I display my collection of skeletons openly on my wrist
Only employing their usage if someone carelessly insists
They jingle, jangle, clack
My bleached bracelet of many bones
Clattering and bumping into each other
Waiting for a black corner to call home

I wear my assemblage of dancing skeletons on my wrist
Dangerous they are
Besotted with madness  
Sometimes I simply cannot resist

Taking one, two or perhaps three and giving them a toss
Calling secrets from their crafted tombs
Time, deeds and scars
Glittering jewels of a humans emotional wall

So if you see me with bones around my wrist
Cease your scheming despot take heed and desist
Lest I take another one of these skeletons and give it a toss
And watch your dreams descend into that they call
The long walk.


@ copyright Tammy M. Darby April 11, 2018.

I care if little you pass by disease, gun or knife
Only that I have your pulsing life
You may jump off tall buildings or plunge into the sea
As long as your dead
That is how it must be

You may drive your car off the highest cliff
Or fall from metal planes in the skies
Understand it is of no concern to me
As long as you are not left alive

Counting the souls one thousand and ten score
Its become quite evident
I will require many more

Go to your grave by the hand of man
Or befell by sickness become ill
Die how you wish that's your choice
Because I have a quota to fill

You cannot escape me by conspiring
Or upon me devils beset
I am here for you
Your name is on my list
Respectfully yours
Death


All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby April 9, 2018.

When asked where he dwell
He replied
In the house of grief.
My heart is broken and soul torn
Bound to a memory
A decaying corpse
That died gasping in my arms
Her name upon my trembling lips

As life left my beloveds body
Though now long placed in the ground
Those who know me mutter under their breath
They say she makes no sound
And I am insane

In the endless aching hours
And long watches of the night
A wraith appears before me
When the red tailed comet flies

The moon is on the wane
Reflected in the waters eye
In between the cold worlds
I listen for her cries


I asked gently with pity
Why is it must you stay  
Until your mind can bear no more
  Forever and a day

He replied
By mans law she is dead
Her body in the ground
I watched them lovingly lay
In my insanity she lives
Curse them I care not what they say

So dead he was when it was they found him
It was as he swore
In the house of grief
He remained
Until the time came
She called his name no more



All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Feb. 19, 2018.

See little in the breath of life
Despair and strife shadow their hearts  
Cruelly and without mercy command their minds
Darkness touch is ever so blindingly sweet
The light of the living never meet
In the murmurings of a quivering night

Those who worship the God of Death
Seek no glimpses into a heart
Long ago they decreed
All love depart
Forfeiting that which made them human
Sacrificed on the altar of their cold demanding god

Those who worship the God of Death
Wander in silence and stealth
Caring not for influence, lineage or social plight
It is inconsequential
In a world where emanates no light


For them darkness touch is ever so blindingly sweet
The light of the living never meet
In the murmurings of a quivering night
When the world becomes silent and  emanates no light
Those who worship the God of Death delight.

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Feb. 2, 2018.

...is a spray  
of sweet, nagging fragrance
borne by a rush of air
it touches nostrils as it travels,
to stimulate, and to scintillate
the flashing of memories
especially, when distance is great
and truly separates...

it could be the bouquet of a single rose,
or a handful of jasmine....or,
the welcome smell of cinnamon,
sage, nutmeg and other spices that
bring out the fragrances of good cooking,
or those of sweat and a fruity cologne
blending while working
from caring....from loving.
::::::::::::
it's a brush of summer wind
that captures, even a bit of a sniff
of any, or all of those scents.
:::::::::::::
a smell so pleasant
that dwells in the senses
and brings calm to one's soul.

the nose...the other senses know,
the heart and the mind know
the summation
of all these fragrances.
:::::::::::::::
no perfume could ever equal
the scent(s) of a woman.
:::::::::::::::


Sally

Copyright January 30, 2018---10:40 PM
rrab