The Gathering.
Where are the crows of yesterday?
The sky is blue, no longer black.
They've flown, they've flown, they've flown away.
I feel, I feel, I feel the lack.
Feathered shadows laugh
morning slips into day
the crows follow me
The sky is blue, no longer black;
No raucous cries to fill the gap.
I feel, I feel, I feel the lack.
A thousand feathers land in my lap.
stale bread crumbled...tossed
the field soon dotted with knots
of conversation
No raucous cries to fill the gap,
But tears I weep to lure them here.
A thousand feathers land in my lap -
A beating sound as they draw near.
evening tints the sky...
trees grow qui
to open doors
best left closed
to reach dark shores
no mortal knows
got the ouija board,
got the glass, switched off lights.
now we'll see or not.
best left closed
its lock left fractured
no mortal knows
just who is captured
is there, as they say,
more between heaven and earth?
i'm dreaming, perhaps.
its lock left fractured
barrier breached
just who is captured?
who's sought? who seeks?
a shadow lingers.
a chill runs through my body.
someone's here with me.
barrier breached
safety eschewed
who's sought, who seeks
is misconstrued
mysteriously
objects move and doors get slammed.
i upset sir ghost.
safety esche
Death's Favorite Color by cosmicpenguin, literature
Literature
Death's Favorite Color
Part one - Bedtime story
"Because it's custom," she said. She wore black, I wore black. "Everyone wears black at funerals. Black is death's favorite color, so we wear it as a sign of respect."
Grandpa slept. The priest told him a bedtime story. The priest wore black, grandpa wore black.
Part two - Cross examination
She wore white, I wore black. "It's to keep me safe," she said. "The doctors give us white to wear so we stay invisible to death."
Part three - Fairy tale
"It's like a play," she whispered. She wore white, I wore black. "The women play life, the men play death. The two in the middle join together, like life and death at the b
It Has Come To My Attention by ursulav, literature
Literature
It Has Come To My Attention
It has come to my attention
that people like me
are generally not welcome in fairy tales.
It's the talking birds that do it.
The minute a sparrow shows up to pipe a direful warning
it's all over
down at the first hurdle
done
The body in the fifty-fathom well
will have to wait
the old woman turned into a hare
the murdered mother in the juniper tree
as I whip out my Sibley guide and look for the entry
with the fieldmark labeled capable of human speech.
For this crime
I have been accused of a failure of wonder
of having chained up my inner child and sent her
to work in the salt mines.
But the truth
(if you really want to kn
1.
no closure
after your death
only poems
unfinished
on the dresser
2.
taking in
our delinquent son
a leaf
more golden
as it falls
3.
evening jog
out of the mountain
I arrive
at the edge
of moonlight
4.
mulling the question
can poetry stop a tank?
the potential
of a butterfly
at rest
5.
another cut
in teacher wages
one thrush
never making it
to flight
6.
distant cries
of southbound geese
I too
still stuck
in old patterns
7.
endless sermons
on the road to God
I follow
the shimmer
of a cockroach
8.
so many words
for winter sorrow
yet another
blank face
from the moon
9.
unable to afford
her dre
According to you I am:
not ready
still a child
not right
when what you mean is not enough
What is there to say?
I am
I'm not
Hell yes! to the third account
but there is something more important to say
Since you've left:
I haven't cried
I'm more angry then sad
I'm writing again
I feel free and strong
I am
I'm more woman without you
Without a single word from you or me
We know
We know the lifetimes before us
We know the pleasure and pain of our love
We know that the other is thinking only of us
We know that time can stand still for hours
We know true happiness
We know the flight of unified souls
We know the greatness of what is ours
And will not let a second of it pass us by