Monthly Archives: December 2011

Home (Picture it & write #10 Christmas Edition!)


Picture it and write!

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2011/12/25/__picture-it-write-and-merry-christmas/

Frostbite’s nip

Is not quite enough

To silence the footsteps

Of a traveler

Long forgotten,

Long awaited.

An unwelcoming land

Behind and ahead,

He hangs his head,

And sings away the chill.

The wind will bite,

And try as he might,

He will not escape,

He knows his plight,

But frostbite’s bite

Might not have the might

To stop the venture

Of a lonely believer,

Who follows a star

Home

This Christmas night.


A Masked Man’s War


Tonight Tonight.

The night long-awaited.

Moon risen, sun gated,

Daylight sublimated.

Tonight Tonight.

The faces are twisted,

Moonbeams cresting smooth brows,

Ceramic facades,

Darkened eyes, hungry mouths

Beings locked in feeding frenzy,

Smiles cast in stone,

Relentless amusement,

Grotesque expressions

Silently expecting

The coming affair.

Carnival’s dreadful snare.

A Masked Man’s War

 


Crimson Shoulders


Rain falls

On crimson shoulders.

It gets them wet,

They’ll have to be dried,

Once I get home.

This jacket is new,

But the situation is faded.

The grim and jaded

Rain

Falling

On crimson shoulders.


The Midnight Poet


The midnight poet

Blindly thrashes about

He gets no sleep

Instead he writes

Each word

Labouriously

Upon his touch screen phone

Conjures drawn out works

With

Very

Short

Lines,

With eloquent and baffling

Language,

With Capitol Letters

Highlighting Important Words.

And all the while,

While lying awake,

He hopes

Someone

Might read

And understand

The thrashing of

His

Worn

Out

Mind.

Do You?


Captive at Sea


A lifeless beach surrounds me.

The blackened night spread thickly over the shore.

An empty sea greets my eyes as I look out.

I give into an urge to cry for companion.

I shout.

Hello!

I am certain no one will answer.

An empty sea does not speak to its captives.

The sand is dry, slightly cool.

My eyes are dry, they clutch the horizon.

The sea is so flat, so vast, it astonishes me.

All I can see.

Nothingness.

This time, I do not cry.

I know I’m alone.

Trapped in a bottle at sea

My island and me.


Soot and Man


Slipping the rope around Our neck.

Broken bonds and unpaid checks.

Ripped up, burning in fire places,

Filling high up spaces with darkened traces

Of swirling smoke from chimney.

Soot and ash float down upon me.

I brush my shoulders clean,

Keep to my search for a land forever green.

Some land beyond black soot,

Beyond my wildest dreams.

A sliver of a plain, a peace-filled stain

Upon a blackened world of soot and man.

Our world where we feed Our fires as fast as we can

And disregard the forming plan

Of Apocalypse and coming doom.

Digging mass graves that will forever loom

Upon Our charring landscape,

Hungrily gaping,

Waiting and waiting,

For the day we throw Our selves from the cliff,

And into the mouth of Our burnt out pit,

Formed of Our actions that we deemed fit.

Destroying those delicate seas of green.

Planting seeds of War upon uprooted Peace.


The Cake-Eater’s Ball (Picture it and write #9)


http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2011/12/18/__picture-it-write-unfishinshed/

 

The Cake-Eaters Ball,

Come one and all.

Dressed in white,

Shrouded by diamond’s shine and darkness of night,

A splinter of fractured face of right.

Righteous in coming,

A get together of the righteous, the morally straight,

The cake eaters collect in a gathering of the Great.

discuss the ever debatable fate

Of all those, like me, who can’t afford cake.


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