they say the pines a’whisper,
a rustling lullaby song,
as the breeze plucks at treetops,
and cool nights grow dark and long
but their sound does not lull, no,
it sings harshly of a ‘bye,
disappearing in shadow,
and cruel whispering of lies
there’s no bogeyman hiding,
in the darkest nooks of night,
it’s absence that’s a’haunting,
hollow howls in the moonlight
-image found via rebloggy.com, revised older poem
I sometimes paint landscapes with silver-tongued brushes,
using a palette made of sand
pigments extracted from fruits of hope,
each stroke with an unsteady hand
I sometime paint landscapes with silver-tongued brushes,
eyes closed as I take it all in
possibility unfolding behind wishful lids,
planting seeds deep within
I sometimes paint landscapes with silver-tongued brushes,
and watch as they wash away
sometimes hope goes only so far,
and seeds don’t see light of day
I sometimes paint landscapes with silver-tongued brushes,
they the predator, and I the prey
-image via Tumblr, original artist unknown
waking behind closed eyes,
she was parched with panic,
damp fear making its way
to the surface of her skin
its ominous presence made known
it wasn’t anywhere in particular;
it was all-the-places,
taking up all the space,
ready, hungry, waiting
it was here for her
she could feel its soul salivating,
its stifling need, heavy in the air,
her breathing labored,
the air freezing in gasps in her lungs
it wants to diminish her
with all her will,
she struggled to pry open her eyes,
her brain certain to make it so,
each individual muscle desperate to cooperate
it allowed no sight
frantic, her voice gathered all its strength to scream,
urgent cries heaving within her chest,
it’s stifled agony glued to the tip of her tongue
it allowed no sound
arms tensing to throw back the covers,
her feet begged to run and run and run,
all of her muscles rigid with yearning,
threatening to snap
it allowed no movement
so it was she accepted her fate,
breathing slowing in surrendered trembles, muscles giving way to exhaustion,
and eyes which no longer needed opening in order to see,
shed involuntarily tears
it allowed them
~image found on Pinterest, and the words are bringing to life a recurring dream I had long ago, shared in response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Tale Weaver, The Dark Side Challenge
Heart Breathings 