FIFTY WORD STORY – Dragon’s Roost

The sky was blue as the dragon soared overhead. Its scales shined like wildfire in the light. Its shadow mocked the dry trees as it flew by. Men and beast alike hid as it passed—even the rivers seemed to roar quieter, until it circled the mountain once, and disappeared.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Pouring

The air seemed to freeze. Sounds seemed to hesitate. The room stood still as eyes spread wide with awe and fear. All things seemed to stop. The rain had grown so strong it that it pelted the roof like drums; the stream from the gutter grown into a gushing waterfall.

——

 

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MUSIC SERIES – Zombies

Spooky season is almost over, but I wanted to write a poem inspired by This is Halloween…so here it is. 😀

 

Zombies

 

You will see them on the sidewalk

in search of sweet morsels;

their legs scraping along the way

as they savor their treats.

 

They lurch into a sudden sprint

toward my small corner house.

I can hear their fingers scratching

as they try to get in.

——

 

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The Red Eye – A Poem

Hey there, I took a break from the music series this week to write a poem that’s been nagging me since I woke up.

 

The Red Eye

 

From the windows of the wet plane

I see a white bird migrating

away from its spring time meadows

in the sanctity of midnight.

 

I wonder if it, too, wields

the fire of a red dragon

waiting for its feathers to burn

to a set of bloody scales.

 

I wonder if its heavy wings

are waiting for the chance to spread

or if its watery brow steams

beneath the hard rains of the storm

 

and from my small leather backed seat

confined to sit with the people

who looked for their peace in the sky

I wonder why he doesn’t dive to safety.

——

 

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Awaiting Pets (and Other Haikus)

Through the Window

They will never know

that I saw them together

sitting on the grass.

 

Behind Schedule

Even now the clock

seems to be drifting faster

than I can keep up—

 

Night Terrors

Their shifting outlines

stand, staring in the window,

just beyond the light.

 

Editing

Pressing a pencil

against a piece of paper

changes don’t to do.

 

Awaiting Pets

He came to my leg,

leaning just beneath my hand,

and looked in my eyes.

——

 

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Sitting Dogs (and Other Haikus)

Text Back

The three blue bubbles

bounce in the left hand corner

bursting with silence.

 

Fear of the Dark

There’s nobody there.

Nobody in the darkness

clawing at dead things.

 

Eyes Closed

Walking with eyes closed;

somewhere an ambulance sounds

a sharp reminder.

 

Looking at the Bar

The circular stains

of an overfilled glass cup

that sat for too long.

 

Sitting Dogs

Their tails kick dust

when they drag against the dirt,

waiting for dinner.

——

 

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BEAT

Beat

 

I am lying in the dark

with a hand held over my heart

listening to the heavy thud

of blood pumping through my veins,

 

and the beat seems to blister

as the blackened air grows thicker

in this hollow veil of smoke

that cloaks my body from pain.

 

Still I wonder about the chains.

The stains that silence the soul,

dragging behind the cinder

like the cross behind a sinner.

——

 

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STRIKEOUT

Like an umpire shooting bullet holes

through a neighborly batter’s defenses,

you should strike through the draft of your paper

with the black ink of objectivity.

 

Or else you’ll be an executioner.

The ink will become your vicious black hood

and the pen will be your dripping red axe

swinging at the necks of innocent words.

 

Or worse yet, you will be back in high school,

stuttering sentences in a mirror

as you prepare to ask Suzy to prom,

just to doubt you had a shot to start with.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #74 – SO COLD

Outline for me the love in your blue lies.

Was life so cold between these crimson walls

that you would search for warmth in winter skies?

Are you so conned by the sweet siren’s calls

that you would cast away your canvased life?

My love has birthed for you the finer things,

and you forget so quick that lasting strife

which bound your comely hands in puppet strings.

Then sketch your will with Neptune by your side

await those waves to take you through the light.

You’ll see those shallow waters swell with pride

and drown you in that cerulean night.

Yet when I see you float beyond that door,

I know you’ll wish that you had stayed ashore.

——

 

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BAT SONGS

The shade of bats fluttering in the distance engulfed the lights of the stars, like lines of black paint against the night. The chill metal of the bench was sharpened as they passed overhead; their shrill chatter echoing in my ears. Their beckoning song seemed to call out, “Sleep, Ulysses.”

——

 

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