Raven's House
By: Lee E. Shilo
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Lee E. Shilo
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Raven's House
Dark Poetry
By:
Lee E. Shilo
Early Morning Dawn
Ah, there is nothing quite like the quiet and still of the early morning dawn, when one's thoughts are but beginning, and there is no clutter, aggravations, or toll taking of the days events.
When one's mind is pure, and clear to write, and thoughts come pouring in so profound, you can hardly keep up with penning them to paper.
With one's favorite beverage, and habit of choice, sitting waiting for the thoughts to form in an ever rushing tidal force.
A best pencil, pen, or typing contraption, is at the ever-ready, and you begin to write till early mornings light, and the day comes rushing in too quickly.
The words slowly fade, as life awakens to disorient and disturb your train of thought.
The pen is put away, for another day has begun as you wait patiently for another moment, to write once more in that soft embrace of early morning dawn.
Raven's House
lite dark poetry
Chapter I
Star Cloth
What piece of heaven is this,
that I should never want or need,
for anything but heavens bliss,
and have no need to feed?
What is this place of amber honey,
this place in arum shafts of light,
no need of food or money,
only starlight's shinning bright?
Those luscious orbs of golden glow,
a warmth so fine and tender.
A place I do not know,
a place where I'll surrender.
Star cloth does cover me around,
and in its fragile wrap.
Soft as ever I have found,
a peaceful loving trap.
Like clouds of feathered down,
it swaddles me up tight.
The warmest warmth I've ever found,
I'll sleep in it tonight.
Railing Ridge
He could hear the cars go by,
and now and then a horn.
He did hear a midnight sigh,
upon a full moon, warn.
Do not go up on the bridge,
this light and starry night.
Or upon its' railing ridge.
Or stand in full, moonlight.
You lost souls, must stay lost,
underneath this bridge.
And keep self-council at a cost,
of very little sleep.
For beneath this bridge,
you make your bed,
this is where you dine.
This is where you're always fed,
on fear, and cheap red wine.
Fog
One step into the thickened fog,
and figures disappear.
Some sink beneath the murky bog,
and fewer reappear.
A cool blanket, wet and cold,
is this fog that falls on all.
It wraps around the young and old,
in Winter, Spring and Fall
It shows no favor to its hunt,
no guilt or sorrowed fear.
Not any great beast or its runt,
succeeds in breaking clear.
From this fog an evil's found,
laying shallow in the ground,
beneath the murky bog.
Dark Sounds
Disappeared and far from sight,
it lays slowly dying.
Deep and dark into the night,
hear it faintly crying.
Whimpered whispers reach my ears,
with pleading softly ending.
Of fear and pain and flowing tears,
such agony it's sending.
I look to see, but cannot find,
a person, place, or thing.
It is so dark, and I'm half blind,
what torture it does sing.
Now, as daylight grows so near,
I can even barley hear,
that sound that's slowly dying
A Dead Mans Name
A secret gaze was all it took,
at a gravestone, I did look,
upon a dead mans grave.
I read a name, I know not who,
an undistinguished date there too.
I read the dead mans name.
No sorrow came,
nor rage or pain,
just a silent contemplation.
Who was this man, his claim to fame?
He was a dead man, just the same,
and now it matters not.
I know not who he was in life,
if he had a child and wife,
or if he made his mark?
All I know, while standing here,
is life is precious, life is dear,
love life while you can.