#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo Day 9
Cold breath in the shadows
Raspy voices in the distance
A disconcerting huff
Changing to laughter
Cold as the night
From beyond the graves
Rises a specter of noises
Are they real, or only I hear
Whispers that bruise
My soul and tear apart
My frightened heart!
I shudder and wonder
Is it really all in my mind?
Poetry inspired by the book cover for Andrew Lang. The Book of Dreams and Ghosts. London ; New York ; Bombay : Longmans, Green, 1897 — Source.
#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo Day 8
The poise with which
We must live life
Oft eclipsed by its strife
Is to embrace all
The Autumnal shades
As the wisest of us
Have eventually learned
It can’t always be Spring
Poetry inspired by the book cover for Walter Crane. A Floral Fantasy in an Old English Garden. London: Harper, 1899
#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo Day 7
Delicate cotton whispers
Caressing my lonely soul
With promises unspoken;
I sink deeper into slumber
Where my dreams are of
The stars, moon, and you.
If the Earth spins backwards
And Time turns anti-clockwise
Would you still wait for me
At the other side of midnight
Under the shooting stars
And the lonesome skies?
Poetry inspired by the book cover of Max Wolf. Die Milchstrasse. Leipzig : Johann Ambrosius Barth, 1908 — Source.
#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo Day 6
Under the twilight sky
I spread my wings,
Beyond the haze of restrain
My mind melts like
Floating ice on sherbet
Under a pink moon
In a summer glaze
A resolve that breaks
A resilience that fails
Poison on the rocks
Trickles into nooks
Submerging my soul
In a golden liquid
Trying to soothe
With shallow intoxication
My drenched heart
That bleeds crimson!
Poetry inspired by the book cover of The Magic of Science: A Book of Amusements by A. Frederick Collins, New York: Fleming H. Revell, 1917.
#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo Day 5
All through the days so cold
I wanted to write
But the words had died
Slithering away in a whirlpool
Of frantic anxiety;
I stood at the threshold
Surrounded by the bellows of
Unrelenting stress and misery
I could barely stay afloat
Wallowing in fear and self-pity,
When they knocked at my door
I struggled to make sense
Of those jumbled letters.
So, I shut them all out –
Now no one will ever know
The stories those words told!
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Blue Pen Strokes 