Witches

~Witches~

Cold as bitter frost

They come

Ugly as a forest blight

Warped and twisted

Spreading only shadows

In their wake

Harsh as winter wind

They scorch

Turning foliage brown with rot

Crooked as old branches

Stooping, creaking

As they tread

Rancid as dead meat

Their breath

Whispering of miseries

Of pain and horror

Shedding only nightmares

As they speak

Sharp as ragged thorns

Their tongues

Ensnaring victims with their spells

Spitting poison

Spiteful, gloating

As they laugh

Eyes like dying coals

They stare

Watching as you soundly sleep

Waiting now for you to choke

Twitching, blissful

At your death

Rubbing hands with glee

They cackle

Gathering your cold remains

Grinding them to dust

Tasting, licking

At your bones

Underneath the moon

They dance

Weaving a grotesque parade

Hunched and ragged

Seeping through the night like dreams

Seeking out your mortal terrors

Dread and trepidation

…Fear

All of these, their seeds

Beware.

~

Memories

~Memories~

No one plays here anymore.

Now there is only corroded metal.

Flaking paint that lies crumbling on stone;

Blowing like dust-dry memories.

A stain marks the ground.

The old swing moves.

Wind tugging at tired chain.

The links squeal a distant echo

Of a once more joyous sound.

There is no more laughter here;

No longer the calls of youthful voices

.

Cheerful play and bodies wrestling

In the yellow grass.

…Long gone,

Like the crisp autumn leaves

That tumbled in confused eddies,

Chasing along the river bank.

Occasional tears pass by.

The grass grows tall.

Litter faded with time.

No one plays here anymore.

Fire

Fire.

It dances in her eyes

Like an echo of her raging anger,

Her burning hatred

Her skin is the colour of ash:

Grey;

Drained,

Like her heart.

Her blood runs cold.

There is no heat in the fire.

Her bitterness is a vacuum

Into which all warmth is sucked.

Remorse is gone;

Forgiveness,

A distant memory.

She senses his pain.

She smiles.

Betrayal fuels her.

Resentment drives her.

And now, like her searing jealousy,

He will burn.

Scars

~Scars~

Blood was bitter in his mouth

Ran across his hands like oil on water.

His heart hammered a macabre crescendo;

Ragged breath like a rattling drum.

It was almost laughter.

Not quite.

His soul - a dying star - deserved to laugh.

It had wept, lamenting his long-dead conscience.

Unable to escape the pull of his black and empty heart.

Forced to watch him wreak horror for his own cold amusement,

Growing dim behind the windows of an artist’s eyes;

All glimmer of humanity slowly fading.

Lost behind tears of blood.

His vacant heart faltered,

Drumming the last moments of a pointless life.

He fell to his knees in the ghastly remains:

More beautiful now than ever in life.

 Her name had been Linda.

 His scarlet flower -

His final work

Perfection.

A masterpiece he had etched with dispassionate love.

They would remember this day

And remember her name:

His Valentine.

His lover.

His Linda

He smiled.

Could smell her precious sweet blood,

The beautiful scent of her last gasping breath.

Recall still the taste of her tears on his tongue;

See her eyes:

Pale.

Fading.

Her cry…

A distant memory.

The warmth of her flesh long gone.

His own blood spread like the petals of a rose;

Blue lights flashed on the surface of his eyes.

He drew a final long breath:

Quavering;

Fragile.

Satisfied.

His life at last had meaning.

Etched of horror and painful desire.

Of tears.

Gone.

But the scars he etched,

Like the art he drew from the well of his heart,

Testimony to love,

Lived on.

I Am Winter

Winter comes,

Cold and desolate as my heart.

I breathe 

And all is frozen before me:

The air turns to crystal stars.

The sun meekly bows to my presence;

Fades while darkness, slow as a seeping stain

Spreads across the once pale sky.

My footfalls

Turn the ground to glass.

Ice beads the trees as nature tries to weep,

Retreats before me with fleeing warmth.

Shivering at my passing,

Lamenting my arrival.

Within my soul there dwells no mercy.

For I am winter.

And I am Death.

Tear of God

~Tear of God~

Clouds darken:

A bruise to mark the arrival

Of the storm that will wound the land.

A resonant sound stirs

Deep within the vault of the sky.

A murmur.

A summoning.

It will come soon

And the wound will be deep.

The warning rolls along the sky;

Cobalt clouds bear the silent flicker

Of white fury.

The bruise spreads.

Feeble light flees before it,

Cowers and is lost to its shadow.

The reach of its presence inescapable.

The air turns to acrid hot sulphur.

Birds take to the sky.

In vain.

There is no escape.

A single silver tear falls;

Hits the ground like shattering glass.

The breath of the storm is held.

A moment.

A sigh.

Silence;

Eternity

In but a heartbeat,

Before the end of the world. 

~

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

Voices

~Voices~

They whisper...

They will not be ignored.

They linger in the fog of doubt,

Taunting my fears and uncertainty.

They will not be silenced.

They slice, like a blade

In my mind.

I feel them

Behind my eyes:

Laughter hot as my tears;

Derision bitter as the bile on my tongue.

They sing to me sometimes at night:

Not lullabies;

Not kind.

Teasing

Behind my eyes.

Just daring me to cut them out…

~

Photo by Camila Quintero Franco on Unsplash