Thursday, September 13, 2012

A Few Poems


They speak to me.
Few believe this, yet it's true -
The voices
They sing and cry
and laugh and speak
to me.
It's like the chirping
of birds or crickets
or like ants marching
or spiders weaving.
It's quiet yet insanely
It's still yet insanely
I wish someone else could feel it
Sense it
believe in it.

Beyond Reach

He's there
Just beyond reach
I can feel him
Sense him
Almost see him
His eyes reflect dreams
His whispers are promises
His form is strong and comforting
He has the power
to absorb my tears
and still the quaking
But each time I reach
Out a hesitant hand
He's gone
A wisp of fog
Beyond reach. 


It surrounds

She feels it
Or rather
feels nothing.

No dreams
No tears
Her smile lost
in nothingness.

No anger
No fears
Her wit consumed
in nothingness.

No light
No dark
No shadows

No pain
No sorrow


The breeze whispers through the dying day
cool, crisp, slipping beneath the skin
flesh trembles, quivers, arms snaking around
arms to warm the body.

The sun rests just above the horizon
created shadows looming, lurking, waiting
bodies tremble, quiver, arms enveloping
arms to quiet the soul.

An eeriness slips in, slithering around the unexpected
minds racing, seeing, hearing, what isn't there
flesh trembles, quivers, arms caressing
arms to silence the mind.

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