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From the cold depths of despair,
came a rush of white snowy air;
I was left all alone that day,
and felt I had surely lost my way.

For within the winter's pearly frost,
I thought I could perceive a ghost;
an ethereal, mystical, gossamer face,
It would rise then vanish without a trace.

My heart was weary with memories,
of all the things that had brought me pain;
And this grey shadow from the past,
brought more hurt that long remained.

I rambled through my big old house,
turning past every darkened corner;
Wanting to shade myself from truth,
barely breathing and starting to flounder.

When the ice broke through and tears erased,
from the senseless crime I could not face;
No longer haunted by unknown guilt,
I climbed into bed and pulled up the quilt.

The next day the amber rays appeared,
through long rows of icy window panes;
And with the ageless love of God,
I sensed that I was not insane.

The shadow life that I had lived,
became a daydream quite unreal;
The muted face had gone away,
and with all my strength I began to pray.

I then set myself upon a path,
to cure my spirit of haunting's wrath;
The winter that seemed so long to me,
was just one day...which had gone astray.
This one is a bit strange. I wrote it long ago, hoping to capture what it's like to feel the self-loathing of depression which wrapped around me like a horrid winter storm. The rhyme is a bit uneven but I  kept it that way for the story's sake.  I could do better, but it's a start ! Thanks for reading, my dear friends.  Fondly, Fran
When life is low and the fire dies,
and blue-black clouds fill up the skies;
My heart grieves in an anguished way,
and sometimes I can't face the day.

My folks live in a world beyond,
they've already played their earthly song;
I hope that they can hear my pleas,
for strength and comfort from stormy seas.

Watch over me and keep me well,
protect my soul from a tortuous hell;
Keep me always in your daily thoughts,
and hold me close when I'm distraught.

You live among the angels now,
your souls are cleansed by holy vows;
If the Lord can't always hear my prayers,
please...intervene with tender care.
Actually, I wrote this more simplistic poem FIRST, but nonetheless heartfelt, as a tribute to my parents who provided a safe and loving home and would walk through fire for ANY of their children. RIP, forever !
As the summer's scorching heat fades nightly,
a gentle mist arises in a massive haze;
It highlights all the unseen figures there,
with translucent whirls of gossamer portrayed.

While watching moonlight glow in magic dance,
our eyes become accustomed to its wonder;
And ghosts of light enchant us as we pray,
for all who've passed beyond to heaven's grandeur.

I have felt the simple softness of their essence,
with pure serenity and calm they've floated by;
My dear family and friends were fully present,
as I heard their fainted whispers and deep sighs.

Then joining with the hosts of feathered angels,
these souls became engaged in carrying forth;
A holy message of miraculous proportions,
which helps dissolve anxieties here on earth.

They've wandered far to this unholy realm,
to keep us safe from harm and wicked sin;
With charity and hope their forceful missive,
will grant our faithful hearts a chance to win.
for my parents, who are always with me
The trembling leaves sway and tumble down,
their autumn home resides on the ground;
'Till the furious wind-gusts charge ahead,
and soon the leaves build a perfect bed.

Piling on top of the yellows and browns,
the reds are as bright as a circus clown;
Squirrels crawl through looking for acorns,
then silently settle for evergreen's pine-cones.

As the rays of sunlight begin to fade,
and trails of clouds soon find their way;
When tumbling through a crimson sky,
shedding their fears as night passes by.

Now at rest they tumble no more,
they've drifted to town and then to the shore;
Where playful gulls sing a haunting tune,
and new leaves reflect the autumn moon.
This was totally for fun. I started out with one word and let it go on from there, notably including an autumn theme, as I was born in October. Thanks for reading this ! FEM
Nightly when you lie upon your pillow,
remember there's a different world ahead;
In mystical motions of your weary mind,
and fields of wonder surrounding your bed.

In fantasy you'll find inspired release,
from daily qualms and troubles of the heart;
While sensing vibrant whirls of saintly images,
embrace you while they play their golden harps.

Dizzying sounds provoke and mesmerize,
when easing deepened thoughts of disarray;
The angelic chorus sings its sweet refrain,
and gently soothes all tendencies toward pain.

These visions of a peaceful life will show,
that through the night the shadows disappear;
As the Lord prepares a miracle for us all,
with dreams of hope which vanquish every fear.
Some "spiritual optimism" depicted in this poem !
The restless waters flow unevenly tonight,
across a path of crowded avenues;
They run in torrents like the stormy seas,
and cover ancient scars of past abuse.

While sleep comes and goes in desperate waves,
disrupting all the massive thoughts and fears;
Yet wanting to behold my mind's illusions,
I toss around and feel the falling tears.

How can you sleep within this quagmire ?
why are you still resisting my touch ?
The sweaty sheets between define a memory,
that years ago we lingered in the field of trust.

But when the soulful ache is finally quenched,
no other thought will dwell inside my heart;
You once held me in the arms of acid rain,
yet sleepless, forever drew our lives apart.
The subtle art of pretense mars the state,
of holiness alive at heaven's gate;
So proceed with precious caution if you dare,
cloaked in a banner sewn from angels' hair.

Beside the raging waters thus renewed,
a flowing arc of lies are heavily spewed;
With wasted moments sullied in contempt,
now all eyes open wide in grave dissent.

The face that amply covers its own style,
whether rows of tears or even robust smiles;
Falls away in bleak and haunted blend,
as fading images seek only to pretend.

The scorched and cursed mask of tragic scenes,
can quickly melt away in horrid screams;
While in the burning days of daring sun,
the guilty then repent for innocence undone.
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