The ghosts in the trees,
They're all staring at me.
I'm out here alone and lost,
Can't they just let me be?

The ghosts in the trees,
They seem to be scared.
I just want to go home,
But I don't know my way there.

A ghost of a raven
shrieked from the tree.
You may hide in a ravine
You may jump in the sea
You can run to the mountain
Pray to the craven
But I will find theeee!

That ghost in the tree,
It knows my name!
Turning, I start to run,
I don't like this game!

That ghost in the tree,
That shrieked my name.
It's starting to follow me,
Does it know I'm in pain?

Raven, Raven
Stark and mad
No safe haven
To be had
Yellow beak
Upon your back
For evermore,
Forever more.

Ghostly raven in that tree,
Why do you wish to torture me?
I'm simply lost, I don't want trouble.
Can't you just go to hell already?!

Ghostly raven in that tree,
I didn't really mean that.
I'm already so afraid,
I can't stand your beak upon my back.

Flee, fly, foe, crumb
My claws in your hair
Till your heart grows numb
-Begone or your'e done

Evil black bird I can see,
With your mocking and taunting.
I see a glowing light ahead
Your ghostly image is fading

Evil black bird I can see,
With your hatred and torture.
The glowing light is within reach,
I'll be gone and you have no future.

*Begone, begone
The night is long
I fear your fear
Unbidden here
Forever more
Forbidden.

I weep for Narcissus,
but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful.
I weep because,
each time he knelt beside my banks,
I could see,
in the depths of his eyes,
my own beauty
reflected.

-r0

Not so long ago, I used to write about love
As if it were overflowing in me.
We write because we think we are overwhelmed
by the feeling that inspires us.
I have discovered today,
that this inspiration we get comes from but a longing.
The words we write down cover up
our true intentions of wanting to feel more.
We write because what we feel
is not enough.

I know this because I have felt enough.
I have felt overwhelmed.
For the first time, I knew what true love was all about.
Since then, not a word was spilled with ink.
I tried to gather my words
only to find out that the one who had taken them
was the love of my life.
That was when I realized,
It was she who had been my masterpiece.
An artwork where I had poured my everything.
An artwork that had come to life.
An artwork that needed no words.

We are never truly inspired until we have nothing left to say.
Until we are left in awe.

Observing Raven feather-full,
A gleam of blue on black.
The beady eye could look at me
And widen every crack.

Mocking with
Hollow call.
Watch! Don’t let that feather fall.
Promises it’s not hole.

The Raven whispers thoughts of doubt,
Insides sobbing “let me out!"
A thought indeed bizarre
But one can only think that...
“Maybe these birds are?"

A glooming sense of winged wisdom,
Although black and beady eyed,
It would not come as a shock
That their little birds, they never cried!

One cannot help but wonder
If they can see indoors?
Of course it may not seem so
but they always come in fours!

Look out the window frame,
Take a peek!
Observe the Raven’s coarse black beak.

*Just mind he doesn’t watch you back,
Or he will widen every crack.