Submissions by windsong13
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
TWISTING KNIVES
My soul moaned
down to my marrow of my cold chilled bones
standing with my back against the wind
facing all my sorrows.
As twisted knives turned about
causing my blood to flow about the brown now red ground
and a shallow scream was heard
my breath seeping out of a gaping infected mortal wound.
Stumbling to my knees, holding tight to my chest
knowing I heard the ravens call
and my soul felt like ashes
as though my spirit had been cremated
but only my body remained
a worn diseased ridden hollow shell.
down to my marrow of my cold chilled bones
standing with my back against the wind
facing all my sorrows.
As twisted knives turned about
causing my blood to flow about the brown now red ground
and a shallow scream was heard
my breath seeping out of a gaping infected mortal wound.
Stumbling to my knees, holding tight to my chest
knowing I heard the ravens call
and my soul felt like ashes
as though my spirit had been cremated
but only my body remained
a worn diseased ridden hollow shell.
770 reads
2 Comments
BLACK CROW
The tortured soul of a black crow,
a melancholy of pleasures untold
of this black crow.
He watches you while your sleeping
beady eyes blinking
his breath as cold as ashes
as he breathes your soul
and watches you take your last breath.
This makes the black crow
immortal,
set apart from others.
So I say to you
watch out its Halloween ,
the black crow is watching.
a melancholy of pleasures untold
of this black crow.
He watches you while your sleeping
beady eyes blinking
his breath as cold as ashes
as he breathes your soul
and watches you take your last breath.
This makes the black crow
immortal,
set apart from others.
So I say to you
watch out its Halloween ,
the black crow is watching.
900 reads
4 Comments
mandrake
Mandrake the guardian
feeds on the well guarded forest
those who creep in never leave
their blood soaked land of ancient secrets
footfalls heard, flesh torn blood drips
into the guarded path
and the cursed they call it jungle of the dead.
The jungle comes alive and feeds on flesh
of the inspecting victims
your fate will be lost in this man eating jungle.
feeds on the well guarded forest
those who creep in never leave
their blood soaked land of ancient secrets
footfalls heard, flesh torn blood drips
into the guarded path
and the cursed they call it jungle of the dead.
The jungle comes alive and feeds on flesh
of the inspecting victims
your fate will be lost in this man eating jungle.
719 reads
1 Comment
THE CLOUDS MURMUR
The clouds murmur over the mountain
in a quite sanctuary of autumns rich colors.
A majestic glory to behold
on beautiful colored leaves
makes my heart sing.
Floating into a valley
not seen or felt by man
but only by fairies.
The setting sun all aglow
making the leaves that more beautiful
then they fade away
knowing tomorrow they will come out again
to play
in the wind song.
They echo of their being
the colors of orange, gold, and some green
cascading from the tree.
in a quite sanctuary of autumns rich colors.
A majestic glory to behold
on beautiful colored leaves
makes my heart sing.
Floating into a valley
not seen or felt by man
but only by fairies.
The setting sun all aglow
making the leaves that more beautiful
then they fade away
knowing tomorrow they will come out again
to play
in the wind song.
They echo of their being
the colors of orange, gold, and some green
cascading from the tree.
749 reads
1 Comment
HOUNDS OF HELL # 2
Gentle, mild, and weak,
I creep
To an unknown destination
A portal time forgot
That the devil begot
To see a wisp and hear a scream; over there
To take a picture I could not keep
Knowing full well I would not sleep
For here in the haze of a moonlight night
It speaks through the trees
Two hounds of hell run at my feet
Pulling me to their profound less pit
I screamed to Jesus to pull me out of this injustice
Please I prayed don't let them take me to the bottomless pit
My head racing and pounding my eyes blinking
Hands reaching for...
I creep
To an unknown destination
A portal time forgot
That the devil begot
To see a wisp and hear a scream; over there
To take a picture I could not keep
Knowing full well I would not sleep
For here in the haze of a moonlight night
It speaks through the trees
Two hounds of hell run at my feet
Pulling me to their profound less pit
I screamed to Jesus to pull me out of this injustice
Please I prayed don't let them take me to the bottomless pit
My head racing and pounding my eyes blinking
Hands reaching for...
694 reads
0 Comments
HONEY BEE
This poem was inspired by Flowergirl's poem PRIVATE GARDEN
The flower took it in strife
and opened wide
for the honey bee
to pollen her within.
Her smell was grand
her stems long and strong.
The honey bee could not wait
to touch her soft sweet petals
and to touch her nectar.
The honey bee sang a sweet song to himself
because raping the flower was his pleasure.
The flower took it in strife
and opened wide
for the honey bee
to pollen her within.
Her smell was grand
her stems long and strong.
The honey bee could not wait
to touch her soft sweet petals
and to touch her nectar.
The honey bee sang a sweet song to himself
because raping the flower was his pleasure.
#erotic
#bees
2193 reads
6 Comments
CROWS CALL
Phantoms' drift within a mist.
A black cloak upon the sleeping earth,
and hollowness chills the air,
like that of a ghostly birth.
Nothing heard but that of a fluttering wing and a screeching bird.
A lost crow, black as night,
sits upon a crypt.
Bellowing out his call of the night,
that awakens sleeping bones,
to come forth in the shadows of the night,
looking for life,
and in a chill of death.
A harvest moon creeps out to cast darkness,
like never before.
And creatures of the night arise,
carrying long dark shadows,...
A black cloak upon the sleeping earth,
and hollowness chills the air,
like that of a ghostly birth.
Nothing heard but that of a fluttering wing and a screeching bird.
A lost crow, black as night,
sits upon a crypt.
Bellowing out his call of the night,
that awakens sleeping bones,
to come forth in the shadows of the night,
looking for life,
and in a chill of death.
A harvest moon creeps out to cast darkness,
like never before.
And creatures of the night arise,
carrying long dark shadows,...
683 reads
5 Comments
BLACK HEARTS
Black hearts a drift,
upon a sea of gray mist
souls caught between green moss of time.
Dark doves' of love pierce their black hearts,
leaving an open gap.
bleeding crimson blood into the sea of gray mist.
As crows feast upon their lust,
as they cry out in agony,
to be entwined with dark doves' for all eternity.
upon a sea of gray mist
souls caught between green moss of time.
Dark doves' of love pierce their black hearts,
leaving an open gap.
bleeding crimson blood into the sea of gray mist.
As crows feast upon their lust,
as they cry out in agony,
to be entwined with dark doves' for all eternity.
722 reads
5 Comments
I SLEEP
I sleep as the earth sleeps,
in the golden sands,
beneath the night sky,
or in the winters' snow.
I am a ghostly image of life and death,
as I sleep,
and I sleep as if I am dead,
by time itself to the end.
I retreat to my tomb,
I am a ancient Egyptian dead.
I sleep as the earth sleeps,
in the golden sand,
beneath the night sky,
or in the winters' snow...
in the golden sands,
beneath the night sky,
or in the winters' snow.
I am a ghostly image of life and death,
as I sleep,
and I sleep as if I am dead,
by time itself to the end.
I retreat to my tomb,
I am a ancient Egyptian dead.
I sleep as the earth sleeps,
in the golden sand,
beneath the night sky,
or in the winters' snow...
736 reads
7 Comments
THE UNDEAD
Under the cold dark ground,
the sounds were heard,
upon opening the ground,
of men and women,
found their faces rosy with life,
their mouths and lips covered in blood,
the dead were not dead,
but very much alive.
The undead creeping out at night,
stealing blood from victims
to feed their lust for blood.
the sounds were heard,
upon opening the ground,
of men and women,
found their faces rosy with life,
their mouths and lips covered in blood,
the dead were not dead,
but very much alive.
The undead creeping out at night,
stealing blood from victims
to feed their lust for blood.
876 reads
3 Comments
MURMUR
The great fallen angel that stands before me,
as souls of the dead stands before you,
with your dual crown on your head,
fallen angel of the dead, Murmur...
Murmur, stands before me...
Murmur, a whisper a plead,
as your 30 legions of infernal spirits
attend your ever need.
If he comes to you in a dream,
it is said, he will manifest in the form,
of a great warrior...
Murmur the great fallen angel...
as souls of the dead stands before you,
with your dual crown on your head,
fallen angel of the dead, Murmur...
Murmur, stands before me...
Murmur, a whisper a plead,
as your 30 legions of infernal spirits
attend your ever need.
If he comes to you in a dream,
it is said, he will manifest in the form,
of a great warrior...
Murmur the great fallen angel...
775 reads
2 Comments
PROPHESIES OF MY HEAR
Sometimes in the darkness of the night,
prophesies of my heat whispers to me,
letting me dream of things,
that can never be.
Taking apart my very heart,
letting things that can never be,
come to me,
prophesies of my heat whispers and
calls out my name
prophesies of my heat whispers to me,
letting me dream of things,
that can never be.
Taking apart my very heart,
letting things that can never be,
come to me,
prophesies of my heat whispers and
calls out my name
665 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by windsong13