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Claire Cluck Dec 2014
The sun fell swallowing the garish light of day,
As the creatures of night came out to play
They were of all sorts, all shapes, all sizes,
But to one accustomed to their dance, there were no surprises.
But young Thomas did ignore these nightly friends
And drifted to sleep shunning the beauty which no one comprehends.

The skeletal folks, with wide eyes and graceful tendril
Did love the small boy, and sent him many dreams oh so tender
This night was strange, something amiss,
And a vile silent creature did slide out from the shadows
For young Thomas was placed in bed without his mother’s kiss.

The poor dream senders shrieked not knowing what to do,
They broke their oath to keep hidden and entered the room
They called forth to their dancing friends outside
All entered to guard the young one in stride

The silent creeper, was of a darker world
In his eye crept shadows, in his tears only blood,
He remained unseen to the human eye.
Muffling Thomas’s screams and cries
His bony arms stealing all the boy’s sweet thoughts
Tying innocent minds into painful knots.

With little success the boy’s twilight defenders,
Did claw and pull at the monsters limbs, attempting forced surrender
But to no avail, in a final attempt, a haggard frightened being, cradled,
And he left into the night as that was all he was able

The others ran after, as the monsters’ fiends leapt up from hell
The night creatures fought and in vain they did yell
For they were outmatched but joys must prevail!
Thomas’s family must not face the fate of dreams gone stale

The frail creature whisked Thomas away to a beauteous place, fairy dust
He worked away the dusk, to be rid of this distrust
But this night could not end, for the hellish beast
Took away a bit of Thomas’s light, just the smallest piece

Thomas, poor lad, brought something dark
That lives on in him, rooted in his soul,
Best love your children, show them, and mark,  
Before creatures of hell, not night, do take him whole.
Makenzie Marie Oct 2014
And so I watch
And I listen
as faithful friend after friend excuses themselves
with their funny excuses
and I laugh
at the joke that the fates have whispered to me
No one else seems to hear it
It’s not quite so funny, you see.
The pitter patter of the pity
You can hear it, you see
You can see it, actually.
“It’s a small thing among friends”
And a small thing to see in a stranger’s face
The twinge of sadness and confusion and relief for themselves
They look at me and they see what they will never be
They see, though, what could happen, horribly.
One in 100
maybe.
1,000
10,100?
less likely
(for you).
And so I watch
And I listen
And they whisper
and they wonder
and they worry
And I laugh
at the joke that life telling me,
mocking at me.
But it’s not quite so funny, you see.
The whispering of the Wonderers
Asking over politely
Never listening intently
And I’ll tell them all about it
And I will listen
to the pitter patter of the pity.
Pitter pattering;
tip toeing around me,
so constantly
and away, usually.
tip toeing of tongues in whispers so willingly disregarding me,
or cautiously eluding everything.
Or even tip toeing of tongues trying to calm me.
The pitter patter of pitty.
You can hear it, you see.
You can see it, actually.
It may be a small thing.
Truthfully, it’s bigger than you might see.
I see.
And I laugh.
at the joke that the the fates whispered.
No one else quite seems to understand it.
But It’s become quite funny, to me.
What a pity.
a gale Aug 2014
How can a girl like me?
Who forgets
To do her homework
Wash the dishes
Bring what’s needed
Find it so **** hard
To forget about you?

How can a girl like me
Who gets easily lost
In road maps
Poetry & stories
Grocery stores
Always find her way
Back to you?


How can a girl like me
Who gets over
Her failed tests
Wasted money
Lost phone
Still not over you?

How can a girl like me
Who always seemed smart
Be stupid enough
To think I have a chance
With you?

*a. gale
Revenant Feb 2014
I found him in the most unlikely of people
In the coldest of nights
In the warmest of hearts
The softest of touches.
Out of the frigid wind was I pulled
I can breathe.
No rushing currents choking me
No biting cold cutting through me
Protected.
Safe.
But for how long?
Do not rush
Darling, savor what little I can offer
Not what little I have left, but what little may be allowed.

— The End —