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Brooke Allen Poem
When I see those eyes,
They’re filled with lifeless lies.
It’s no wonder his skin is like ice.
He tells me, “Come closer,”
His promise of wealth wins me over,
But then I see the black blood running through his veins.
He says, “Five years, then it’s time for more games.”
It’s now year six,
This monster finds comfort in the pain he inflicts.
The tormenting things I’ve seen,
His toxicity poisoning my dreams.
It leaves me in a cold, wet sweat.
He steals me away because of a forgotten debt,
My pleas and sorrows pave the path to his inferno.
In the distance I see a burrow,
He leads me down the dark, wet cave,
Fires emerge- I find myself wishing for my grave,
They bathe my eyes, I shut them tight,
But he promises that the fires won’t bite.
I gaze into his Hell engulfed in raging flames,
The fires beckon me closer with their playful games.
My muscles tense and my body aches as his evils fill a dense lake,
The bodies swimming give me life.
I begin to see that maybe he’s all right.
I feel my body start to change,
A wave of power surges my derange.
This Hell pries open up my eyes,
It shows me all of his lifeless lies.
It chills me to my very core,
Just one sip from the sea of dead- and then I will be no more.
The new air I breathe,
The new scent I smell,
It’s almost as if the Earth is now Hell.
He fooled me just once, but the reward so sweet,
Prepare for a fight- I can’t be beat.
He thinks I’m grateful, but he shouldn’t hold his breath,
Remember, “You have the black blood, I have the red.”
The fury I have is stronger yet,
He’s about to regret that forgotten debt.
I’m losing control as reality slips,
This boiling being flips the switch.
I see a reflection- surely it can’t be me,
Those must be his lifeless eyes rippling back at me.
My stomach twists and my head spins,
But I’m on a mission that requires a win.
I’m in a dark hole- there’s no turning back,
With one swift whack, I put a knife in his back.
Copyright © Brooke Allen | Year Posted 2015
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Brooke Allen Poem
My body feels weak.
The dryness in my mouth is like a desert.
Although I feel water beneath me, my mouth won’t move an inch towards it.
I hear rustling inside this black hole.
The sound of footsteps drawing near sends confusion coursing through my mind.
Who could this person be?
How did they find me?
I try to open my eyes, to talk, to do anything to show I am alive.
But, the signs never appear.
I feel lips on my cheek as I hear you speak.
The silky voice sends memories shooting through my mind.
Aria.
I feel my heart rate jolt.
I try to scream, “Aria! I’m alive!”
But, of course, the words never escape my lips.
I hear the splashing of water and I hear you grow farther away.
“No! Please don’t go. Please,” I try to say.
Whatever hope that was still in my heart was just shattered like glass falling on concrete.
Wait, Aria wouldn’t leave me.
She went to get help!
I will be saved before the next day’s sun shows its light.
Thank you, Aria.
I owe you my life.
***
The rage inside of me is almost too much to bear.
The boiling fury inside my body is lava erupting from a volcano.
Aria never came back.
She left me in this well to rot.
I can’t seem to get away from the darkness of this never ending nightmare.
Only one question sears in my mind.
Why?
How could my best friend do this to me?
When I get out I will go after her.
I will uncover the impossible way to escape this hell.
I’m coming, Aria.
I’m coming.
Copyright © Brooke Allen | Year Posted 2012
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Brooke Allen Poem
I was completely helpless to the crushing weight of my eyes being closed shut as the creeping darkness slowly cascaded its claws up and down my limp body.
Images flooded my mind fogging my sense of reality.
A woman stood with her back facing me at the end of a strange street.
The bottom of her white ankle length dress rippled across her legs as the icy wind flowed through the street.
Her curly red hair reached the long of her back and it too danced in the wind.
Numerous branches from willow trees outlined the sides of the streets forcing me in only one direction: straight.
The light from the moon started flickering like an old street lamp heaving out the remainder of its energy.
I looked up at the sky and saw the crescent moon grow dimmer.
The mysterious woman turned her head to the side and snapped her fingers- darkness.
I cocked my head frantically in every direction trying to find anything but darkness.
Footsteps approached me.
I threw my hands in front of myself trying to feel for any way out.
Nowhere to run.
A cry of frustration escaped my lips as no escape route showed itself.
Something sharp sliced at my arm.
I could hear the blood splatter on the cold ground.
My cries of pain filled in the silence.
My heart pounded in my ears and my nails dug into my palms trying to control my hysteria.
Suddenly several sets of long grimy fingers grabbed at every inch of my body.
A hand covered my mouth to muffle my screams.
Another hand grabbed at my nose- suffocating me.
Nausea creeped its way into my stomach.
A spell of dizziness caused my legs to quiver and give up.
I shut my eyes and thought of a place where joy replaced fear.
Silence filled the air again, I hesitantly opened my eyes.
A new scene slowly revealed itself as my eyes pried open.
Continued onto another post- "Sleep Part 2"....
Copyright © Brooke Allen | Year Posted 2015
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Brooke Allen Poem
You beautiful world
The creatures it possesses
Bringing me wonder
Copyright © Brooke Allen | Year Posted 2012
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Brooke Allen Poem
My heart pounds through
my chest as I know the end is near
The smell of blood becomes
overwhelming
The sound of my enemy drawing
closer
His black as night boots walking
over the grass crunching the leaves
The suspense building
My hope is a sinking boat in the
middle of the ocean
I hear his footsteps halt next to my
limp body
Smirking with his malicious lips he
points the weapon towards me
This is it
I feel the faith in my heart drop into
nothingness
I hear the whoosh of the weapon and
I give up, but then I see it
A beautiful light that seems to be
giving me courage
Time stops as in that light I see him
The love I have cherished for years
pushes its way back into my heart
I feel my bones tense as my strength
returns
It’s like an ocean has flown into
every ounce of my body returning my
humanity
I hear his voice inside my head
telling me to fight
I grab the weapon with the rich taste
of victory in my mouth
The agonizing pain leaves my body
as if I had received a remedy
I look into his black eyes, ready to
strike, but they suddenly start
drifting away
Darkness begins to creep in
I fall to the ground so hard- my
breath knocked out
I take one last glimpse of his eyes,
they begin to glow blood red with
anger
Then, while gasping for air, I wake
up.
Copyright © Brooke Allen | Year Posted 2012
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Brooke Allen Poem
The ability to stay calm is a hard task to manage.
The wooden bench I am sitting on creaks with every
move I make. Each creak stabs my ears.
The open wilderness surrounding me has a sinister face
it likes to hide.
The strong wind blows my loose papers- they scatter.
Unable to finish-
The heat rises. My cheeks burn.
My breath turns into sharp intakes
like pine needles in my throat.
The dead grass pounds underneath my feet as I break
its calm state.
The dreaded wind echoes in my ear, taunting me.
I stand from the bench as a chill zig zags through
my body. I must find the papers.
The terrifying journey begins- the trees open
up with an ugly grin.
I ball my fists and an unpleasant mist fills my vision.
The coppery rotten smell of wet, decaying tree stumps
causes dizziness to invade my head.
The twigs break under my feet.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
The papers, I must find, I must finish-
Page two I now possess, maybe this isn’t
such a mess. However, no other white is visible within
the blur of green and brown.
A small blue jay flutters its wings to elevate,
but the freedom never prevails.
I feel the sweat creep on my neck and forehead.
I stand at a pause. I take a deep breath
and break the silence. I jump at my own sound.
I’m getting off track, I must finish the poem.
The wind comes again. I crouch on my knees
and watch as the mocking white petals from
the Cornus float up above me.
My heart sinks as dread fills my body.
As the wind dies down, the eerie mist appears again, I see
long fingers in the mist reaching toward me.
Instead of running, I decide to lay.
I feel the dew from the leaves crawl up my spine. The
green all around me forces turmoil in my stomach.
It’s as if the pages still residing in my head are slowly
withering away.
No white.
None.
Just the petals, the beautiful, lying petals.
I rest my head on the moss-ridden rock lying beside me.
Looming above my head is the thick mist, but I can see
a silhouette towering over me, there stands an oak tree.
There are dead leaves on the ground from the oak under
my fingers. They seem peaceful.
They escaped the mist’s clutches- they’re the lucky ones.
Maybe I could be like them- lying here forever.
The crushing debt shows no mercy as each
breath comes in slower.
The mist gets thicker with each fast throb of my heart.
The ability to stay calm is a hard task to manage.
I must finish-
Copyright © Brooke Allen | Year Posted 2015
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Brooke Allen Poem
I was in a meadow.
Sunflowers covered every inch of the tall grass.
A smile formed on my lips as the comfort of safety unveiled itself.
I breathed in the air and bent over to smell a sunflower- bliss.
I turned around to see what else lied in the meadow and a gasp escaped my lips.
It was the woman from the street.
Her hair flamed and my skin sizzled with every step she took as she got closer and closer.
Her nose slightly grazed over my own.
She lifted her hands up to her hair- her fingers ignited.
Her fingers clamped on to my wrists and my loud screech echoed around the meadow and the woman belted a cruel laugh as my wrists instantly scabbed.
She grabbed my face and forced me to look into her sinister black eyes.
I felt my cheeks melting away.
For the first time I looked directly into her pale face.
Burn scars zig zagged across her forehead in a strange pattern.
My eyes grew wide as I realized the pattern was of a pentagram.
I looked into her eyes and found myself unable to look away.
Inside her eyes a scene took place.
I saw myself.
I saw her.
She plunged a knife into my heart.
My body shook uncontrollably as I saw myself perish.
I regrettably moved my eyes down her body to see a shining and jagged dagger in the bony hand of the fiery woman.
She smiled a crooked smile and I could see her yellow teeth rotting away.
The anguish of defeat filled my body and I felt my strength melt away, seeping out of every pore.
A scorching pain found its way to my torso.
I looked down and saw a dagger protruding out of my stomach.
Blood seeped down my body- staining my clothes and the beautiful grass that was once a pure green.
A salty tear fell from my eyes as my body hunched over the blade.
The woman kneed my cheek and then I suddenly found myself in another scene.
This time in my bedroom.
My blue curtains swayed in the corner as the open window greeted the icy winds.
Sweat stained my shirt and my heart felt as if it might explode because of its extreme rate.
I gazed around my dark bedroom and realized the comfort of safety found its way back into my sleep once again.
Copyright © Brooke Allen | Year Posted 2015
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Brooke Allen Poem
Death is something we all fear
Yet, I’ve heard when you grow older the fear dissipates
Some think death is peaceful
Others think it’s their worst nightmare
Some say they will see the pearly gates open wide and God will be there waiting
Others say a fiery pit is in the midst of their future
Me, I don’t know
Could heaven and hell be a fabrication?
Or could they be truer than the sun?
Do each of us have a destiny nature follows?
So many questions…
Is it true that when you die your questions are answered?
Or is there bitter disappointment?
So many questions…
I guess the truth of the matter is only a deceased person can answer these questions
We are stuck in the dark until the final moments of our last breath.
Copyright © Brooke Allen | Year Posted 2012
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Brooke Allen Poem
Writing is freedom
An escape from this chaotic world
Your pen gliding across the paper
Each perfect word carefully chosen
Magical thoughts appearing in your mind
Your hand aching- but not caring
The pen halting to a stop
Your eyes moving back and forth rereading your masterpiece
A sweet taste consumes your mouth as you say, “Man that’s good”
Deciding no more revisions will do you justice
You stow it away in a journal for only your eyes to read.
Copyright © Brooke Allen | Year Posted 2012
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Brooke Allen Poem
Run.
Run from what you ask?
That my friend, is something you never want to know
That face
Those eyes that could make a heart stop beating
He was getting closer
The more I ran the darker this unknown place seemed to appear
Finally my fear became a reality
A wall
This one obstacle I so feared showed its sinister face
I slowly turned to look at this man that found pleasure in tormenting me
With one swift move he pinned me to the wall
I felt his hot breath on my warm cheek
I tightly shut my tear rimmed eyes wishing this would disappear
Wishing he would disappear
Wishing I could disappear
And then I did
Copyright © Brooke Allen | Year Posted 2013
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