Through haze of open war
and fallen worlds,
Persistent as the dreads of private past,
Hangs a blinking light. Shrouded,
demanding to be seen.
A protrusion, cold, dead, geometric,
Thrust from the light
In defiance of death and
In spite of the laws of life
long ago etched and written –
long ago burned and forgotten.
I wonder, as another book is filled,
The cost of secrets hidden from my life –
As many try the brush, the pen or knife,
Yet inconsistent come the answers willed.
On good days, and your worst, he’d always greet you with his cheer.
Familiar to the office block, he’d been there for a year.
Through sun and snow, you’d find him there
Collecting cash for parking’s fare
And lending friendly ear.
The workers grew quite fond of him – this man they’d celebrate,
(He’d even forge excuses if when running, they were late).
And so it came as quite a shock
When one day, where there’d been a lock
They found an open gate.
On edge of dry creek’s inlet,
A shadow plods on by –
The rider but a silhouette
against an orange sky.
His garments were in fading,
With tassels ready frayed,
Though none of this could quite be seen
amidst the coming shade.
For, blooming in the distance,
Was man and mount’s friend, one.
The only other living soul –
They called the setting sun.
Beneath, they watched in wonder,
And shed a straying tear,
As stars tore sky asunder
making them but disappear.
A dark power is sweeping across the land.
Our lone hero hears of a strange disturbance in the forests, and travels north to lend aid.
What he finds there is more than he can comprehend, but is it all as it seems?
A new tale of adventure and magic, told in verse.
Through blackened mist
and sodden earth,
The crows above shall sing.
In tune with bones
And creaking lids-
Open, the coffins spring. Continue reading “Shadow Creatures”
The graveyard of ten thousand stones-
A maze to match the sky-
Was riddled with the blackened bones
Of centuries gone by.
The stones did reach to realms of dreams
As vines then grew in cracking seams,
But never, knew they why. Continue reading “Statue and Stone”
The lane, illuminated by the only flicking light
That holds at bay the dim in such a way no others might,
By day does watch commuters, in a blur, pass blindly through-
But only those worth noting are the ones that pass by night.
Continue reading “New Recruit”
And In my wake, a stream obscene
Does stain the pavement ‘neath my shoes,
Like Neptune drowning Travertine-
From whence it flows I have no clues.
Continue reading “Fontana Rossa”
J Best Books 