The Count, a lasting manifestation of awful villainy
in the domain of Dungeons and Dragons,
where he is not just a lord vampire, but a grave essence
of Barovia where the danger of dread gravitates,
reflecting him through the shroud of misty tragedy.
In moments of frenzy his tryst with darkness
configures his predator psyche into castle Ravenloft,
a momentous monument of unfulfilled thoughts,
shaped as unending flight of stairs winding inward
into the frigid vault where his mind resides.
He is not a despot of cosmic empire, but a hunter of heart,
a sovereign of shadows ruling a land of lone internment.
He is a cue that the darkest dungeons are not built of stones,
but of desire, defended by the memory
of a man created by his own darkness.
Descending a steel flight of stairs
Dawn breaking through sky so dark
Sun rising as I walk free from stares
On route to the swing set in the park.
AFTER TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY MANY CHANGES OCCUR FOR ME IT WAS COPING WITH ANXIETY VERTIGO ATTACK WHERE YOU FEEL LIKE YOU ARE ALWAYS ON A LEDGE FINALLY THE GROUND COMES UP TO MEET YOU THERE I WAS STANDING ON TOP OF A FLIGHT OF STAIRS RECOVERING FROM MY INJURIES FROM THE CAR CRASH PREPARING MYSELF FOR MASS SINGING IN THE CHIOR WHEN THIS OVERWHELMING FEELING DIZZY FRIGHTENING I FELT MYSELF FALLING I TRIED TO GRAB THE RAIL THERE WAS NO RAIL I FELL FROM THE TOP OF THE STAIR CASE TO THE CONCRETE GROUND FRACTURING HIP PELVIS LAYING THERE WITH INTERNAL BLEEDING PHYSICAL THERAPY CHIROPRACTIC CARE ORTHOPEDIC CARE NOW THE BONES ARE DEFORMED SEVERE PAIN AND SUFFERING I'M BLESSED MY HUSBAND TAKES GOOD CARE OF ME SURVIVING A CAR BOMB CRUSHED EYE SOCKET FRACTURED NASAL ARCH TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY I EVEN INJURED MY HIP FRACTURED HAND I TWO STROKES LEARNING TO WALK AGAIN I NEVER DREAMED I'D BECOME CRIPPLED JUST WAKE UP AND CAN'T MOVE MY LEGS UNABLE TO WALK UNABLE TO MOVE MY LEGS MY LOWER BODY GAVE OUT SEVERE ONGOING PAIN AND SUFFERING RECEIVING CARE SICKNESS AND HEALTH ANTHONY AND YOLANDA CATHOLIC WAR VETERANS
I am a book,
Some of its pages are hidden,
They hide in the night,
Their writings are from the deep.
I am a portrait,
Sombre colours depict me better,
They show the gloom that resides in my chamber,
They show the night I fight to tunnel through.
I am the moon,
Twilight summons me,
The night calls me to stand on the podium,
Sometimes my companions don’t stand with me.
I am a flight of stairs,
The higher I go,
The more view that enfolds,
They seem to come from obscurity.
I am a puzzle,
Each piece you find,
Propels you to search for more,
You’re bewildered by their complexities.
February 21, 2024.
good morning all
below is anther entry in honor of love and valentine's day
on a side not however
I have an aunt who my family and I are very close with
just before christmas she fell down a flight of stairs
she remains in the hospital
she has undergone a couple of surgeries
her therapy and recovery may take up a year
my point in all this is
my message to you all today is be aware of your footing and balance
plan your move before taking a step
may this day find you all safe and sound
and yes
happy valentine's day to all special couples everywhere
thank you...
"inside fantasies"
roses
candies
kisses
embraces
love
desires
emotions
dances
alongside many roses and embraces
together with desires and emotions
kisses of love dance inside fantasies
SkyWatcher
01-19-24
It's a beautiful evening as we wait in line to board our boat
Autumn is in the air we require a light coat
The Mississippi River waters rejoice in the glowing moonlight
We are greeted by the captain encouraging us to kick back and enjoy the night
Once aboard a flight of stairs, we must climb with a three-course dinner as our reward
The food arrives such a culinary delight with our glasses to welcome the wine soon to be poured
On deck a jazz band tunes up to create beautiful music we can dance to
Our chance to show our moves with perhaps something new
Our journey down the majestic river is about to begin
A paddle boat passes all lit up such a dazzling display
With all the stunning sights we are about to see along the way
A picture postcard we must create, lasting memories here to stay
Written: June 29, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Cockle, two hooves clung over a hundred brothers.
You discovered unmatched comfort such as no other.
An awl compiled your flight of stairs to a dynasty.
A lasting legacy of resilience and strength to foresee.
A hundred tides, over a thousand plovers of sunshine
You've witnessed a time journey and a legacy divine.
In the castanet you erected, you're overweight.
Memories are archived on a home limestone site.
Without us, you'd be as peaceful as dawn.
But we found your deeds, a ruby to fawn.
Witnessing your consciousness is a sight so rare.
As eyes leave your cheek, a glimmer, an affair
Saturn flashbulb lobes are viewed using a lens.
Stunning and appealing, transcendent loveliness
The snow breaks apart in a universe-wide ballet.
The rings are on exhibit; they are a marvelous display.
A motionless, tilted cap, a mark of your grace.
To learn how to leave things alone, embrace
Ocean Treasures A story underwater unfolds.
A quahog species, so ancient and bold.
My first appointment for P.T.
(To help my torn-meniscus knee)
Had me arriving at the same
Time as another with my name.
She entered with a loud complaint –
The elevator was too quaint
And so she’d walked a flight of stairs,
But locked doors caught her unawares.
Annoyed at forms for filling out,
“I need a pen!” she then did shout.
I quietly observed the scene,
Then stood when someone called, “Ilene!”
“But I’m Ilene!” she did insist.
She glared at me, a little pissed.
The clerk, though, took it all in stride.
“You’re both Ilenes,” she clarified.
Our name’s not often spelled with “I.”
I’m sure, like me, she wondered why
Coincidence or maybe fate
Brought us together on this date.
Reputed to be haunted she took their silly dare
She didn't believe the stories of a ghost that wandered there
The house had been a rental but no one stayed for long
And neighbour's started whispering that something there was wrong
Six years it's now stood vacant and the grounds are overgrown
And sometimes at the witching hour you'll hear a ghostly moan
With flashlight and a cell phone, she entered the old house
Then shrieked as it ran past her; a tiny little mouse
Her phone was set on filming as she checked the ground floor first
A cobweb gently brushed her cheek, she jumped and softly cursed
She started up a flight of stairs to film the second floor
But quickly bolted straight back down at the loud bang of a door
Although she didn't see a ghost the mouse and the door were enough
And so her short adventure there went on to fuel more stuff
Where dry walls turn to dust
they depart.
They enter as laughter.
They roost on struts and beams.
Rafters for each shinning feather
whether or not each feather is stiff or curly.
Flooring for the angelically inclined
is optional. Pin heads are perfect.
A house without an angel is a tomb
but be of good cheer,
they are everywhere, even in the bathroom
where they often rest with you.
Domestic housing only,
public and federal buildings
will never be up to their code
no matter how architecturally pleasing
for angels need a welcome mat
and a pleasant kitchen,
a roof that lets the pain run down
as rain to water garden seeds.
What else?
Their are tent angels and shanty angels,
homeless and under bridge angels.
Angels are houses for prayers,
In the Far East
folks erect Spirit Houses;
little shrines for holiness to occupy
same thing really,
a flight of stairs
for the starry-eyed helps,
but ranch and open-plan
span just as well
if each body within them
is a ringing temple bell.
When Our Time Has Come
Is it Sweet Dreams or Sweet Nightmares
And Can We Tell
As Who's the Hunter Or the most Hunted
Or Maybe It's just Who is Wanted
Up Here, Down There, Who Really Cares
As it's Just Another Flight of Stairs
Up Or Down, Which Way to Go
None Of Us really Knows
And Where Do we All Eventually Dwell
As I For One just Can't Tell
If There Is a Heaven
But I do believe there is a Netherworld
DAMO
You descend down the spiral flight of stairs,
floating in the cascade of blazing blue flame,
the ivory hands stoking up the fire of desire
as ember lust dances on the ballerina feet.
I see you glide like a flying blue fairy,
draped in mesmeric trance of azure grandeur,
but fail to fathom your demure dimension
in the oceanic depth of infinite mystery.
Like the aquamarine waves of swaying sea
you twirl on crests of ebullient exuberance.
In the drizzle of mystique night’s moondust
you sparkle like the bejeweled cobalt sky.
Soaked in the color of your sapphire flair
I reach the edge of expansive imagination,
where in the empty canvas of my heart,
in hues of indigo passion I paint my dreams.
December 17, 2019
Contest : Blue Dress
Sponsor : Anthony Slausin
She was the top-of-the-mark. A movie star. Wore dark glasses.
Wore a smile on her face no matter what.
Even after she lost her first baby
Because her husband threw her down a flight of stairs.
He is arrogant, rude, revered by his fans. A bully.
Prances around with an enormous ego.
Watching her out of the corner of his eyes
In case she missteps or gets out of line.
Sometimes the glamour we see
Exhibited for us, on a red carpet
With flashbulb happiness
Is not the real story.
You who are heavier
Than the mountain sides
You who collides with
Jupiter's stars
And you the universe what could be worse
Than crashing on streaming trains
Over water slides
Collapsing rivers running wide
Heavier than the mid-nights
Weighs more than cups of blacken ice
Heavier than aged peach cobbler
Heavier than the first foot soldiers
Feather
Heavier than the flight of stairs
Heavier than a cherishing child
Heavier than a raw hotdog
Made of beef, pork or turkey-roll heavier than a sailor's dream
Back to seas he sees his dawn
Longing for shore to walk on his own lawn
And just before night turns today
On his knees he does, he does pray
Heavier than the mid night
Dusk to dawn now there's light
All things must surcome the come right under heavier than a feeling in spite
Silken as in the light of leather heavy is the
Feather
06/08/15
Where a mountain meets the clouds,
a winsome smile and a whisper:
"Here am I, waiting."
Chubby faces pop out in the haze:
"We're at every step, helping."
While I gaze, goose bumps bristle
all over me; then a light shower,
the fog clears swiftly.
I see broad flight of stairs roll out,
racing up the steep mountain till
it punches through the clouds into...
At the smoking base a man grips
a shepherd's staff, eying the top.
Soon he jerks into firm brisk strides,
breezes up the rungs, face straight
as his figure fades into the glow.
Sweet ancient melody, sort of a ballad,
unbroken since the earth was green,
keeps streaming down—soft, soothing:
"Come up here, my beloved, come!"
I look up "Me?"
"Yes, get the focus right, the mind firm,
eyes on top the mount. Hold my grace,
ask for more; you sure will need.
"There's no mountain you can't scale,
nor are crags you can't heave over.
There's not a height beyond reach of grace,
though faith flounders under its shadow."
© 2017 Celestine S Ikwuamaesi
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