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Sean Fitzpatrick Dec 2013
Good morning secret readers
I'd like to tell
of something I saw pass my window
last night.

Last night
though a moonless night
was fret with strange rumblings
and pitter patterings
all about my house.
Pah, was it a mouse?
No, it was my spouse
lit up from her sleep
by who knows what, but
she was spinning
there mumbling
in a sleeptalk.

And she says, and she says to me
"Arlia, my husband,
over the many years you have done me
no misfavor, but I would like to
request a simple repose
away from the stink of your feet.
I, for the life of you,
could never tell you myself.
Love,
the nose."

And just then, I noticed
the bell of a great brass horn
leave my room through the window;
it had been there all along.
Confused, I leapt
to see who was now snickering:
a fat fairy baby who had been
singing mischief into my dreams.
Fat fairy! Thanks
to you, I dip my
feet in Epsom salt...
Gigi Tiji Oct 2014
sitting with stars,
we sip on silences —

between soft sighs,
twinkling eyes, and
pleasant pitter-patterings —

we drip kindness,
rain drops, and
endless moonrises
Adrian Betz Jun 2019
The wilds set to sleep as I took a step outside
Into the white fields of the forest winter scape
Fleeting for the moment, timeless for the ages
Is this a dream or death that found me

Hearken to the choir of the weeping wolves
To the patterings of the riverbed running cold
As they seem to reveal their dearest dark secrets
The embers surrender to the falling snow

A tale twice to tell
The seeds for a shade I will never sit within

Once we were here
With a silent wish to send into the night
A small stroke on the canvas of life
The breath of season-coloured hope
Bed for the traveler finally coming home
Endless the days
That carried on with each early rising sun
Now to bide the second before dawn
Here we’ll rest until our time will come
Welcoming the last of the wilds


Was the thought of the journey the only thrill
That nourished the nights with consolace and awe
Did youth give its strength not for me but to rest
This cradle of life a graveyard of man





©2018, Adrian Betz
Lyrical cover for the Nightwish-song of the same name.
Roses79 Jan 2019
And I am released,
in a wash of flowing lines,
All by the tone of my skin,
the wave of my hair,
and the curve of my lips.

And the streets open before me,
with patterings of rain, tinkering on metal,
Echoes of footsteps,
resound in space and the dripping air.

Drops, scattered like broken glass,
on the sidewalk,
wash over my feet,
with each step taken away.

— The End —