onsdag 15 september 2010

The Fifteenth Day of September in the Year of our Lord 2010

I woke to another gray day,
full of mist and rain.
The windows with water stain,
and my body in pain.

Outside the mist was swirling
silently thru the trees.
Leaving everything it touched in
a damp freeze.

And there,behold,from the dancing mist!
A phantom starts to form,
a creature from despair and darkness
It´s very being vibrating with scorn.

It sits on top of the bookcase,peering down at me.
I wonder,In it´s minds eye what does it see?
Does it even bother to acknowledge me?
Or am I just a shadow in the outskirts of it´s life-
a mere trifle.

Suddenly in a burst of energy,
it leaps from the bookcase and races thru the room.
Sending everything in it´s way to it´s doom.

So it continues until noon,
sprinting thru kitchen and living room.
Then as suddenly as it started,it stops.
It hurls itself onto the carpet with a chilling scream,
and then lies quietly, as if it´s mad rampage has never been.

It lies there staring at me for a while,
it´s eyes oozing with bile.
Then turns and enters it´s cave,
never to be seen for the rest of the day.

In the cave it made out of my bedspread,
it rests it´s wicked head.
Surely thinking of ways to
make me a little more dead.

onsdag 1 september 2010

The First Day of September in the Year of our Lord 2010
Colder winds and nature dressed in colours bright,
means autumn has arrived with fair lady September
walking in front of the line.
And all that can be heard of the Beast
is a low growl coming from deep inside it´s mine.

While she´s painting the world in colours lush-
It lies sulking on a pillow made of plush..
Longing for the days of summer,
thinking that autumn is such a bummer.

Remembering when innocent June stroke it´s fur
with sunshine warm and bright.
Caressing it with her light.

Beautiful July with flowers in her hair.
Making the air ripe the yummy smells
of roses,grass and fish-Theese are the smells it´s gonna miss.

Finally August always laughing and full of fun.
Making it easy chasing magpies and squirrels on the run.

But now those days are gone.
All that are left are the distant songs of what once was.
Like the lawn now by September covered in soft moss.