A COLD WITCHES’ BREW

 

A paradise is now lost and gone,

never to be found again.

Whomever the demons come upon,

no more peace but only pain.

Like a cold witches’ brew,

an Oasis for all.

Now a hell for the few

who remain to tell all.

THE DEAD GAME

by Susanne Leist

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

WHO BELIEVES IN MAGIC?

Mountain Goat by nigel3

Who believes in magic?

Fairies?

Unicorns?

They are part of our dreams.

Here’s to fairy dust, wizards, and vampires.

Witches, demons, and monsters.

Without them,

there would be no dreams

or nightmares.

TEA FOR TWO

areyou-stillawake
Banana Brain – Die Antwoord

Tea for two.

One for me.

One for you.

Mine is sweet.

Yours is not.

Some good sleep

from this old pot.

LAMENT FOR THE DEAD

LAMENT FOR THE DEAD

Like a cold witches’ brew.
An Oasis for all.
Now a hell for the few,
Who remain to tell all.

Warm winds turn cold
As all become prey.
The young and old. 
For them, we must pray. 

Hell hath no fury
Like a demon scorned.
There is no jury
For a small town mourned.

Who will save Oasis
From ‘The Dead’ demons?
Who will now face us,
More dead or demons? 

Pray for us.
We are alone 
Come save us.
We must atone. 

THE DEAD GAME

Kindlehttp://amzn.to/1lKvMrP
Nook http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

THE MIGHTY SPELL

kaltmesser1

Mare (live in Kraków)

A spot of evil.

A dash of hell.

A flicker of candlelight.

A skull or two.

Are you prepared

To fight The Dead?

Don’t forget your spell book.

A mighty spell can take them down.

THE DEAD GAME

Kindle
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

Nook
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

THE PERFECT HUE

zandraart

beneath the sea floor

THE PERFECT HUE

The road extends to the sea,

where creatures can roam free.

Blue tinges the sky and flowers,

an indigo of dark powers.

The town lies ahead,

where I’ll lay my head.

Dreams will take me away

to a place with no gray.

Only bright colors for my day

in this new place, I want to stay.

Fear not the witches in the night,

but enjoy each day as you might.

An Oasis waits now for you,

a rainbow in a perfect hue.

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist 

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP   http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj 

BEYOND THE GATE

Source:weheartit.com

A gate in the woods,

Majestic between the trees.

A doorway asks to be crossed.

A force pulls me to the other side.

Cold air tingles on my bare skin.

Grass crunches beneath my feet.

Sounds are magnified.

New smells stream through my nostrils.

I feel alive.

I feel strong.

I feel empowered.

I walk to meet The Dead.

I sense their presence.

The night brings them.

I will face them.

They will rule no more.

THE DEAD GAME

Kindle

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

Nook

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

Book 2 will determine their fate.

WITCHCRAFT

A town living on the brink,
even with flowers bright pink.
Magic flows through the air.
Witchcraft is all too near.
THE DEAD GAME 

THE WITCHING HOUR

coraljustice Deactivated 

It’s the witching hour

Welcome to the witching hour

As witches amass their power.

They are good for Oasis.

Know them on first-name basis.

I cannot promise or swear,

But they’ll rid The Dead from here.

They can cast spells to kill The Dead.

Better than hiding in your bed.

Beautiful they are all.

This night The Dead will fall.

THE DEAD GAME

http://myBook.to/TheDeadGame

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

WHO SITS THERE?

Source: slobbering 

WHO SITS THERE?

Who sits there in the darkness?

No movement in the blackness.

As still as a fox waiting to pounce.

No hint of a ruffle or a flounce.

A soft sigh can be heard in the air.

Are those slithering snakes in her hair?

Shadows coast along with the circling dust.

The walls trickle with blood or maybe rust.

The ghostly form stands up to meet us.

She can be the hostess to greet us.

A deserted house this seems to be.

She hovers over us like a tree.

We stand alone in this bleak hall.

There won’t be dancing at this ball.

All the candles go dark.

This was a silly lark.

Time to leave this creepy place.

We must quicken our slow pace.

But since this is a horror story.

We won’t be leaving soon with glory.​

CHANTING IN THE BREEZE

 

A breeze blows from the ocean.

One that smooths the white sand.

Feeling like the soft flutter of

a rose petal against your skin.

The sea breeze carries chanting.

Why do we hear it at night?

Are spells being cast in Oasis?

Only The Dead know and they’re not talking.

THE DEAD GAME