Just the title.
Guten Tag und willkommen, Freunde. Ich habe hier für dich ein neues Werk. Ich hoffe, dass Sie mögen es. Ich habe sehr hart daran gearbeitet. Bitte genießen, meine Lieben. Mit ohne weitere Umschweifen…
There is a horse
With human eyes
~
too many, too short
those legs of that sort
~
The cavalry approaches
in Phantom Cavalcade
~
set there at the edge of the World
by hands that thought their conduct kind
~
I think they’ve gone and made me blind.
Good morning, everyone! I’ve got a post today that I think you’ll be quite fond of. Perhaps you’ll gain some insight, perhaps you’ll gain some enjoyment. Whatever the case, I think you’ll be intrigued. Without further ado… Please read responsibly.
Can you hear?
The sounding of the drum?
The beat,
the chorus?
Sitting there between the shadows,
kicking my feet at the edge of the world.
All alone now
in the quiet dark.
The contrast has never before felt quite so stark.
Those drums again,
there,
in the distance.
Can you hear them?
Hoofbeats that draw ever closer.
I think He’ll be coming soon.
No matter,
I needed the company.
Rhythmic tones beat in tune with every thump and thud
inside this broken God.
The motor’s out.
I’ll scream and shout.
No matter,
I needed the company.
Good morning, everyone. There is much I must take care of, much I have to worry about. In the meantime, I’ve a new poem for you all to consider. Without further ado, please enjoy.
Ghosts and specters swirl around
in graceful twirls they do abound,
with their cold touch they do surround,
now feeling lost but never found.
In the bin out there in back
on account of such that I did lack.
My head and hands these thoughts did wrack
on account of that thing which I did lack
and something there I’ll not get back.
I see the ghosts across the water…
Nay, upon the water.
My mind then starts to wander
about those things that hearts do ponder.
Philters and phials could not save
that man which breaks and makes insane;
there is some feeling that does not wane
no matter who the ghosts arraign.
Though it seems the tide is low,
the water tends to encroach slow.
Most decide to go
but while I’m still here,
I think I’d like to know.
Good afternoon, everyone. Have you ever looked into the twilight? Have you ever seen them? Those crepuscular things… Perhaps they look more sincerely into you. Without further ado:
No.
It is so.
They cannot see.
No, they cannot see.
Those things that find their way
into these eyes of mine.
They do not know.
How those ghosts cry out…
No, they cannot see them.
They cannot hear them.
Their cries,
their screams.
They cannot see those eyes,
the eyes of ghosts
inside their hosts.
I have seen the dark,
how those ghosts traverse it.
Caught between the night and day,
it’s past their time
with nothing to say.
No, they cannot see them.
But these ghosts, these specters,
they haunt my nights
and stalk my days.
Perhaps it is so
that I am among them,
watching and waiting
for my time again.
Caught between the night and day
in that little place
with nothing to say.
Good morning, everyone. A little post-halloweekend post for you to have a little fun with. That’s my piece for today. Without further ado…
This boy,
he sparkles in the light.
Oh, how the night
gives him quite the fright.
Scared and alone,
he cannot condone
dialing a number…
Hearing the dial tone.
There he is!
In that box.
So filled it is
with pus and pox.
Walls of glass
so he can see
as things go by
and things go past.
All the while
this placid smile
plastered with that porcelain guile.
Won’t you just… stay a while?
There.
By the window.
He sees your face go past.
Perhaps this time
it won’t be the last?
There abounds a certain sadness
within which lies a certain badness
centered on that box of madness.
These walls of glass,
these eyes of brass,
should not this boy be like a doll,
always filled with gladness?
Poems by Sam