Sunday 19 April 2015

Midnight creeps

  The night is empty
  dark and creepy,
   unlike usual night
   with only full moon shining 
    and mad dogs howling

    As clock strikes twelve,
     the souls of dead
     wakes up from bed
      not made of roses 
      but made of dead

      The ghosts strolls,
        the living repose,
       while the dead spin
        the web of trapping
         the living soul 

         When all the demons
          sings the songs of fear,
          she hums the rhymes of revenge,
          of her life taken 
          by the one she loved.

         She didn't want to scare,
          She didn't want to kill,
           She wanted to know
            the truth so precious
             than her lost life 
             
             She swings to and fro 
              from the place she was hung
               while her killer sleeps
               like an innocent child,
                unaware of his victim
                 smiling, ready to take him
                 to a place between life and death

Farmer’s pride

The farmer stares, At open skies, Hopelessly searching, For fluffy thick clouds. To his dismay, The sky is blue, The sun is out, Shining sha...