The Guest

Frosty heights of wilful winds
Will connive to stubbornly dance
Raging come in icy spells
Sailed a boat, meek at row

The lighthouse is a distant dream.
Away the ocean ebbs. Sunbeams
Miss the tide once more
The happy stranger was here.

Game

What a burnt night it is
A youthful moon
Like a lark plays unfazed.
Tawny grasslands dark and wild
Sprint with every wind.
A glinting claw
Holds its breath still
Afraid it will echo.
Stars linger in the pearly sky
Nerves taut wait fearfully
While a heart pounds on
This quiet, rasping tonight—
Determined to avenge.

Once

A reverie of a crushing lilt
A rise that is all alone.
Rapt in a slow undoing
A forlorn fall that is alive calls
It is here.

Glimmering there waits a golden air
A dutiful clock is ticking bright
Though time refuses to stir,
Musing stubbornly of an azure noon; when
It was here.

Intrigue

Here to avenge, entered
Swinging, clinging lies
The insolent sneer
Sharpened its arms—
They were already here
Speaking in hushed tones.

Clouding shadows flocked in again
Looking for someone
And not a stranger that was.
In the muted glow of the street light
Perhaps threw once
A searing glance
At the dangling bit of a truth.

Amiss

Woolly clouds snowing light
Warm cuddled a crimson urge.
A wrathful storm was lurking by
Gliding on a frosty trail.

Blazing arose, bewitched,
A violin tune cascaded him
The shutterbug was missing
When words came flying
Humming a little on
A folded newspaper boat.