Winds of the World

Desert-of-the-real

NaPoWriMo Day 9 Prompt is a 9 line poem. I am using Magic 9

The winds of the world are gathering, inciting glee in the evils of old.
The lives of the innocent are forfeited daily.
Soulless men with shiny black eyes are harbingers of doom, most bold.
Mouths foam from gas as lungs deflate.
Sand painted blood red creates anguished wails just as in revelations foretold.
Rumors of war may not be rumors.
Are those the thundering hooves of the horsemen here to collect dark, empty souls?
Life has no value as rapists rape and murderers torture, all rather gaily.
Dark shadows loom over our world ringing bells in a cacophonous death toll.

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When The Gray Birds Fly

pg-10-winter-pa_80102bNaNoWriMo #6

The day was gray and filled with clouds.

Birds flew against the white sky like silver flecks in a snow globe.

They say flocking birds fly taking souls to heaven.

The birds told me I was not in time.

I glanced at the flocking birds as numbness encapsulated my soul.

Disbelief crept into my thoughts as time was not on my side.

The birds flew higher with your soul as the silent ambulance flashed by.

Just days before our eyes met for the final time.

I knew it would not be long as gray had infiltrated you from the inside.

Gray clutched my heart and squeezed.

I knew you only had a little time.

You lay there warm and I stoked your hair, your face, your  hand.

I felt good as your suffering was gone.

I felt good as you were at peace in so many ways.

Gray silence was left in your wake.

Silence and the need for me to be strong.

The gray birds spirited away but you came back in a gossamer veil.

Like Lazarus you were transformed.  A new body, a new smile, eternal life.

You, the You, you could not be in life.

The better you, the happy you, that you could only be in death.

I was so happy to see you and know that things are better on the other side.

Cha-click-bang. Cha-click-bang.  Such an odd sound to awaken to,

It was you with one last message for me

Cha-click-bang. Cha-click-bang.  You demanded I get up out of a deep sleep.

Cha-click-bang. Cha-click-bang! I obeyed and went straight to your room.

As I walked that demanding whisper faded as alertness moved in.

Words you never told me, I heard for the first time whispered softly beneath the words of a song.

“I will always love you.”

I knew it was you talking to me for the last time.

It’s been six years since the gray birds flew.

Six years since that last whisper from you.

It will be a long time till we meet again.

That day will be gray and filled with clouds.

It will be a day when the flocking birds fly; fly my soul right up to heaven.

Until that day Dad…goodbye.

I will die at home, as I sleep, on a Friday.

NAPOWRIMO # 2 write a poem predicting your own death.

Peaceful  I will go.
I will die at home, as I sleep, on a Friday.
That is how I want to go.
Let me slip uneventful into the underworld.
Sprites and angels and heavenly bodies welcome me
with open arms and mellifluous voices.
Let me cross the dark abyss on a sailing ferry
complete with all my favorite niceties.
From escargot to wine and books….
From Paganini to shoes and lamb.
The risen lamb. The only lamb.
Salvation lamb.
Let me sail away with these things gambolling behind my eyes.
Let the smell of the sea be the last I draw in.
Let the waves gently rock me back and forth.
No fanfare needed.
No CSI. No NCIS. No “CLEAR.”
Just silence and a gentle release of my hand.
Peaceful is how I want to go.
I want to die at home, as I sleep, on a Friday.