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The Daemon struck, lightning-quick. One hand swiped at the Prince, claws slashing at his chest and stomach. The quick reflexes that had served him more than once on the battlefield saved Iestyn from being disemboweled, but the claws still tore their way through his shirt, leaving deep scratches on his skin, along with a scarlet trail of blood. He slashed at the creature with the sword in his hand, but it was too quick, and jumped nimbly out of the way. “This is too easy,” complained the Daemon. “You are not going to be much sport for me – a cat could do better with a mouse!” It made a lazy, playful sweep with its claws once again, and succeeded in slashing a wound in the Prince’s shoulder, drawing more fresh blood. Almost immediately, the Daemon's nostrils dilated with pleasure at the hot, coppery smell. A need grew within it, and it gave a high, keening cry of want and of pleasure. Iestyn’s mind and body grew numb with fear as he saw the hunger in its reptilian eyes. It extended its long, red, forked tongue and licked at the blood on his cloak, then threw back its head and gave another keening wail. Some time later he found his joints becoming a little stiff with cold, and stood up to stretch. He walked to the edge of the path and stood, looking down into the dark chasm below their camp, shivering in the cold breeze. The valley was suffused with night, the only light that of the cold, hard white moon that limned the rocks and bushes with a thin coating of silver, and the faint stars that surrounded it. The cold was almost crystalline, as though it could shatter into a million icy shards. Although Iestyn could still see no other signs of life he wondered uneasily if they were being watched by someone or something. As he pondered upon this his uneasiness grew, until he was certain that he felt eyes watching him. He slowly turned around, and gasped with shock to see a woman standing behind him on the path. She wore a white gown of a fabric that was almost translucent, and possessed a strangely fey and unearthly beauty, as revealed by the cold light of the moon. Her skin was pale as death, and her large eyes with their dark pupils were enormous; her hair, which hung straight down to her waist, was also the color of midnight. The contrast between black and white was almost shocking to see. The Prince stood still with something quickly approaching terror as she approached him, a seductive smile on her full red lips. She spoke in a husky contralto that sent small shivers up and down his spine. “Prince Iestyn of Lochwellor. How nice to see you.” He looked at the woman without speaking, small waves of panic coursing through his body. She moved closer, until she stood right in front of him. His senses reeled as he inhaled a musky fragrance that exuded from her body and seemed to fill the air he breathed. His nerve-endings were tingling with a fiery intensity such as he had never felt before. He could make out the shape of her body beneath her gown, and what he could see excited him. “Well?” the woman enquired softly, her alien eyes locked on his. “Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to welcome me? I came a long way to find you, you know.” She reached out with one hand and touched him gently, pressing her palm against his chest. The Prince felt a sudden rush of heat... Cathy Harper exploded out of the nightmare, her panicked shrieks echoing up and down the exposed brick walls of her loft. She lay wrapped in the sweat-dampened sheets, her body rigid with terror and her breath coming in labored gasps. For what seemed to be an endless space in time, her eyes were the only part of her that she could move. They darted frantically around the night-darkened bedroom as she stared at the walls and ceiling, searching. She sought out the shadowed corners, struggling to see what might be hidden there. When she found nothing, she gradually began to relax, the feeling slowly returned to her arms and legs, and her sense of terror evaporated into the still, dark night. As she began to extricate herself from the clutches of the recurring nightmare, she became aware of the faint chirping of crickets outside her window, punctuated here and there by the solemn croaking of the frogs down by the river’s edge. No one was pounding frantically at her door or shouting her name, and she was grateful for the solid old apartment building she lived in, instead of having an apartment in one of the more modern condos downriver. The walls were thick enough to drown out pretty much anything. I could have been raped and murdered and no one would have heard anything, she thought, and then shivered with unease. Thank God her shrieks had not roused anyone, though, especially the super, Ned Grabowski, down in his basement apartment. She gave another shudder, this time one of disgust, as she thought about how he constantly seemed to be watching her. The man had the uncanny knack of always appearing in the lobby of the building shortly after she entered, no matter the time of day or night. She would no sooner be at the mailboxes than Ned would appear behind her, startling her with his almost otherworldly approach. Ned would try to engage her in conversation as Cathy edged away from him, trying to stay out of range of the unwashed odor of his body that assaulted her senses, trying hard not to gag. The fetid stench that issued from his grinning mouth with its rotting teeth was even worse. He would fix his close-set, faded baby blues on her and walk behind her as she headed for the stairs. Cathy always took the stairs whenever she could. She had a deep-rooted fear of elevators, and had had nightmares of being trapped in an elevator that was plunging to the ground since she was a child. Along with these nightmares were others where she was in an elevator with a pile of trash bags forgotten either accidentally or on purpose by the night cleaning crew. The bags would make sinister rustling noises as they began to move, until something monstrous suddenly exploded out of them, heading straight for her. Cathy would punch every button on the control panel but the doors would never open, and she would fine herself trapped in the elevator with a ravening monster. As her breathing began to slow to a more normal rhythm and she felt the sheets begin to cool against her flushed skin, her thoughts returned unbidden to the creepy Ned Grabowski. Ned always followed her to the foot of the stairs and watched as she began to climb. Often, he would make creepy remarks like, “Climbing stairs is so good for the hips, isn’t it?” She was also pretty sure that he craned his head to try to look up her skirt, like an overgrown teenager. If Cathy did look back she would find him posturing, hitching his dirty jeans up over a sizeable beer belly encased in an equally filthy t-shirt that almost always bore some kind of macho slogan. He would stand there and leer at Cathy, his thumbs tucked into the waistband of his jeans, fingers pointing towards his crotch as if he was putting it on display for her. Seeing him always made her feel like taking a shower as soon as she got into her apartment. Ned never took the stairs if he could help it, loudly proclaiming, “If God had intended for men to climb stairs He never would have invented elevators,” or some such crap. Cathy wandered idly down Dan Patch Ave, tempted to take a walk through the Butterfly House, but a sudden loud grumble from the direction of her stomach reminded her that she’d only had a cup of tea that day. The smell of popcorn, cotton candy and caramel apples hung heavily in the air, making her mouth water. She made a left down Nelson, then cut across the grassy area under the Skyride, heading for somewhere she could get a burger and a milkshake. She was standing in line under a striped tent, ticket in hand, when she was jostled by someone ducking out of the way of a heavily loaded tray. “Oh, sorry, excuse me,” the stranger said, then stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Cathy in amazement. “You!” they said simultaneously, then started laughing. “Wow, Jon,” Cathy said. “I was just thinking about you earlier, and wondering if I’d see you again this year. It’s wonderful to see you again!” Jon nodded, smiling at her, but she thought that he looked somewhat distracted. He raked his fingers through hair black as a raven’s wing, and then said, “You want to get something to eat and go someplace we can talk for awhile?” “Sure. Go grab yourself a ticket and I’ll keep a space for you,” Cathy replied. He grinned and reached into a back pocket. “No need, already got one,” he said, holding up a blue ticket. They were almost at the front of the line by now, and quickly ordered cheeseburgers with fries and milkshakes, vanilla for Jon and chocolate for Cathy. As they found a seat at a picnic table nearby Jon pointed at her milkshake. “Still like chocolate, huh?” he said, his deep blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Yeah, some things never change,” Cathy said as she slurped a mouthful of the cold, thick and creamy drink. Jon nodded and took a bite of his cheeseburger. Cathy followed suit, but after a couple of bites she put her food aside and said, “Okay, my friend, what’s up?” Jon looked at her for a moment and something like fear darkened the azure of his eyes to a deep sapphire color. He looked away, then back at her. “Some…well, let’s just call it weird shit has been going on with me since we met…” His voice trailed off and then he tried again. “I don’t know quite how to explain it.” There was frustration in Jon’s voice, mixed with something almost like fear, and Cathy shivered in spite of the warm August heat that wrapped around them. She waited patiently for him to continue, as she ignored her food, sipping slowly at her chocolate ‘shake. “Maybe I’d better go back a bit. I don’t think I told you about my childhood last time we were together, did I?” Cathy shook her head. “I didn’t think so. It’s never been easy for me to open up to strangers about certain things. In fact, what I’m about to tell you – I never told anyone, not even people I was really close to.” Jon took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s the story. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve known things, felt things, which no one else was able to. Actually, it goes deeper than that. I also see things that no one else can see.” He smiled as Cathy arched an eyebrow. “No, I’m not crazy,” he continued, “it’s just that sometimes there are things that lie below the surface…damn it, it’s too hard for me to put into words without sounding as though you need to send for the men in white coats!” Jon reached out for his milkshake to take another sip and froze, his hand wrapped around the paper cup, his eyes going past Cathy’s face. His own face paled beneath its tan, and his hand started to shake. Very slowly and carefully, he put the cup back down onto the table, never taking his eyes off what he was looking at behind her. Cathy started to turn around. “No, don’t look!” Jon said in a panicked voice. It was too late. Cathy was already scanning the crowds behind her. She couldn’t see anything out of place though, and turned back to Jon with a questioning expression. If anything, his face was even paler, and she saw small dots of perspiration beading his upper lip. “What is it? What do you see?” she asked gently. He didn’t reply, but looked as if he wanted to bolt from the table. Cathy turned again, and as she did Jon shot out his hand and grabbed her by the wrist. “Please don’t,” he croaked, but Cathy had already turned around again, and as he clutched her wrist oh dear God she suddenly saw what he did. An icy chill coursed down her spine. She was looking at three men who had just entered the food tent. “Men” was the wrong word to use, however. She could see vague man-shaped forms, but beneath their skin were creatures that bore little resemblance to men. Cathy felt her gorge rise. The creatures were huge, at least seven feet tall, with long, skeletal arms and legs and heads that seemed too large for their narrow bodies. They towered over the people around them, who brushed against them, seemingly unaware of the monsters. They appeared to be covered with a thick, reddish fur, and reminded Cathy of giant red spiders. Cathy could not believe that people were not hysterically and pointing at the creatures and Cathy realized that she and Jon were the only ones that could see them. She looked wildly at Jon, who had climbed to his feet, meal forgotten. “What –“ Was all she managed to get out. “Quick. We have to get out of here now,” he whispered urgently. He tugged at Cathy’s wrist and pulled her out of the tent into the bright sunlight. In spite of the warmth Cathy still felt chilled. Before the flap closed behind them she bit back a scream of horror as one of the creatures looked her way. She saw two great, rolling black eyes in the thing’s face, and a mouth filled with huge, shiny teeth. They’re not men, her mind gibbered. Then, as Jon let go of her wrist there was a kind of shift in the air before her, and in the blink of an eye there were just three unremarkable-looking men standing there, looking after her and Jon. She looked wildly at Jon. “No time to explain,” he said. “Come with me!” She allowed him to take her by the hand again and they ran across the grass, dodging food stalls, benches and people, heading for Carnes Ave and the Mighty Midway. In all of this, I know I’ve barely scraped the surface of the truth, and that what lies beneath is even more horrible than I have dared to contemplate. Daytime is bad, but the deep dark of night is worse. That’s when the nightjars, owls and nighthawks take to the skies. I can hear them now, the beating of great black wings, the screams of the small animals clutched in their sharp talons. They deliberately hunt close to the house so that I can hear them. I know they do. The moon is out, riding the clouds. I can feel it burning through the drapes, worse than the light of the sun. I toss and turn in my sweat-soaked sheets but the heat is terrible, burning my skin. At the same time I am wracked with intense shivers and my skin goose-pimples. My throat is parched but I dare not reach out my hand to the glass of water by my bedside for fear I will reach out and touch – Him. I can feel Him near.) Mark and Judy very carefully stepped between the vines traveling over the ground as far as the eye could see, heading for the car. As far as Mark could tell, it appeared unscathed. The vines only covered the ground, not any structures such as the car or the building they had spent the night in. Whether or not the car would start was another matter entirely. They had almost reached the Blazer when Mark’s gaze was drawn to where one of the bright red flowers, a little taller than its companions, was gently swaying in a nonexistent breeze. He bent over, looking at it with curiosity. Judy tugged at his sleeve. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to get too close to these things. We don’t know what they are or where they came from!” “Yeah, but they’re kind of pretty, don’t you think?” He bent closer, and now it seemed that the little seed pods surrounding the flower were stretching their golden heads towards him, as if trying to touch him. He ignored Judy’s protests and moved even closer, till his eyes were scant inches from the plants. There was more movement from one of the pods, which appeared to be opening, delicately unfolding to reveal hundreds of tiny golden seeds within. It finished opening with a little puff and shot a stream of seeds at Mark’s face and body. He leapt back with a startled shout and rubbed at his face, hair and clothing, dislodging the little golden seeds. He looked at Judy, whose expression was filled with horror. As the elevator began to move, John was surprised. Instead of heading up, it felt as though they were moving down the shaft. Then it hit him – they were going to throw him out! When the doors opened on the lobby, Security would be there to escort him out of the building. “Wait a minute, what about my briefcase?” he asked. “That’s all right, you won’t need that where you’re going,” the man replied, somewhat unpleasantly. “What do you mean I won’t need—“ John broke off as he watched them pass the ground floor level and head for the basement. He was stunned when the cab of the elevator passed that floor too, and still continued to move downwards. He turned to look at Miss Dearborn but she was huddled in a corner of the elevator, a look of terror on her face. He noticed that her fingernails were pressing into the palms of her hands and drawing crescents of blood. He suddenly felt very cold, although he was sweating profusely. He turned to look at the man on his right, who had a faint, smug smile on his face. There was something wrong with his eyes. The man caught his stare and looked fully at him. “Something wrong, Mr Springer?” he said. John pointed with a shaky finger. “Your eyes,” he whispered. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” The man’s eyes had turned from a bright blue to a sickly yellow, and the shape of his pupils had changed. John stole a look at the man on his left, and to his horror, that man’s eyes had also changed. They were now slitted like a cat’s eyes, only the slits ran from side to side. John heard a soft keening sound from behind him and he twisted his head around to see Miss Dearborn crouched in the corner of the elevator, a spreading puddle of liquid coming from between her feet, her hands waving helplessly in front of her face. She was crying. The two men ignored her and tightened their grip on John, who had begun to squirm in their steely grasp. “Let me go!” he shouted with a bravado he did not feel. “Damn you, let me GO!” As he drove away from his house toward the freeway, Chris felt the palms of his hands becoming greasy with sweat. Agitation coursed through his body as he neared the on-ramp to the freeway, tension skittering up and down his spine. He tried not to look at the electronic billboard but in spite of his resolve, his eyes cut towards it as he neared the ramp. As he read the harsh red words he felt vomit rise in the back of his throat. “JONI IS-“ No!! He pulled his eyes away from the damning words, and accelerated down the ramp onto the freeway, narrowly missing a Dodge pickup truck that veered sideways into the next lane with little room to spare. He never heard the outraged honking from the irate driver as he put his foot on the accelerator and drove as fast as he could, not once taking his eyes from the road ahead. Chris Cutler lost it. With a scream of rage that bordered on the primeval, he savagely twisted the steering wheel and floored the accelerator, clipping the wing mirror of the Camry in the next lane. The Camry veered off the road onto the shoulder and juddered to a stop, the female driver crying with terror. The BMW shot forward like a bullet, tires screaming on the hard road surface in tandem with the screams of its driver. Chris’ face was a mottled red mask of rage, almost unrecognizable. His hands gripped the steering wheel like claws, his nails biting into the leather cover. He took the off ramp at high speed, hardly braking through the traffic light as he turned the corner, his fevered gaze barely registering the electronic billboard as he passed it. It read, “KILL YOUR USELESS FAMILY. KILL THEM, SLAUGHTER THEM, DESTROY THEM!!!!!!!!!” The words, stark red etched onto black, seemed to have an otherworldly glow about them for a moment, and then they faded until they became one with the background. The billboard stood, blank-faced and silent in the fading afternoon sunlight… “Chris, please,” she began. “Please? Please what?” the thing that had once been her husband sneered. Joni felt utterly helpless. What had happened to the man she loved, the man she had married, to turn him into this – this monster? As she thought that, he launched himself off the bed straight at her, the knife held high in his hand. This time, she was not quick enough to move, and the large blade skittered off her collarbone before slicing through the soft flesh of her left pectoral muscle. Almost instantly, she felt the shock of pain along with numbness in that arm. She looked at Chris in horror. He grinned back at her. “I’ll be that hurts like a sonofabitch, doesn’t it?” he said. Joni cradled her left arm with her right and moaned. “Gonna have a whole lot more hurt by the time I’m done with you,” he added, closing in on her again with the knife. She stumbled out of his way, around the side of the bed, and he followed. As she reached the edge of the bed Chris stuck out his foot and Joni stumbled, falling onto her back on the bed. Her husband crowed with triumph and leapt on top of her, landing with his knees on either side of her hips. He bent forward and ground himself against her, and she could feel his excitement. Something new came into his eyes, and she shuddered. It was at precisely 3:19PM on a hot summer’s afternoon when the sun fell out of the sky. Or so it appeared. One minute, the bright yellow orb hung up above, making its slow circuit across the pale blue cloud-flecked sky, and the next, it was gone. Just like that. Kate Marshall was out in her garden at the time, trimming back the ground cover surrounding her irises. She gasped in shock and nicked her finger as the gardening shears almost took her finger off when the black curtain came down around her. She looked around wildly; night appeared to have fallen four hours too soon. “What the hell?” she whispered as she climbed unsteadily to her feet. The darkness felt thick to her, and she wondered, panicked, if she had been struck suddenly blind. Then she realized that it was not completely dark – a few houses had lights on inside, and she could see them glowing faintly through the darkness. Her first reaction was one of relief at the realization that she was not blind, after all; her second reaction was a cold feeling of dread that uncoiled in her belly and slithered up through her stomach into the back of her throat. How quiet it is, thought Mary Williams, as she used her blue security card to unlock the door to her office building, and slipped inside, making sure the door latched behind her. It was a Sunday, and there was no one else about, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the building during the week hours. She had come in to play catch-up, something she hated to do, but she had been out sick the previous week and hated to let the work pile up. She did not have much vacation or sick time, and wanted to be sure to keep her hours up, hence coming in on a Sunday to finish a couple of reports. Her sneakers made soft squeaking sounds as she crossed the marbled lobby floor to the security desk. She wanted to let Frank know that she was in the building so that he would not be surprised if he suddenly came upon her while making his rounds. Their security guards were issued with Tasers and pepper spray, and she did not relish the thought of Frank overreacting and using either of them on her, which was why she wanted to let him know she was working today. The security guard, however, was not at the big desk in the middle of the lobby. “Must be on patrol”, she muttered. She’d call down to the desk once she was upstairs, to let him know. That would be good enough. She headed for the elevator doors, not noticing the single, bright scarlet drop of blood on the floor beside the desk, glistening wetly in the fluorescent lighting. Mary hummed as she waited for the elevator car to come down. The doors pinged open, and she stepped in. She noticed some garbage bags piled in one corner of the elevator as she punched 39 for her floor and reflected that the night cleaning staff had left the bags for the Monday cleaning staff to pick up. The doors closed and she began the game everyone played in elevators – watching the lighted numbers above the door as the elevator passed them one by one. A soft rustling noise came from behind Mary and she turned to look at the pile of bags. The noise came again and one of the bags moved slightly. Mary made a little sound of disgust and turned and stabbed her finger on the button for her floor again. Rats! She thought. I HATE rats!! She watched the pile of bags carefully and was startled when one of them appeared to jump several inches into the air, the rustling louder this time. Mary moaned and scooted into the farthest corner of the elevator. She looked at the lighted floors and was shocked to see that the elevator was only passing the 11th floor. “Come on, come ON!” she muttered, keeping a watchful eye on the bags, ready to bolt out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. 39 floors or not, she would be taking the stairs back down later if were rats in or among the garbage. The bags moved again, and this time there was a new sound accompanying the rustle. It sounded like a low, wet chuckle, and made Mary’s arms ripple with gooseflesh, lifting the hair on the back of her neck and making her scalp tingle. The chuckle came again, and then the impossible happened. “Oh, Mary!” sang a voice from within the bags. “I’ve been waiting for you!” The voice was strangely garbled, as though whoever was speaking was trying to get the words out through a mouth crammed with too many teeth. Mary was filled with a sudden rush of anger. Those jerks from the 40th floor were playing a trick on her. They had probably overheard her telling Bob on Friday in the cafeteria that she intended to come in and catch up on a couple of reports. It was probably Bill Richards. He had had a hard-on for her ever since she had refused to go out with him on a date. She clenched her fists in anger and prepared to rip the bags apart, looking for a hidden tape recorder. She took one step towards the bags before she heard the voice again. It brought her up short and turned her bowels to water. “Mary, Mary, I’ve been watching you every day. I’ve been waiting for you for so long, and I’m SO – HUNGRY!” The bags burst apart in a tornado of torn paper cups, wads of paper and used tissue from the restrooms. Something flew through the air at Mary and she screamed as the dark thing crashed into her, knocking her off her feet into the corner of the elevator. She screamed again as she saw its grotesque face, bulging urine yellow eyes and a mouth crammed with too many overlapping teeth. The thing opened its mouth and Mary gagged at the stench. She struggled but the thing was strong, and large, claw-tipped hands pinned her to the floor of the elevator. It chuckled again, a horrible grin on its face. “Oh,Mary, don’t you see? Didn’t you always wonder what they were doing up on the 35th floor? Didn’t you always speculate that Bio Gen was doing experiments that were outside the realm of normality? I heard you. ‘They’re mixing human and animal DNA with God knows what’, you said. And you know something? You were right, Mary. It’s a pity you’ll never be able to prove you were right, isn’t it?” The creature bent its head closer to her and Mary gagged again, fighting for air, trying to kick the thing off her, but it was too strong. “Why?” she moaned. “Why are the scientists doing this, you mean? Simple, really. The government is paying them huge sums of money to develop the ‘super soldier’. You see, I was one of the first, and they grew kind of fond of me, so they didn’t destroy me. I guess you could say I’m their mascot. The new soldiers are more unswerving in their loyalty, and they’re even stronger than I am. They’re close to perfecting a soldier that is impervious to pain, and they’re even testing nerve gases on them. It doesn’t even affect some of the new boys…” The monster cocked its head to one side and looked at Mary, a line of drool hanging from one side of its mouth. “But, I digress, dear lady! I don’t have time to bore you with war stories. As I told you earlier, I’m hungry – that guy downstairs was a little tough and old and didn’t really satisfy me. I’m going to eat you now.” Mary started to scream in earnest as she realized what had happened to the security guard who was supposed to be stationed at the desk downstairs. She made a last-ditch effort to wriggle out from underneath the creature but to no avail. The thing casually bent its head and ripped out her right cheek. As Mary screamed and wet herself it chewed thoughtfully and then smiled before it bent back over her and tore out her throat. The elevator doors opened on the 49th floor, but no one stepped out. The floor of the elevator was clean, the only debris from the garbage bags the Monday morning cleaning crew would have to clean up. They would do so, grumbling at the laziness of the evening cleaning staff in not ensuring the bags were whole, and properly tied off. No one ever saw Mary or Frank again. A SCARECROW'S DREAM You smile for all the times you've been here before
Take a magical (and sometimes horrifyingly scary) journey with me...if you dare...below are a few excerpts from current WIPs...
RISE OF THE DARK
Fantasy novel. First draft completed.
Excerpt:
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DRAGON SIGIL (second fantasy novel)
97 pages, 31,000 + words written so far.
Excerpt:
THE WALLS HAVE EYES...And Other Stories
This will be a collection of short stories ranging from fantasy to sci-fi to horror. 12 stories already started. 54 pages written so far. Pretty much finished 4 of the stories, but there's some rewriting there too. More to come!
Excerpts:
Night has fallen.
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The creature brought him higher, and it opened its mouth, unrolling a long, diseased-looking tongue. It casually licked at the man’s face as though he were a giant ice cream cone, its saliva trailing across the banker’s skin, turning it to liquid, which it greedily slurped up.
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The Elevator
TALES FROM THE LAND OF MAKE-BELIEVE
A collection of poems and short stories for children. 26 pages so far. May or may not contain illustrations, I'm still debating that point...
Excerpts:
The tattered scarecrow stands,
Lost in another time,
Cornstalks flying from his hands
As he sings his lonely rhyne;
He's dreaming of another life
Where the crows don't peck his eyes,
Where every scarecrow has a wife
And a home beneath the summer skies.
Scarecrow's dream,
A scarecrow's dream,
While in the fields the children play;
I've never seen a scarecrow dream -
Perhaps I will, one day.
SKETCHES (working title)
Another poetry compilation, this one containing descriptive free verse, may contain thumbnail (or larger) pen-and-ink or watercolor sketches of the subjects...Found some old poems, 14 pages down so far!
Excerpt:
SEAGULL
It brands circles onto the
Brilliant dome of sky above
In slow, freewheeling motion,
Turning in the air like a
Demented acrobat
Winding cartwheels in space.
Gliding silently over a
Sun-spotted rock -
The cliff overhang -
It folds its creamy wings for an instant
And drops like a stone...
SONGS OF JOY AND SORROW
Found some old poems written in the late 70s, early 80s, full of angst. I've put together what I have so far, just snippets really, and it's already up to 34 pages. I can't believe I've written so much over the years...:)
Excerpt:
And you cry for all the times you've gone
Love isn't easy when it's behind a bolted door
And your eyes are filled with shadows when it's done
Love isn't always kind -
Love is cruel and love is blind
And it's never easy letting go
When you know you'll love forever -
Leaving him behind.
Almost forgot - poem about Vietnam - SON OF AMERICA
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