Tiny creatures, eerie and child like visit me in the nights I am sleepless playing games of hide and seek under my eyelids where in half dreams I see them watching with their over sized heads the shape of rotting melons and their sunken in eyes, hard, endless dark pits of decaying innocence taunting me…
The Language of Poetry and Dreams
Voices scream out from the fog of sleep into the conscious whisper of dreams waking silences of the heart speaking forgotten truths from the depths of those far away places within…… ©Debbie Berk
The Burning
Love is the ghost fire rising from the smoke of our burnt out desires, the shadow of a whisper that remembers our name returning hearts to flame ©Debbie Berk / 2/16/2015
The Poetic Flesh
I think of you, thoughts that touch me like the naked whispers of your poetic flesh I long to write my dreams upon ©Debbie Berk / 11/14/2014
