are there leave. He glances at the hat. Even after playing all day, it was barely full. He sighs and takes off the guitar strap. He gently puts the guitar in its black case. The locks snap shut.
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Lone Hunter
Hungry, almost starving Snout raised To the wind Nostrils snuffling Ears perked Eyes wide open Alert Walk on Listening Intent on finding anything Warm food Cold food Doesn't matter The hot sun is rising There - the tangy scent of deer Zero in, track A fresh trail Leading to a mellow glade Bunches of brown At last Crouch down Hurry Hours gone already But patient Picking out the weak from the strong A thin male or a female laid out incorrectly Choice is made Burst forth Springing from nowhere They awaken, panic, bolt The female too slow Sharp claws grab and hold, tearing Jaws clamp shut Taste of sweet blood Satisfying snap As the neck breaks Realx Catch breath Eat The hunt is done for now
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Untitled
A scrap of paper floats freely with the wind. It settles, lifts, and settles again until it is finally caught in the grasp of a tree. A passerby stops to pull it from the branches. The paper is crumpled, torn, and weathered. The words written upon it in a loopy scrawl are slightly blurred. The passerby unfolds the tattered paper and begins to read. "To whomever may read this: Live simply. Life is fragile And there will always be change. Never take anything for granted. Cherish the good, But don't fear the bad. There will be sad, crippling times, And there will be times of great happiness. Change comes in many forms, Drifting on a scentless wind. No matter what happens, Always live simply, my friend." The wind wrenches the message from the passerby's hands. It flies away, dancing and jumping joyously. Only a small speck of white is visible and is soon gone.
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The Vampire
Chosen, stolen, from the crowd By the one hiding in friendly shroud Fooled by that stealthy guise unseen A friend turned into unholy fiend My father he took just two days before If only I knew what he had in store And so disillusioned was I All the while knowing I was going to die Then he revealed himself to be the monster so abhorred He had an evil glee in his eye as I was tortured Though I begged and cried for my life His claws cut better than any knife I lay shattered and broken Surrounded by words left unspoken Waiting for the final drink The pain such that I could hardly think Just as I fell into that black abyss My fate was sealed with an immortal kiss And two things can come of such a bite Silent death or an even darker plight The venom therein spread through every vein A fiery, burning, intense pain My innocence it did devour As it changed me with its dire power When I awoke with confusion great I found that I had been thrust through Eternity's gate My body was no longer my own I was altered right down to the bone A burning thirst equal to inhaling flame I could barely remember my own name A tide of information in a flood That overwhelming need for blood With these new eyes I can see The subtle shadows on a speck of dust floating free So many things that I can hear Your heart pounding like a drum in my ear Claws, fangs, strength and speed All there to help quench that terrible need Feeling that my own heart has stilled Knowing that I have been killed All I have is hazy memory The truth is impossible but stabs sharply Now I am sworn to never be Like the one who did this to me Left here alone to ask why No chance for a last goodbye Looking to the stars in the sky Who can truly say what it's like to die?
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