ravens at the window
fate sits on a sill
the secrets of time blows
wherever it wills
branches reach like fingers
long, thin and black
the loneliness lingers
with no time to turn back
preparing their nests
while the storm makes its way
a safe shelter for rest
at the end of the day
the cold chill of winter
hangs still in the air
as darkness reenters
spring is lingering near
the moon peeks through the stillness
casting long shadows of dread
fear never forgets
how to provoke the dead
silently now they resist
the mighty pull of despair
as the dew gently kisses
the frozen path to nowhere
About the Creator
Kelli Sheckler-Amsden
Telling stories my heart needs to tell <3 life is a journey, not a competition
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More stories from Kelli Sheckler-Amsden and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Devil's Cut
“Comrade, finally you’re awake.” The voice was smooth, sensual. A flickering incandescent bar was all that lit the white, sterile room. All Vladimir remembered was everything going black. He tried to move his arms and found them strapped to the gurney.
By Matthew J. Fromm7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
This is one way to look at the changing of the seasons.
Hey, that's in my neighborhood. A nobody from nowhere. But the frozen dew might find a few challenges here. It's raining right now.
Oooo, so dark and intense! Loved it so much!
Great concept and title pairing!! Loved “fear never forgets how to provoke the dead”
Oh...love this...so gothic and dark...sounds like something classic, almost Poe-esque.