A GARDEN

Source:hooke-r 

Frozen in place.

Dripping tears for centuries.

Memories of a lifetime.

Praying for salvation.

A frown for eternity.

A garden for The Dead.

THE DEAD GAME

IT SITS ALONE IN THE GARDEN

Source:imgfave-herokuapp-com.global.ssl.fastly.net 

How sad is this statue?

Tears dripping down its body.

It sits alone in the garden.

A heart frozen to its core.

Its eyes closed in sadness.

For a savior long and gone.

It sits alone in the garden.

Waiting for help from beyond.

Tears fall ever so slowly.

Freezing close to the ground.

It sits alone in the garden.

Its silent sighs in the wind.

It bows its head in prayer.

For a savior not found.

It sits alone in the garden.

No one else around.

ALONE

Walking alone in

a cemetery at night.

The mist swaying.

The wind moaning.

Shadows appearing.

Then disappearing.

Leading me somewhere. 

Or maybe following me.

A statue looms ahead.

A tall statue.

Taller than the mausoleums.

 It’s moving.

Coming closer.

Time to run.

Walking in a graveyard at night

may not have been such a good idea.

Ouch!

It scratched me!

THE STATUE

The statue waits.

Frozen in its tears.

Standing in the cold.

Weathering all storms.

Will someone come for it?

Will it be saved?

Questions not to be answered.

Only to be thought by the dead.

Source:darkestdee

THE RAVEN'S LAST CHANCE

nitratediva:

Bela Lugosi recites some Poe in The Raven (1935).

The raven sits quietly while Lugosi reads the lines.
It sits as still as a lifeless statue.
But what if it isn’t lifeless?
What if it’s just waiting?
Waiting for the actor
to stop droning on.
For the room to become quiet
so that he could pounce.
The way he was supposed to
in The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe.
He must perform for his namesake.
The world could use one less actor.
Couldn’t it?
Swoosh…

TURNED TO STONE

enyaja:

TURNED TO STONE


I have turned to stone.

I’m chilled to the bone.

The coldness is spreading.

Where can this be heading?

Please help me.

You can see.

Life is at its end.

I can’t even bend.

Who’s my deadly foe?

I still need to know.

Leave me be.

You shouldn’t see

What I’ve become.

Leave and be gone.

TURNED TO STONE

enyaja:

TURNED TO STONE


I have turned to stone.

I’m chilled to the bone.

The coldness is spreading.

Where can this be heading?

Please help me.

You can see.

Life is at its end.

I can’t even bend.

Who’s my deadly foe?

I still need to know.

Leave me be.

You shouldn’t see

What I’ve become.

Leave and be gone.

A MONUMENT

mountain-sadist:

 
A Monument

Rushing water.
Striking the shore.
Creating art of its own.
A monument for all eternity.
Forever more.

DEAR STATUE

DEAR STATUE

So alive.
I could hear you breathing.
Is that a moan?
Maybe it was the wind.
Is that a rustle of clothing?
Maybe someone else is in the garden.
Is that a sigh?
I heard a sigh.
Are you tired of standing still?
Is that a tear on your cheek?
Your eyes look sad.
Reflecting a remorse so deep
that I can feel it.
What else do I feel?
A whisper of breath on my face.
Are you breathing, dear one?
Are you alive beneath the stone?
Raise your head.
Look me in the eye.
It’s time to be free.
Let your soul be free
and soar above on your wings.
Take flight, dear one.
Take flight.

IS IT ALIVE?

Why is the statue moving?
Is a wind ruffling its wings?
I hear a sigh.
Maybe a murmur.
Can it be speaking to me?
Is it lifting its head?
Is it looking at me?
Its eyes are sparkling.
Sparkling a green color.
Its body is shifting on its stand.
Time to run.
Time to leave this house of horrors.
Let’s get out of here.
Before The Dead play their games.
I don’t want to play anymore.


THE DEAD GAME
Kindle
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

Nook
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

THE STATUE

THE DEAD GAME

What a beautiful garden.
The moon is shining down from above.
The wind is rustling the leaves.
It is quiet.
I’m alone.
The silence is broken
by crying sounds.
I thought I was alone.
The rest of the guests are inside.
There are statues up ahead.
Wait.
One statue is bent over.
It’s an angel.
And it’s crying.
With real tears.
How could this be?
It could be if it’s Oasis.
Stranger things
have happened here.
Do these statues
come alive at night
and become one of The Dead?
Have they been
stalking us at night?
She’s lifting her head.
I’m getting out of here.
Kindle
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

Nook
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

THE RAVEN'S LAST CHANCE

nitratediva:

Bela Lugosi recites some Poe in The Raven (1935).

The raven sits quietly while Lugosi reads the lines.
It sits as still as a lifeless statue.
But what if it isn’t lifeless?
What if it’s just waiting?
Waiting for the actor
to stop droning on.
For the room to become quiet
so that he could pounce on him.
The way he was supposed to
in The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe.
He must perform for his namesake.
The world could use one less actor.
Couldn’t it?
Swoosh…

THE WATCHFUL EYE

The beauty.
The colors.
The design.
The fine details.
The watchful eye.
No picture can be painted
or statue created to capture
this perfection,
this awe-inspiring wonder.
Here’s to the creator.

ALONE IN A CEMETERY

Would you walk alone in
a cemetery at night?
With the mist swaying
and the wind moaning.
Shadows appearing before you
and then behind you.
Are they leading you somewhere or
following in your hesitant footsteps?
A statue looms in the distance.
A very tall statue.
Taller than any of the
gravestones or mausoleums.
Now the statue is moving,
coming closer to me.
Time to run!
Walking in a graveyard at night
didn’t turn out to be such a good idea.
Ouch!
It scratched me!