Misty Night of Blue
Cool misty air just out of your reach but the stining freeze leaving its mark.
The sharp pains run through your back as your solid hands clentch together tightly.
Tainted snow is left behind as slow footsteps stumble away.
An erie sky is shot above as the blood drips from its wound.
Calls and whispers are carried through the wind as it ties close to your frozen bones.
Misty night of blue comes to you.
It was pouring outside. The cool rain came lashing down against the hard concrete. I gazed out as the gray ocean engulfed the sky. Weariness lingered upon my shoulders as my eyes slowly began to close. A dark blind slowly shut over them until there was nothing left. I awoke suddenly to the harsh pounding against the door. Getting up while stretching, I made my way over swaying slightly to and fro. I opened the door and peared out to see no one there. The rain hadn't ceased, I feared it never would. I began to close it when I saw a brown soggy box at my doorstep. A confused look came across my face for I hadn't ordered any packages of any sort. I bent down and unfolded the thick cardboard tabs. As I looked inside my eyes dialated at the sight of a kitten. It was small and shivering, drenched under the cold rain. I new I couldn't leave it and there was no where to return it to. I picked up the box and carried it inside slamming the door with my foot behind me. I brought the small animal
The pale blue sky basked in shimmering rays of gold,
Carried with time behind a cloud of trees.
Sinking with an ever growing shadow,
Draining life from the tides of the day.
Falling forward with each steady breeze.
Chilling notions on which a nation breaths.
Light within a sullen sky, is a path to travel.
Presenting itself upon dusty trails and cool winter passages.
It grows and then it dies only to be reborn.
Sun catches upon each form it passes over.
Peaks of trees, set ablaze,
Rivers of life upon the summer days.
Oh, what the morning may carry.
Man of the SeaI once had a love who lived by the sea.
Striking black hair and an honest love for me.
I held on tightly as he left that faithful day.
Into deep waters, he never could stay.
The tides went up and the ocean set ablaze.
Maddend by worry my heart was sent into a craze.
The sun came up and all was at still.
The boats came in and I watched with great will.
The men unboarded but one man still remained.
At the bottom of the sea is where my love was delayed.
I went out to the dock to search for him there.
Everyone said we were an inseperatable pair.
So in I jumped with the passing day.
There with my love is where I did lay.
CasketI heard the voices softly spoken
The dying breath speaking without a sound
I held the hand that quivered within my own
An earthquake diminishing below the surface
Face veiled in white, crippled and scarred
The solitude of death, a remiss compared to the present
Compared to the darkness all around, creeping down our spines
Choking us at night with its grip around our throats
Holding tightly, each finger in its place
It pulls harder but we do not wake
We're in our tombs already, lying neatly, silent
Thin planks upon the others as the top is nailed firmly down
Each casket lined across, an ever growing mound
Piling up more and more until no ones left around
Vanishing under a single blow, everyone, without a sound
Empty space within our cabins only ghosts remain
lirking slowly in and out, doing as the reaper bids
Tools in hands cut to ribbons, bones worn away
Blood slips slowly from our wounds but pain holds no place
The cold wraps around flesh and the heat drains us of life
Life's Collisions Part1I gazed emptily out the window, glancing every so often at the front of the room so it would at least look like I was paying attention. I held no interest though, who could really be interested in history. A bunch of old guys fighting wars that already ended centuries ago. I gave out my usual low sigh that happened any time I thought of school in the least bit, and watched the shadows of the clouds in the grass. Am I boring you Miss. Francis? Quickly turning I could see the teacher glaring at me from the front of the classroom and the awkward positions of my classmates that were partly turned in their chairs to see what the hype was all about. The entire class was half dead by the middle of the class period but of course Mr. Gants liked to call me out.
I sat somewhat attentively the rest of the class, keeping my focus on the empty white wall above the chalkboard. Once the bell rang, it was like a stampede running from a group of hungry lions. The lion in this scenario would