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Zachary G Sep 2019
Fire sprites
Slowly through
Winds far and wide
Blow through
The flames spread
The raging dance the
Proud glance
You rage forward through
The nights roar blowing out
The light, Hiding
Waiting in the darkest
Blackest of night
Ray Dunn Jul 2019
When the power grid crashes,
let's dance under the streetlights--
lit up only by the moon
and the tree sprites
Dreamy vibes
Nikos Kyriazis Nov 2018
Deep inside the wrinkles
of the Blue Mountains
Cold air sits upon
the primitives' throne

Inky echoes stroll the alleys
No living essence have ever
trespassed these halls

Sun's breathe becomes pale
as it touches the gloomy
foothills and crests  

Merely sprites wearing
mantles made of mist
dwell this mountainous region

Even rain seldom visits
to pierce the ghastly silence

Amidst the fog
forgotten tokens may hide
In riddles of old and
astral vague light
Outside Words Oct 2018
At an unknown time of night at our cottage in northern Michigan…
My younger brother and I heard strange noises coming from the beach again…
We looked up at the ceiling and then the window…
As the voices from outside, in a lively allegro…
Grew softer and louder in repeating crescendos…
We skittered out the door and stared in fascination…
For what we saw must have been our imagination…

The door closed with a creak as our feet hit the grass…
It was at that moment we got a look at the mass…
Of stubby foot, hunchback creatures from which the sounds had amassed…

There was about six of them chanting like a choir…
They danced and paraded around our burnt out fire…
As we looked on, we saw our fire raise…
It got brighter as they lifted their hands in waves…
As light betook the blue beach night…
A crowd of colorfully masked gremlins caught us in their sights!

Their feet slowed to a stop and they quieted down…
They stood still as the fire flickered off their weird wooden frowns…
One reached out his hand in a come-here motion…
They seemed to stand and wait with an encouraging notion…
As the fire crackled and the waves tumbled onto the beach…

All I can remember, is for the rest of that summer…
My younger brother and I served as the drummers…
For that quirky marching band of lake sprites…
With which our burnt out fire we’d reignite…
At an unknown time of night at our cottage in northern Michigan…
© Outside Words
Bodies abolished
Floating souls
Space wind
Spirit bones
Waiting hidden
Beyond blackness
Wherein darkhails
Find Yourself

— The End —