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StoryTallinn Feb 2019
Owl screaming in the night
Bears looking for a fight
At the end of the path
Near the lake, a cottage

There I will rest
Healing my feet
In the chimney
Fire burning bright

When morning comes
With no danger in sight
Then, I will carry on
Building my own freedom
Lewis Irwin May 2018
Anna lived in 3 walls and iron bars,
Put down for; as if she were rabid dog.
Pleaded virtuous to the homicide up the park,
Veritas is what she spoke; her mind was in no fog.

Anna struggled in the slammer; an easy target,
Holly was the girl who made her "life" a living hell.
Day in; Day out; she obliterated the passion to live through it,
And started to dream of a Rose Cottage; outside her cell.

Anna was cocksure of a way out; a one way ticket,
So she lacerated her bed sheets at the crack of dawn.
"Morituri te salutant" read the ticket,
On the Rose Cottage train; or as some call "The Morgue"
Lily Apr 2018
I change so often,
I hardly know what I truly am.  
One minute I’m a grand mansion on a hill,
Overlooking everyone and everything with
An air of pompous superiority, taking
Everything for granted and appreciating nothing.
The next minute I’m a humble cottage in the woods,
Allowing animals and wanderers to frolic in my midst,
Even welcoming them into my home.
I can also take a form of a modern lakehouse,
Feeling rushed and unused and fake,
Trying to stay with the times,
But never being fully enjoyed.  
From time to time, I’m a
Makeshift shelter that the homeless traveler
Builds in a hurry, that feels unwanted,
Unloved, and temporary, liable to fall at any second.  
Even though I change forms frequently,
No one questions it.  
No one bothers to try and get to know
The true me.  Maybe the real me is a
Cozy family home, comforting and familiar,
Or maybe it’s the slightly cramped apartment space,
Frantically trying to piece itself together.  
No one will ever know.  
Yet all they would have to do is
Just knock.
RisingUp Aug 2017
Breathtaking views
of undisturbed nature.
This is where my heart lies.

The lapping of the water
The cool gentle breeze
As the dock creaks and sways.
I am content.

Barefoot in the grass
The cool earth beneath my feet
The smell of the air is rustic and sweet
Frogs hop away
Your step they hope to beat
This is where my heart lies.

Breakfast on the deck
Sun shines in your face
Skin warm and bright
Your senses filled with grace.

Pitter pattering in the kitchen
Laughter abounds
Friends and family come together
Peace is found
This is where my heart lies.

As I stare at the bay
Stress and concerns float away
A dip in the water
Or a paddle too
Ventures you into the never ending blue.

As the sun sets
and crickets chirp
The stars appear
Lighting the sky
This is where my heart lies.

Crackles from the fire
Music resonates in the air
Stories that inspire
Friends and family that care.

This place is special
Wondrous and enchanted
Magic all around,
Absorbing nature's sounds.

This is where my heart lies.
Eriko Mar 2016
dusk settling upon moth eaten vine groves
descending black-dotted wings
powdered of grey white
solitude spoken within
every downstroke

tin fences, rusted into skeletons
turbulence trembling its stakes,
peeling the lovely yellow paint
where butterflies once nested
scrawny black cat
like smoldering black night
carrying two yellow moons
and hairs of silver light

a plain, forgotten location
where lovely sights once roamed
rosy red cheeks,
perfume of lavender melodies
afternoon mint tea
and lemon poppy cookies,
laughter bouncing in the mountain's ribcages

but the settlement has lost
of its melodies and sublime treatment
gone quiet but for the flutter
of moths eating away
the shelved books bleeding of neglect,

yet on an ordinary morning stroll
a young lady,
a lady with voices
singing soulfully in her chest
and daggers in her head
scars like crescent sugars in her eyes
stumbled upon the settlement

the lame, stone cottage
she knocked on the withered blue door
and found the hinges swing open
of it's own accord,
she stepped timidly
without a second thought
of where to go

stepping lightly through dust
and strewn rubble,
she lit a flame and drank the puddle
of beautiful rain water
collected in the porcelain bowl

the moths fluttered,
slight shadows like speckled dove eggs
she stroked the cat
and fed the young master with syllables
admiring the wild flowers,
tulips and lavenders,
daisies and roses
bloom outside the window

caressing each marvelous spine
of dusted books,
revealing the beaming beauty
hidden so well deep within,
pouring over the pages
glorious in the high mount of knowledge

she learned, learned how to tend
the overgrown garden which once stood
learned how cats breath
learned the tragedies of neglect
learned the balance of life and death,
the passage of time
the vessel of humanity
burdened with
wonder

she tended her garden
plucking tender sweet grapes
kiwis and even
sweet potatoes,
naming the black cat
that of the last waning light
before night befalls over the world,
the breath before when
time ceases to ache
and shadows are thrown
silent and beautiful,
speaking with the aching golden sunlight,

she washed the white stones
and made the path,
re-patched the teared curtains
cleaned the bile in the door hinges,
sweeping the filth from the floors
thatched the roof

she became a lovely, lone girl
with the black cat by the name
of things forgotten
remembered once again
like happiness and joy,
love and nourishment
knowledge and intelligence
a calming quiet like calm foggy mornings
rather than that of ineligible silence

she became a queen,
a lovely lady
of her own home
she refurnished from the rubble
and became a companion
of the tulips of the garden
and sweetness from
the purest water
streaming not too
far from home
Aeerdna Aug 2015
Of course I remember that rainy day
you took me in your arms
and said you will protect me
you were like the perfect umbrella,
the kind that's big enough to not let
any drop of cold rain on my skin.

You were like one of those cottages
with an open fire,
you find in the middle of nowhere,
on a winter night while you're wandering by yourself
thinking you are about to die.
I was happy when I've found you,
I felt that you saved my life,
but, then the morning came and
I realised
you could protect me from the night and cold,
but you couldn't save me from the wanderer in me
from myself.
Nicole Dawn May 2015
There once was a little thatch cottage,
With little happy children,
A little green garden,
And a perfect little family.

Then the little children's father
Got cancer and died.
And the perfect little family
In the little thatch cottage,
Was not so perfect anymore.

The little children grew up,
And soon moved away.
And the little children's mother,
Now a little old lady,
Was a little more lonely.

The little old lady
Then passed away,
In the little thatch cottage.
No one lived there again.

The little thatch cottage,
Got surrounded by the forest,
Then was struck by lightening,
And burned to the ground.

The little thatch cottage,
Is now no more.
Nature has taken it.
And it will never be returned.
I don't even know.......
Ms Ann Thrope Jun 2014
He dusted off the old rocking chair
& asked me to have a seat
He'd tell me what he was doing there
If I'd simply take a load off my feet

I found this gesture laughable
I would rather stand!
Then listen to another word
Uttered by this despicable Man!

But His confidence eluded Him
He knew I would protest
& yet I saw Him conceal a grin
At the denial of His request!

At this point, I couldn't even move
I could barely breathe
He acknowledged my discomfort, said,
"Very well" & took the seat!

As He sat there callously,
Scoping out the room
He said He just could not believe
The daffodils won't bloom!

This absurdity helped catch my breath
I quickly snapped to interject,
"**** the flowers! **** this place!"
& turned to flee with great hast!

This made Him chortle with much glee
He barked, "Silly, girl, you cannot leave! I know you've known this all along, The Cottage is where your Soul belongs!"

I felt so angry I could cry
I hit my knees & pleaded: "WHY?!
I kicked You out so long ago! Don't speak to me as if You know!"

& this is where the story twists:
He dropped His grin & stood up quick
Now, controlled by His brown eyes
Forced to hear His every lie:

"I know that we have been apart, But that's no excuse to neglect your heart, & that is why I'm here again, to protect you from yourself, My friend..."

& that's the moment I lost my mind
To hear Him call me "friend"
As if His love, I could deny!
(So, instead, I was forced to pretend)

But He already knew my tricks
We played this game before
All this time Our stubbornness
Is the very quality We adored!

So, while He tried to lecture me
I quickly stoked a match
I had laced The Cottage previously
& dropped it on a kerosine-soaked mat!

& as I laughed maniacally
at the seconds we had left
To my surprise He grinned idly
As We slowly burned to death...
Written August 2012
Ms Ann Thrope Jun 2014
It was definitely winter time as I trotted thru a foot of snow
My eyes were locked onto the sky;
my self-esteem was low
& yet I made it thru the field where daffodils once swayed
The Cottage laid 100 yards before me in mid-day
It's shutters had all fallen off, & only one remained
It's door was busted, rusted--all swallowed in decay
& yet I forced my entrance & stood  in the disarray  
(The fact of the matter is, I liked it better this way...)
The arms of the rocking chair were worn down to the bone
As pots & pans & tupperware were splashed around the home
At least a home it used to be but that was long ago....  
It seems it's one-time owner was knocked far from his thrown...
The windows were all busted out by rocks that laid the ground
The frost had overtook the place by more than heaps & bounds
It was obvious there'd been no visitors for more than many years
The less than freezing temperatures had made this crystal clear
& as I stood there shivering, thinking of the day
When this sight that laid before me was filled with sun & play
The Cottage was so perfectly constructed in this way
Children had once filled the field where daffodils once swayed
& now I had returned to complete my mission from the start
The plan, unfolding perfectly--The destruction of my heart.
Written May 23 2012, edited 2014

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