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Poems

The Faces of Death

Mrs. Huffilton sat comfortably in her old red armchair

As she stared off into space without any care

Her arms cradled a little doll

Her hair was undone

Her frail body, covered in something fit for a ball

Her eyes, black, as the darkness that surrounded her

The silence was loud, not empty

She waited patiently

For the ratting, tapping on her door

 

Lost in her thoughts she was

Waiting patiently for the scream of the kettle

Her cheeks smudged in black ink

Her lips were a shade of bloody red

Her appearance looked like someone who had just gotten out of bed

 

In front of her was a puddle of her tears but she just looked straight ahead

Her lips curled into smile, revealing her rotten teeth

When soft steps broke her focus.

 Her eyes returned to their hungry gaze

He had come

 

The broken holes in the wall let the wind outside flow in

Killing the flame in her heart and the rage in her head

“Death” she whispered

As the breeze around her carried her words away.

 

The man outside grinned

His face may have shown centuries of dead hope

But his stance spoke otherwise

His eyes lit up like a fireplace

He gave a small grin before

Fully disguising himself as a tall bony man

With only his library of knowledge and his carefully planned speech to give him away.

The golden watch attached to the chain on his pocket ticked furiously

 

His long fingers curled up, as he extended his index revealing a a ring of Ruby Zoisite

Ding Dong

Mrs. Huffilton rose from her seat, screaming excitedly.

Yelling in pain

Dancing of joy

Her mournful squall, disguised behind kettle’s squeal

 

Her dress hung loosely from her body as she threw her front door open

shining moonlight into her rather drafty home

Clothes and undergarments were thrown everywhere

Piles of broken cups and stacks of plates and bowls were placed everywhere except the kitchen sink

A small rat climbed up her leg, as her smile stretched to its limit

 

“Darling you have finally come back…” she squeaked,

“Look I have even worn a dress for the occasion”

The man at the door looked her up and down before grabbing her by the waist and placing his gigantic ring on her finger.

“Look what I got you”

After a kiss on her cheek

And a lot of pleading for another one on the lips

 

They sat in darkness, the door shut tight, behind them

 “Oh I forgot all about the tea, excuse me my dear” she ran off

Bringing back a tray filled with an array of stale cookies and baked goods, making barely any place for the two saucers and teacups filled to the brim

”Darling, it’s time” the man urged, checking his watch before taking another sip of tea.

“But you have just come, Doesn’t Mr. Huffilton want to spend more time with his waiting wife?” she asked her face sinking, as she looked down.

The man in front of her only gave silence, face hidden in the dark of the room

 

2 minutes went by as the couple just sat, with only the sound of the timing watch to fill the silence, slurping down tea

When Mrs. Huffilton gasped, leaving the room.

The man in the armchair just nodded, ignoring the fact, that if she was still even in the room

Then she returned wearing fabric that hugged so tight to her skin

it was as good as standing there naked

“I got it on our last anniversary, you said it made me look like a model in Fashion Magazine!” she explained before she was swept back in the memories of her past

 

When her body was young again, and her face not drained of its color.

 Her hair is as healthy as the many thriving plants outside in the garden.

Then arrived tears, and the rage in her broken heart burned again

“Why did you leave me here, why did you leave and never come back? You were supposed to come back!”

 

The man gave not a reply, but his hand

“No, just 5 more minutes. I have so much to say…”

“He is waiting for you like you were for him” the man finally spoke

 

Hesitantly she took his hand and kissed him on his lips.

 Before collapsing to the ground.

The watch finally stopped ticking, and the wind gave a long sigh, pushing the door open

 

 Soon came the break of dawn

His hair turned to flame-red

His eyes back to an innocent look

As he shrunk down to the size of a little boy

He gave her one last look,

Before heading outside in tattered clothes and a hopeful smile.

 

Tomorrow he was gonna play an old man.

The Faces of Death Read More »

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Where all the lost things go

The wind blew
The cold lake ripples
There is silence
My mind was empty
I had been running for miles.
And still, it was hopeless
I sit still by this lake calling your name
But it is hopeless
You are no longer in this world where you and I first met
You are far away, where lost things go
You are waiting for me
In a place where misplaced things go
I will find you soon
You are not gone
Your memory is forever
Though I may not be able to see you
You are there,
There, where lost things go
You are there smiling
You are there happy
Watching me learn from times when I fail
You are there where forgotten things go
A place full of lost, broken things
You are there and
I need to know no more

pier, fog, lake-407252.jpg

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Dandelions

I stood proud and strong Till the wind came that day. It was first a gentle breeze, it barely moved my position, But what came next was beyond my imagination. It was strong, stronger than all our strengths combined, But I held on, I still stood proud.   I stood still, but the weaker bent, They turned, they fell, and flew with the wind to their uncertain doom. The next breeze was more of a storm! Even the proudest, the most powerful bent, I held on though, I held strong.   I bent and almost fell. The wind pulled me and grabbed onto me like I was a rope in a game of tug-a-war. But I held on, I still stood, but with little hope. I watched in despair as others like my family and friends grew weak, As they too started dancing to the tunes of the wind.   What I felt was indescribable, but I had to stand. My body felt weaker as the wind grew with each passing day. Every day more left, and more couldn’t hold on. And soon came my time. I let the wind carry me but not for long.   I wiggled and fell free into a green luscious meadow. There I nestled into the dirt. The warmth of the sun and the water from the rain aided me.   Now others stand where I once fell, stronger and prouder.

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Infinite stairs

A staircase with infinite stairs

Some are soft and make you smile

Some are hard and some are made from tile

Some stairs have nails poking your feet

Others have hot coal…so hot that it could cook meat

Some stairs were long and others were short

After climbing a few stairs the staircase would split into two

Then comes a decision on which one to choose

This staircase reaches higher than the Earth to Mars

But no one has ever been able to get that far

What is at the end of the stairs is unknown 

But whenever, and wherever you stop a prize is definitely shown. 

A prize that is not based on how much you climbed or how fast it took 

but a prize for the actions you took 

on the way to get to where you now stood

File:Infinite spiral stairs (Unsplash).jpg - Wikimedia Commons

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Few poems

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Hardworking Sun

The Sun was bright, it shined with all its might.

The children laughed and played,

while the old man lay under the shade.

He smiled at the sun for all that it had done!

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

Swings

Birds tweet as I take a seat,

I fly through the air with my waving hair.

I hold on to the chain as I close my eyes,

What a time I had on this ride!

Few poems Read More »

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Silence

Silence, the steady silence.

I closed my eyes. 

And walked, strolling around the pretty plants and tall trees.

I could hear music. 

I could hear the bright lyrics. 

I could hear the sound of my heart thumping, thumping.

My mind stopped thinking. 

I could hear faraway whispers carried by the wind.

I could hear the sound of the rustling leaves of the Lind.

 I could hear the forgotten secrets of the world.

I could hear the chattering of the squirrels unsettled.

I could hear the singing of the blue jays. 

I could hear the lurking of animals all day.

I could hear many things, but all were because of the silence within me…

A Walk Through The Woods. Which Season Represents Your Life's Journey? |  Forest photography, Nature photography, Photo

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