Well, Well

There is a well of darkness
in the center of my chest
deep and steep-sided

I throw in a penny
then sprinkle it with tears
for all my wishes that
can never be

It’s so simple, really
falling and falling
and finally hitting bottom

Then I reach down
and draw out
a dipper-full of stars

 

This is for Joy, who has resurrected the Flash Friday 55 tradition started by the late, great Galen Hayes.  Check it out at Verse Escape.

Stepping into Darkness

We step into darkness
both knowing
and not knowing
that we know nothing

With hands
outstretched
feeling along cave walls
we come to
an opening
eyes wide
but unseeing
breeze whispers
at our cheek
if
we only
listen

What oceans, fields, forests
does it carry?
What skies
has it traveled through
just
to touch us?

This is for Joy’s resurrection of Friday 55 at her remarkable blog, Verse Escape.

Autumnal Equinox – FF55

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Light and shadows dance
through the ages
flashing, winking, spinning

And now the time begins
when shadows enfold the light
when we turn
to darker thoughts
with shorter days
and colder nights
when blossoms are spent
and fruits have ripened

The growing season is over
prepare your garden
prepare your soul
winter is on the way

This is for Joy, who has resurrected FF55 at Verse Escape.  Go there and see what it’s all about.  (Photo is by me.)

Mid-Night

There is a time
closer to night than morning
when parties fall
into ruin
and the moon wearies

There is a time
when dreams are forgotten
and shades
lose their way 

There is a time
when the clock
gives up its hands
and the hours pool
on the ground
running to regret

This is my time

This is for my friend Joy’s FF55 revival at Verse Escape, even though it’s not Friday, and if you’re counting, there aren’t 55 words.

Nightmare Lullaby

I am standing in the dark.
Suddenly there is a keyboard
around me
like a corkscrew
reaching up, farther than I can see

The floor is gone.
I am floating
with the black and white keys
spiraling down,
down
and disappearing
to a
point.

I begin to play.
The tune is discordant
full of dread
but I can’t stop.

I feel the flapping of wings
just beyond my face,
just out of view

When I look down my hands have
turned into knives
stabbing the
keys which
now spurt blood
everywhere.
And still the dreadful
song goes on

 

Over in the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Bjorn has shown us some nightmarish art and asked us to write about our own nightmares.  Click on the link and check it out.