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When winds at night on windows roar
wax runs out dies candle's flame
you would hear a knock upon door
a familiar voice calling your name.

Don't respond nor open the eyes
the voice is keen over winds' howl
grows it louder its pitches rise
scaring even the brave barn owl.

Pull the blanket up your head
you are safe so long you hide
lie dead quiet not move on bed
with mom asleep by your side.

Between the pause your fears mount
if is a chance to be found out
one two three the calls you count
but count it right leave no doubt.

Three times the voice would call your name
for it has no power to do any more
but move onto where dies a candle's flame
and a child is awake behind closed door.
Inspired from a story I used to hear from mom long long ago when unbelievably I was a child.
 Oct 2016 Gaffer
ryn
The Second
 Oct 2016 Gaffer
ryn
Catapulted...
Over the moon.
Counted stars
as I hurtled through time and space.

I had tasted the sweetness.
The spellbinding grasp of weightlessness
as I crested upon the peak of my ascent.
Felt free and overwhelmed that moment
where the universe and I collided...
And birthed the second.

I only had that second.

The second that spanned an eternity.
The second filled with abundant promise.
The second that unclenched my fist,
melted my heart,
and liberated my mind.


But gravity takes control
and that second dissolves as
quickly as it came.
Reality beckons almost gentle...
Like swaying palms in the night sea breeze.
Assuring me that I'll be back in my rightful place.

In this time...
And this space...
 Oct 2016 Gaffer
ryn
Nightfall
 Oct 2016 Gaffer
ryn
Weak is the light
dancing upon the thread...
That makes the horizon.

Lacklustre is the moon
that rose up proud...
But failed to inflate whole.

Dim are the stars.
Twinkling feeble
that seem further than far.

Dark is this night
soundless and still...
And black as coal.
 Oct 2016 Gaffer
Cassie Mae
I wonder if you listen to the same bands...

hold on,
I've written this before.

I just want to know what kind of man you became.
(C) Cassie Mae Writings 2016
Autumn views change much like the observers
A little worse , a bit better , in some ways a little sooner than later
Soft skinned , running to a fro now replaced with hard shelled , set in your ways , pre-planned afternoon walks  
Elder hardwoods finally reveal their true colors , passing the torch down to their green , full o' fire young-ins , drawing from their scabbard , fencing for all their worth , forever pushing forward while old folks like us can finally relax and learn to enjoy the forest* ...
Copyright October 11 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
I'm not a very strong swimmer,
I'm trying really hard
to keep my head above the water.

My soul is exhausted,
my body and my mind
are going through absolute torture.

Me, panicking,
makes it even harder
to stay afloat...

I ain't going out like this!
Hell no!!
I ain't going out on this note!

I'll keep trying to swim
through the rising swells and waves,
I'll paddle and backstroke
my way back to shore,

I'll do what a survivor does,
I'll keep swimming
until I just can't swim no more.

I'm usually as warm and bright
as a little ray of sunshine...

But, lately,
I can't even seem to radiate
as much light as the dimmest glare
of moon shine.

I've been a warrior
all of my life,
my history is my proof,

But I'm not as strong as I once was,
I'm not as resistant as I was in my youth.

I'm gonna make it back to shore.
And if I happen to lose my pen
along the way...
I'll be alright!

I'll write my message in the sand
using my finger - in hope that God in heaven
will read it, and bestow upon me
some mercy, by shinning upon me
some much needed courage,
strength, and light.

By Lady R.F ©2016
I wrote this desperate piece when I left HP.
I wasn't going to post it. It was written only as a release for my emotions (self-therapy) but what the heck! ...here it is.
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