Posted in Writing - Poetry

Choices

hank moodyAhead of you stands a door
If you open it
There are a thousand more
Then another
Thousand more

Yes, no, maybe
Every decision
Leads to another door

If you stop
There’s a final door
To a light
And nothing more

Choices

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Posted in Memoir, Writing - Poetry

Will I Be Loved?

Will I be loved
Me, a single person
With a charcoal heart
As the darkness stays still

Love always passes
At least for me
Never straying longer
Than the blink of an eye

I was in love once
But it never lasted
As I ran away
For fear of new emotions

Will I be loved
At least for a second
Just a brief glimpse
When I look at you

Posted in Writing - Poetry

Living

Is there a chance for me to keep living?
From a soul that has caused so much pain
In my life I have tried to be giving
When there was always nothing to gain

My lies cover myself in a white fog
From where shadows lurk in a leaching black
Sullen memories are built into bogs
While I think of returning my life back

Over the hills, I can see black rain clouds
Semblances of stuff I have missed out on
I have always tried to make a family
Somehow, I feel I am the pawn

Through all the darkness in my sullen life
There’s never been a chance to repay strife

Posted in Memoir, Writing - Poetry

The Devil’s Beaufort

Among the fields of sweet soft wheat
A young maiden makes her plea
Her husband went to war today
Across the Beaufort Sea

Alone standing on a hill
The devil fiddles at night
Dancing, drinking sweet merlot
Creating a disquieted sight

“Take my hand, come to me”
The devil says to her
Holding out his thorny palm
Reaching with a whir

Entrancing in the Devil’s will
She rises to her feet
Shrill voices from Succubi
She runs to her defeat

His soft embrace touches her
Stealing a soul and life
Looking within the dreary lanes
The devil takes her as his wife

War rages through silent storms
And dusty dreary death
Amongst them grows luscious thorns
Red roses from her breath

Her husband returns from the sea
And calls for her in the night
The maiden doesn’t return the plea
The soldier begins his plight

The soldier calls once again
And walks upon the hill
Red roses lay upon the ground
Enclosed with the maiden’s will

So reach across the Beaufort Sea
Where you will see a light
And listen for the maiden’s call
While the Devil fiddles the night