Black Lake

Black lake, with shores of shattered bone,
An evil place, so cold like stone,
Where carrion hangs and bodies rot,
Where wounded souls are soon forgot.

Black lake, with waves that rock the boat,
All prayers are lost though said by rote,
Where mists conceal the waiting eyes,
Where calling voices spread their lies.

Black lake, where chilling wind does blow,
With white caps forming, just as snow,
Where ‘neath the water creatures wait,
Where careless hands will hang like bait.

Black lake, the place where I am bound,
No more to step on solid ground,
Where I will lay and rest my head,
Where ever now I’ll hold the dead.

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Wait For Me

I saw this news story today, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-41310591
and it inspired me to write this. I hope you like it…

As darkness comes, your eyes to dim,
The endless sleep set to begin,
Wait for me, dear, wait for me.
As now your show comes to its end,
The winding path you’re set to wend,
Wait for me, dear, wait for me.
As slowly now your heart does cease,
And finally you find your peace,
Wait for me, dear, wait for me.
For how can I still stand a life,
Without my ever loving wife,
When years we’ve spent as two not one,
My glowing moon, my shining sun,
I will not carry on alone,
Wait for me, dear, wait for me.

Lay Before You

The last I see, as I pay my due,
Lunar light, a kind of blue,
It casts a glow across your skin,
As I lay before you bleeding.

The last I hear, as I say goodbye,
Evening birds, they fly so high,
It drowns the words I want to say,
As I lay before you bleeding.

The last I feel, as I start to fade,
Coming cold, from dew it’s made,
It causes skin to start to cool,
As I lay before you bleeding.

The last I smell, as I lose my breath,
Perfume sweet, that stains your breast,
It calls to mind those happy days,
As I lay before you bleeding.

The last I taste, as I close my eyes,
Bitter words, in throat so dry,
The sorry left unspoken now,
As I lay before you bleeding.

Strange Fruit

What hangest there, ‘midst corpses cold?
Strange fruit ‘pon trees of bone, so old.
A taste of poisoned flesh, tho’ spoiled,
The nectar from within like oil.
Amongst the unnamed tombs, so bare,
Strange fruit, so pregnant hanging there.
Dark shadows cast, bone orchard limbs,
As fingers pointing out thy sins.
To tread amongst the ghostly trees,
Strange fruit is seen where once were leaves.
What rotting bodies roots do find?
That pry and search, the earth to grind.
Where bodies buried, crying done,
Strange fruit will ripe, despite the sun,
And when we come, and lay to rest,
What birds will fly to make their nest?
And so whilst moon does show its shine,
Strange fruit will blossom, over time.
Where dead do lay, for years and years,
I’ll water roots, with all my tears.

Rooms Of The Dead

This is a piece that suddenly arrived, and had to be written. It hasn’t happened like this for a long time and I’ve missed it. I hope you like it, morbid though it is.

All is quiet,
In the rooms of the dead,
Where the dust of what’s past
Lies deep.
A shadow, it grows,
In the silvery glow
Of a moon that forbids me
To sleep.

All is dire,
In the rooms of the dead,
Where the dreams of the dark
Do creep.
My memory shows,
With the pictures it knows,
A dark past with such secrets
I keep.

All is final,
In the rooms of the dead,
Where the truth of the soul
Is bleak.
All punishment owed,
And for whom the bell tolls,
A dark sowing is now mine
To reap.

The Moon Alone Bore Witness

This is a bit of a dark one, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

The leaves were dry and formed a crust,
Each footstep broke the peace.
Her muffled screams from ‘neath my hand
Were drowned in noise at least.
And as we reached the clearing dark,
The moon alone bore witness.

Her eyes betrayed the fear she felt,
True feelings kept beneath.
In supplication begging me
‘pon hand and bended knee.
But as my resolution held,
The moon alone bore witness.

I cast about for prying eyes,
For reason so to cease.
But night was still and we alone
My wanton need increased.
And as my hands took up their deed,
The moon alone bore witness.

The captured soul from in the breast,
Makes not a sound released.
But at the point of life removed
My cry was as a beast.
And as her final light was dimmed,
The moon alone bore witness.

I left the body ‘neath the stars,
Laying now in peace.
Once more my sickness had been quelled
My inner blackness eased.
And throughout all my evils deeds,
The moon alone bore witness.

The Crows Are Flying Again

Another one that started with the title / final line of each verse, and formed itself around them. I hope you like this one.

Beyond the hills there is a tree,
A bough thats grown for death,
The fraying rope of hangman’s noose
Steals my final breath;
If eyes are cast up to the sky,
Where on their way clouds wend,
You’ll see the watchers on the wing,
The crows are flying again.

Behind the church an endless pit,
A hole to lay my bones,
Enclosing earth to bury me
No chance left to atone,
If ears are tuned to laughing caw,
The silence it forfends,
You’ll hear the feathered judges sing,
The crows are flying again.

Beneath the ground there is a fire,
Eternally it burns,
No more for me the living air,
My world no longer turns.
In cruel lament the ringing cries
Confirm my coming end,
My final thought as long I sleep,
The crows are flying again.