SOUL REAPER

dark words under the full moon
blood spills into the circle of stone
a silent breeze stirs the trees
and Death rises from the shadows

blacker than night, a faceless void
red eyes of searching hunger
it strikes without so much as a whisper

BUNNY LOVE

sweet and soft as clouds they gather
two, then four, then eight, and more
perked ears peek up from cozy burrows
they greet the rising sun


in the meadows they frolick and play
they know only life, and love
soon more bunnies will join the herd.

SOUL BLOSSOM

from deepest blackness, first the stars
from nighttime, the sun
light brightens every surface, sparkling and warm
the first flower unfurls its petals
a center of precious nectar held within
a soul blossom

the breeze tugs and pulls it playfully
until the flower gives up its treasure
the soul is carried on winds of fate
and from there new life is born.

SWEET BEE

Nectar clings to fuzzy underbelly, rich and golden
the hive calls and she obeys, her flight drunken and heavy
demurely, dutifully, she deposits her sweetly stolen offering
nectar and pollen for the hive.

In return - sweet honey for her efforts.

LIFE IS NOW


live every moment, take every chance
run and play and hop and dance
life is now, and don't forget it
live every moment, or you'll regret it.

WINTER LAUREL

delicate blossoms peek forth from dense hedges
their tiny petals flutter in the chilled breeze
snow hangs heavy in the clouds ahead
ready to fall, and take the flowers with it

FROSTED MOSS

Mist gathers on thick, spongy moss,
Tiny pearls of delicate dewdrops form.

The sun shines through, and the droplets glisten,
Like diamonds in a crown of green.

But then a cold snap creeps through the night,
And the morning dew is frozen solid.

Tiny crystals reflect rainbow hues,
A fuzzy coat of frosty winter lies over the moss.

SONG OF MOURNING

The nest was empty, the eggs gone,
The birdsong filled with fear and dread.
They chirped and wailed and warbled,
A sound that pierced the morning air.

The mother bird flew round and round,
Her heart a broken thing.
She searched the branches high and low,
But her babies were nowhere to be found.

The father bird sat on a nearby branch,
His head in his feathers.
He could not believe that this had happened,
That their nest had been raided in the night.

"Who would do such a thing?" they cried.
"Who would take our eggs and leave us here?"
They searched the ground and trees and sky,
But there was no sign of the thief.

They had worked so hard to build that nest,
To gather the softest twigs and leaves.
They had laid their eggs with such care,
And now they were gone.

They sang of terror, grief, and anger.
Their voices filled the air with sound.
The world would know of their loss,
And they would never forget this day.

The birdsong slowly died away,
And the only sound was the wind in the trees.
The sun rose higher in the sky,
But the birds knew that their lives would never be the same.

But they would not give up hope.
They would rebuild their nest and lay new eggs.
And one day, their babies would fly free.

CROONING BOUGHS

The boughs are crooning in the night,
A lullaby of peace and rest;
The stars are shining overhead,
And all the world is hushed and blest.

The breeze is soft and balmy,
And the leaves are whispering low;
The flowers are closing their petals,
And the birds are silent in the bough.

I lie and listen to the crooning,
And I feel my heart grow calm and still;
I think of all the good and beautiful,
And I forget my grief and ill.

The crooning of the boughs is sweet,
It lulls me to a gentle rest;
I dream of happy days to come,
And forget the pain of the past.

VEILPIERCER

Beyond the veil of life or death,
The voices speak in truth.
They whisper in the nothing space,
of silence between breaths.

TELLTALE HEART

They come to him with secrets,
Told in hushed, trembling tones,
Confided in the hope
That he will keep them theirs alone.

He is the keeper of their secrets,
The deceiver of their souls.
He take what is yours and makes it his,
And will never let you go.

He is the master of lies,
The puppeteer of hearts.
He pull your strings to make you dance,
and loves to watch you fall apart.

He is a demon in disguise,
A monster in the night.
He will use you up and leave you,
With nothing but your pain and fright.

CHEERFUL CHIRP

As the sun crests the mountain peaks, and the darkness lays still and heavy over the world, a single bright and cheerful note pierces the quiet to greet the new day.

SNARED IN SEA AND FOAM


The sun bleeds into the ocean, staining the crests crimson with each defiant leap. Her mane, like curls of spun midnight sky, is plastered to her head, matted with salt and fury. The rhythm of the sea, once her lullaby, is now a whip, each surge driving her deeper into the foam-laced prison. Memories, fleeting as bubbles, prickle against her skin: whispered promises of a land beyond the tide, whispers carried on the backs of silverfish. But here, trapped in the ocean's emerald veins, the land is a mirage, shimmering just out of reach like a whispered wish.

And yet, a defiance flickers in her eyes. They burn like sapphires, twin points of rebellion against the tide's cold grip. There is steel in the set of her shoulders, a whisper of forgotten glory in the curve of her horn. For even in this liquid tomb, even chained to the very breath of the sea which robs her own lungs of air, her spirit beats on, fuelled by the promise and the unyielding hope of the shore. Her fight may seem endless, a dance without applause - but she dances still. For in the face of a boundless ocean, her defiance, however small, is a song sung against the roar. And she will sing it, until the tide itself hears, and perhaps, one day, remembers.

SWELL


Salt spray stings her nostrils, burning her lungs with every heaving breath. Her hooves churn the frothy surface, muscles coiling and bunching with a strength borne of fierce determination. Each pull drags the lifeless weight further against the current, a war dance between flesh and saltwater. The ocean growls, gnashing its teeth of foam, scraping at her flanks with icy claws. But still she does not give in, and surges ever forward against the swell, the limp form on her back a constant reminder of her purpose.

And then, a break in the waves. She reaches the shore, heaving the limp form onto the sand, her own body trembling with exertion. Gently, she nudges the limp head, licks roughly at closed eyes to rouse them open. Then suddenly a gasp. A tremor. The form stirs. Eyes flutter beneath the seaweed-tangled mane. Relief. She breathes out a low rumble of satisfied exhaustion. The ocean recedes, sullen, its hungry whispers fading into the sighing rhythm of the retreating tide. They watch it go, the two of them, the rescued and the rescuer, bound by a thread woven from courage and salt.

HEAT HAZE


The sun, a molten stone, dripped fire across the parched plains. Heat shimmered, a mirage woven from dust and longing. Palm trees drooped their heads, their fronds whispering secrets to the wind that dared not rise. In that shimmering tapestry, a lone figure, cloaked in crimson, walked - leaving ephemeral hoofprints in the sweltering sand, a fleeting brushstroke against the canvas of the burning sky.