Tag Archives: dream

Ladybug Dreams

I lived a little dream today as I watched a little ladybug atop my bathroom mirror. It comes by when I am feeling down. I have seen it quite a lot as of late. I hope you all enjoy this little dream of mine. Without further ado…

Ladybug Dreams

As that little ladybug trudges idly by,

I watch its little form.

By the mirror,

all the nearer,

I watch its little form.

Now, I go

down to the park

to run away

from the dark

and listen to the sound

of little bugs that gnaw at bark.

So at home

in the woods

and by the water,

you’d almost wonder:

Whatever made me travel farther?

Cicadas beat their little drums

and birds find time to scream,

while I myself will wonder:

Could it all just be a dream?

The Devil’s Hands Do Idle Work

Good afternoon, everyone. I’ve got a pretty solid little poem for you guys today. Little sad, little whatever. I hope you enjoy. Without further ado…

The Devil’s Hands Do Idle Work

Beautiful there,

as it was,

there at the end of the tunnel,

bleak as it is,

a glimmering light.

Fingers trace,

in the dark,

the cool, dripping walls

on the way to the light.

I am surrounded by a calamitous black.

I cannot see the etchings,

nor identify that liquid which covers them.

I am alone here,

unbidden,

clawing my way forwards unto that little hope,

that distant light.

The darkness drives me.

It is not the light that I seek,

but the dark that I fear might take me.

I listen to the droning footsteps of the cavalcade that follows me,

their pacing only feet behind.

My heart has long since stopped racing.

Adventures End

Good afternoon, everyone. I have another poem today (shocker). I really hope you like it. Without further ado…

Adventures End

There and back again,

as in the style of old hobbits,

we go and have our big adventures,

on our quest against the dark.

We fight with swords,

we fight with knives,

we sail on ships

and meet old wives.

We’ll tread along the untread paths

and we’ll make friends

and we’ll make enemies

and we’ll fight the dark

and we’ll never lose

till the soles fall off our shoes.

And then will come the cobblestones

that form the path to home.

Why have you fought all this time,

but for to see that little village

and that spongy loam.

Now though,

that you are home,

what is it then?

The thing you must do?

When tyrants bend

and adventures end,

does it all simply go back to normal?

Who is this one that stands before you?

The same one?

The old one?

No, I don’t think so.

Darkest Demesne

Good morning! I hope you guys are ready for a steaming helping of cosmic horror because, boy, have I been cookin’! If you’ve ever enjoyed Lovecraft or you like that movie Annihilation with Natalie Portman, you’ll probably dig this one. Let me know in the comments what you think. Without further ado…

Darkest Demesne

Atop the mountain

lies a fortress.

Beneath the stones,

lies a fountain.

~

Unnatural and indecipherable,

the masonry tells

the story of a being

whose presence trails

the very last of the bells.

~

In the dark,

It comes;

My master.

To quell the living disease.

Upon that stroke of midnight,

I make haste to the gate.

I whisk past maze-like halls

and labyrinthine corridors

to the old and battered door,

covered by runes and chains,

behind which It slumbers.

As I venture deeper into the dungeons,

where no light penetrates,

I begin to hear the distant, disembodied, interminable screams

that haunt my every waking moment;

I come upon the fountain.

The waters glow faintly with a distinct sickly, violescent purple.

My head, again, starts to pound as I draw near,

the intricate designs of the stonework calling out to me,

reaching out, yet again.

A sacrifice must be made.

I draw the sacrificial blade

and move it gingerly to my shaking, outstretched palm.

I make a ragged cut.

As my blood drips into the fountain,

the wailing quiets for a moment.

I am knocked from my feet by a gust of wind that tears at my skin like sandpaper;

all the while, Its howls reverberating throughout these dark and desolate halls.

This formless, black mass, blacker than the dark that surrounds, alights and descends again upon the town below.

It hungers.

It feeds.

I envy them as I watch the color fade from their faces

and the blood drain from their veins into the pool before me,

its purple waters now flowing crimson before my eyes.

I fade in and out of consciousness and find myself again in my bed,

in my chambers.

~

My torturous servitude remains immutable.

I am bound to these old cobbled stones and dark, cobwebbed halls.

I was once the lord of this castle,

but in my hubris,

in my… ambition,

I called upon powers most foul.

I cannot remember the last time I saw the light.

~

Now…

My master.

It calls again.

Peace On My Own Time

Good evening, everybody. Little later than my usual posts but I have a real nice one for you all to enjoy tonight. Side note: Did you know that “you all” as a plural form of “you” is a distinct feature of Kentucky and West Virginia english? Without further ado…

Peace On My Own Time

Beautiful lights

on beautiful nights

flitting over fluttering trees

and wispy puffs of cloud.

In the distance is heard

a siren,

far off,

as the blades of helicopters

slice through the sky.

What peace is this?

To know an evening of such bliss?

I am lost as I am found,

in the streets and in the trees

where weary heads would come to rest

beside the neighbors in their Sunday best.

Children play

in the street all day

just like I remembered.