A roar of thunder,
Reverberates across the dewy sand.
The old cottage trembles,
Swaying with the waves.
The vast area of greyness,
Reflecting on the crimson stained floor.
Cracked windows and mirrors,
Masking the events of before.
When joy soulfully rested here,
When the skies were gaiety,
When the ripples of the ocean kissed the rocks,
When the shards of glass were together,
When the wind chimes echoed with the rain.
The mystery of the thatched cottage,
Forever swept away,
As the abyss swallows it whole.
Tandem.
The intertwined souls,
Sought the ineffable peace,
The benevolent love,
The aching desires,
Even as their paths,
Were ever so parallel.
The vast cosmos,
The tethered Fates
Working in tandem,
To unravel the lines,
That joined the ever so,
Decayed bodies.
The Beginning of the End.
A wild spirit, cunning like a fox, The protagonist of tragedy, they called her, A thinker, stubborn like an ox. The protector of the worlds, they called him. His heart, a soft feather, Her brain, a stubborn weed. His carefully concealed naivety, Her obvious shrewd satire, Commenced the collision of the worlds. Her stubbornness to know everything, His cunningness to show her nothing, She who carved her own heart, He who engraved his own fate. She who dove six feet under, He who soared the skies, Together they forged, The beginning of the end.
Pandemonium.
The harshness of the rain, The reticence of the hurricane, The mud lidden boots, The cracked spines of the books, Twisting and falling, Unbroken like porcelain. The hatred of the winds, The growling of the trees, The fear in the ambers of the wolf, The wickedness of the grinning mouse. Cracking and tumbling, Breaking like the diamond. The tall ceiling, Stacked and stacked, With withered stories, Unfinished thoughts, And loud proses. Few written in mellowest of the pastures, Some drafted in chaotic pandemonium.
The Wanderer.
A wanderer, He who craved the uneasiness of the seas, The captivity of the jungles, The smokes of the cities, Began another voyage, In search of a beautiful adventure. What is beauty? A charming man flashing smiles? Giggling of a child? Or this thundering storm. Thought the wanderer. Will there be a coastal town? A punishment ground? Questions upon questions occupied his attention. A luring melody that pulled him from his sleep, The noisy sea and the path of stars, Once again his companion on a lonely night, The land of flowers and ivies was the one he craved, The one where his beloved waited, The wanderer set sail anew, As the dawn turned into dusk once again.
The Protagonist & The Anti-Hero.
Blinding flashing lights, Every touch, every sound, Broken lines of addiction As the bass thrummed through the nerves, The insolent protagonist, Hunting for revenge, The genteel anti-hero, Mirthful in her quest, Punches, Kicks Crushed bones, Stabbed torsos, And damaged egos. A bandaged apology, And an archaic story. A soft mutter that makes her blood boil, “You used to be much more…fun” Annoyed huffs escape her, “Move. Or I’ll make you” And he softly smiles, “Welcome back.”
Paradise
Her mind was a labyrinth, An inescapable maze, Housing a raging monster, How shall it defy the purpose, The one that made cruelty seep into her bones, That extinguished her thirst for serendipity, Actions, reactions, unexplainable consequences Those questionable improbabilities, That thrummed through her entire being, The blacks, the whites and the grey areas, Confining, Stifling, Suffocating, The loudness of the world, falls silent, As the screams roar inside her, Pain, Anger, Envy Maybe for her it was paradise, A paved pathway towards those Elysian Fields.
O’Wise Witch Epilogue
The years forgone, Yet terror grips this town. They whisper of her cruelty, They mourn in silence, The deaths of the conspirators, And the believers never cease. The echoes of her cackles, And the small whimpers, Fills the dark silence of the night. Some call her a monster, Others, a victim. Some reminisce her purity. Others, her vengeance. She who succumbed to her own inferno, A demon living amongst us, Preached the men. Men who craved her power. She had set them free. Those tortured flames that seek revenge. The flames that burnt the malice, The flames that sought to protect, The flames of the dark sun, Who bowed and turned, Only for her.
A Chapter.
An eerie silence, No creaking of doors, Or the smell of rotting wood, Just a sinister stillness. An aura of something dark, The hanged frame who told us million stories, The portrait of a spectral, menacing face, With a puffed chest and darkened irises, Wouldn't be the expectant, Of a saving grace. The gentle wife, Radiating kindness with a soft smile, Grasping his hand like a tether, Wouldn't be expected, To unleash the unforeseen carnage, Fueled by anger and self preservation. It was the sun and the moon, Separated by the stars in between, It was the chaos and the desperation, Of the two unpredicted lovers. A story like Orpheus and Eurydice. Pyramus and Thisbe. Tristian and Isolde. Remembered along the centuries, Would this be another chapter worth recalling?
Nyx.
A twist of fate, Gilded whispers across the rose hall, The white roses that bloomed, Tainted by a single drop of blood. Winds that bang the glass doors shut. Whimpers that turn into screams, Souls which longed for their retribution, Eager to please their master, Bind the glimmer of freedom, That shone through the cracks of destiny. Wraiths who scurry for the gifts, Crows that perch on the pillars, Scrutinising every creature, Those who submit shall be the ones to win, To perish shall those who cheated her. A soft breeze envelops her scent, The calming sounds of flapping of wings, And she enters. People who rejoiced in hope of a saviour Spirits who grinned wickedly, The soft padding of her feet, As she stops on her path, To gaze at the darkened roses, And when she reaches, A small brush of her finger, Collecting the dust on the onyx throne. Cawing of crows ensues, Sounds of glee and admiration, From both the captured and captivated, Her back against the crowd, Facing that cursed wall, As gasps of shock and terror fill the hall, She smirks. The dark wings unfolded, The throne hummed in approval, Crowned with an aureole of dark mists, A soft melodious voice breaches that brings everyone to their knees, “Bow.”
Eunoia 