two hundred and seven words…

 

life’s light never enters a window as soon as expected when you are a child having an endless nightmare that consumes each breath taken beneath the satin sheets and comforter carefully crafted by a now dead grandmother whose spirit seems to inhabit the fibers of this well-worn patch quilt that forms the magical protective armor against the dark knights, those evil spirits of hades, that roam the eerie dark corners of a child’s bedroom situated at the stairs’ pinnacle where a child is  certain that the heavy footsteps heard approaching in the late hours of the night must be his older brother so he calls out and awaits a response that does not come so with great reservation and trepidation the visor of cotton is lifted as his warm breath escapes from beneath the secured closed pivot-hooks of fabric into the cold battlefield air of night and through that small slit tearful eyes peer into the blackness and see not the form of his brother ascending the last step but surely the glowing red form of a devil who does not speak but moves slowly towards the bed but when he stares deeply into the visor it’s closed and the dream ends finally with day’s first light.

 

See:  Marie Marshall ( https://kvennarad.wordpress.com/2018/09/16/two-hundred-and-seven-words-10/ ) for the original version of this form of poetry…this poem was done with Marie’s fine poetry in mind.

mandatory…

 

carefully removing
her dreams
she sat naked
on the floor
staring out
into the night
her room lit only
by
the headlights
of
passing cars
shedding all
her
disbeliefs
she
offered up
another prayer
this time
not herself
but
for those
who sat naked
not
of
their own
choice

 

possession…

 

how many
night sounds
inhabit
your dreams
does
the coyote’s
lone call
stir you
from
an old lover’s arms
leaving you
alone
in
the darkness
or
does
the pine tree’s
breathing
in the wind
remind
you
of
those
last promises
as
you shared
the sacraments
of
love
for
one
final time
before
night sounds
became
your
only
companion

 


another reason not to grow up…

 

the mind becomes trapped
distance between right and wrong
seems even greater
mirage of reality
fool’s lifelong destination

 

i don’t wanna grow up…

 

do you remember
your laughter as a small child
how the silly things
washed away worlds of sadness
why not laugh again my friend