You were aging by nights.
Days will not seek
to defend you.
Drawing the landscape
of a snowfall,
you will die in a portrait.
The world meets
you again like a jawless
lamprey with sucker mouth.
Beyond the blues
lies a tower, where
you will not find the stairs.
In battlefield, stands
the army of red ants, ready
to pound upon the moonlight.
Satish Verma
Looking out the window
At the street below
Watching life go by
As a strong wind begins to blow
People shielding their eyes
As dust whips up with surprise
Willy willy’s zigzag
As dirt partially blocks the skies
Keep your mouth shut, don’t inhale
As the dust becomes a veil
Coughing, choking, gagging
People stumbling in the gale
The street below in chaos
Nature showing who is boss
Unforgiving, unrelenting
Sane minds at a loss
Panic sets in...need shelter
People running helter skelter
Calm at last behind the glass
Safe, away from the assaulter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
©copyright Juanita Torr
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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A. W. Nutter
As the suns rays take flight
Pain, mere moments away
Fear grows with the twilight
As a demon prepares to play
No concern of retribution
Atrocities becoming ageless
Habitual, nightly persecution
Cloaked in a veil of righteousness
The barn door slowly opens
Oil lamp illuminates the boy
His eyes black as a ravens
As he views his captive toy
Crying out, from a cold caress
Prompts the demons laughter
Salvation absent for the godless
No mercy from the assaulter
Screams providing gratification
The final act being orchestrated
Priest praying for absolution
For sins already committed
The child’s heart surrenders
Resting in a shallow grave
Safe from religious pretenders
No longer a reprobates slave
Children losing their innocence
Causing the flock to lose hope
False prophet preaching temperance
Pedophiles protected by the Pope
They heard the shrillness of my cry,
So they ran to the door with tear stained cheeks.
No knowledge of the blood stained wall,
No knowledge of what happened at all.
And I with my loss of recollection,
in the pool of red where my fingers bled.
Now the white wall is crimson,
and the blood flows from my twisted nose
free out the window my assaulter goes.
Still the mirror is in its place
a reminder that I survived, we nod.
A reminder that we're alive,
preserved by God.
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