WHERE THE WIND BLOWS

WHERE THE WIND BLOWS

The trees of the forest shiver and shake.

Their long limbs tremble from the next quake.

Their bodies blaze a frosted white.

With tears frozen from their new plight. 

The world has become hard and cold.

My trembling body feels old.

I’m surrounded on four sides by white. 

The bright glare has blinded my sight.

White is the color of my nightgown

As I stand and shiver with a frown.

A shadow emerges from the trees.

I hope it is not him, pretty please.

My body moves forward against my will.

I grab a thick tree and try to hold still.

I dig my feet into the packed snow,

But I must go where the wind might blow.

THE ECHO OF FOOTSTEPS

Night comes slowly.

Footsteps fall softly.

Boats drift on the water.

A cat meows.

Footsteps hit closer.

A splash in the water.

Footsteps echo louder.

An oar hits the water.

Chains rattle.

Closer footsteps.

I turn.

A flash of light.

Silence.

A boat sits in the dark water,

Filled with flowers

And my true love.

DON’T TOE THE LINE

 

Source:onezia

DON’T TOE THE LINE

A road that’s not taken

is a road forsaken.

Do not turn your face

from the hectic race.

Follow the bright lights

to achieve great heights.

Don’t hang your head in fear,

for your time is now here.

Take your place in the curving line

of others who won’t toe the line.

Rev up your engine and soar

with your foot pressed to the floor.

You have only one chance

in life to sing and dance.

Let this be your time

not to toe the line.

NOTHING TO FEAR

ANDERS KRISÁR

An open door waits for you.

Take a chance and walk right through.

Mist circles your frame.

Time to play the game.

The chess pieces wait.

Take care, you’re not late.

You rub your eyes in disbelief

as you sigh in happy relief.

This can’t be happening, you see.

I’m in bed as the sun breaks free.

A brand new day yawns wide and clear.

I’m safe and have nothing to fear.

FROZEN WITH PAIN

A town where the snow is black,

bringing coldness & fear.

Old remnants of tears held back

& times too hard to bear.

Woven from black sheets of rain,

fear covers in disarray.

Anguished & frozen with pain,

dark petals fall in dismay.

THE DEAD GAME SERIES

NOTHING TO FEAR

You tell me there’s nothing to fear

since The Dead will soon be here.

Waves cascade to the shore.

I don’t believe The Dead’s lore.

Nothing can ruin this paradise.

Yet, cold fear runs through me like ice.

Now, the winds quicken their speed,

but I still refuse to heed.

I give a last glance at the trees,

and they are falling to their knees.

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP  

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

WHERE THE WIND BLOWS

The trees of the forest shiver and shake,

their long limbs trembling from the last quake.

Their bodies blaze a glaring white

with tears frozen from their new plight. 

The world has become hard and cold.

My trembling body feels old.

Surrounded on four sides by white, 

the bright glare blinded my sight.

White is the color of my nightgown

as I stand and shiver with a frown.

A shadow emerges from the trees.

I hope it is not him, pretty please.

My body moves forward against my will.

I grab a thick tree and try to hold still.

I dig my feet into the packed snow,

but I must go where the wind might blow.

THE CRIMSON REFLECTION

 

Source:travel-story

The sky dips into its bag of tricks

to bring forth a full moon,

as its crimson reflection

mars the ocean’s smooth surface.

From the water’s murky depths,

dark creatures rise this night.

Onto our crisp white shores, they walk,

leaving bloody footprints in the sand,

painting our town crimson,

beneath the blood-red moon.

THE DEAD GAME 

I LONG TO TOUCH HIS FACE

trevorme

I see him in my mind’s eye.

He is dead, and so am I.

He floats alone in the ocean.

I have taken the dark potion.

His body slowly drifts near,

A countenance without fear.

I long to touch his face,

Not of the human race.

My spirit glides free.

And soon, so shall he.

FROM THE DEEP

They come from the deep.

They come when you sleep.

On waves of ice and stone,

They’ll burn you to the bone.

Fire burns hot on the ice

As demons cut a deep slice.

Stay far from the shore,

Or they’ll search for more.

THE DEAD GAME SERIES by Susanne Leist

WITHOUT FEAR

trevorme

I see him in my mind’s eye.

He is dead, and so am I.

He floats alone in the ocean.

We have taken the dark potion.

He drifts near,

Without fear.

I long to touch his face,

Not of the human race.

My spirit glides free.

And soon so shall he.

WHERE THE WINDS BLOW

The trees of the forest shake,

their limbs fearing the next quake.

Their thick trunks glisten in white,

with tears frozen from their plight. 

Surrounded on four sides by white, 

the bright glare has blinded my sight.

A shadow emerges from the trees.

I hope it is not him, pretty please.

My body moves forward against my will.

I grab a tree trunk and try to hold still.

I dig my feet into the packed snow,

but I must go where the wind will blow.

AN ISLAND ESCAPE

 

Take me from a world without color,
where life can be dull and grey.
I want to swim through the ocean’s waves,
where rainbows frolic and play.

The sun’s rays shimmer on the water,
leaving trails of gold, yellow, and red.
Beacons of light for me to follow,
to a new land where to lay my head.

Who lives on this small island?
It’s time for me to explore.
I see a hut of branches.
I must see if there is more.

I walk across the pale pink sand
to the small hut and step inside.
The room is dark, without windows.
I check to see what it may hide.

A man saunters into the room.
At the table, places are set.
He turns to me with a huge grin,
as if I am his new prized pet.

He makes an abrupt movement
and strides across the dark room.
He kisses me with cold passion
under the blood-red moon.

I swam across the ocean

to find a new shore.

But here I am again

in his arms once more.