December’s Ghost
as I enter the small death of winter, slip into the darkness of its aging, aching skin I find that those memories of long ago days remain, lingering still, somewhere in the shadowy corners of these dust covered dreams buried where my darkest secrets are kept in the growing distances I keep as close…
Three Words
fall like delicate drops of blood from the raging wounds that corrupt as they soothe; A calming yet never tamed is the wild heart though caged in the screaming whispers of a shivering warmth for the lonely companionship of the comfortably disturbed always looking for that exit in the dark where love comes as a…
Ghost Children and the Haunted River
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
