Details |
Heather Peck Poem
Snow-capped peaks stretch long shadows,
cropping the corners of lamp-lit valleys,
Stage to child-like haunts
and witness to forsaken cries;
They speak, as dreams, do
to the hidden, protected soul,
uncovering horrors unsecured
and fears realized, in solitude,
Dripping omniscient truth
frozen by day, light's serf,
but, in the master's absence,
rouses the ritual witch-dance,
which tickles my guilt,
boils my stew thoughts,
allowing demons to be affectionate.
Into myself, I welcome the dance.
Snow-capped peaks dim into shadows
as my lamp-lit nightmare ends
forsaken sobs are still like dreams
sleep cannot kill child-like haunts
Copyright © Heather Peck | Year Posted 2012
|
Details |
Heather Peck Poem
I hide from you ‘till sunrise.
The paling of the sky betrays me.
By day, reality turns the key
on fantastic creations of the mind,
but the night douses the flicker of reason.
In the night, miles are mere steps
and truth removes its costume
and, for once, leaves center stage
to mingle with the shadow creatures.
Why hide from limited opportunity?
Why does my lamp hold captive visions?
That night could be day,
and the dreamer dream on
with clouds as her walkway.
But dreams cannot satisfy, only intensify
a storybook ache reaching forward and back
where no fairy tales were found
because reality was night.
Copyright © Heather Peck | Year Posted 2012
|