Halloween Countdown 2012: Requiem for the House of Never

The Halloween countdown continues.

I've a firm belief that we are shaped by the time of year we are born. Being born in the fall I'm smitten by the colorful falling leaves, the smell of fires shifting on the breeze, the Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas Holidays, etc. This is the time of the year that I feel most excited to be alive. My roommate has joined in the spirit as well, decking out the house in Halloween fare. I create Halloween soundtracks, jot down ideas for spooky tales, and put on Death Becomes Her or the the old Night Gallery series.

I've never considered myself a poet, though I like how this particular one turned out. This was an assignment in my college poetry class several years ago. The ending needs help but here it is in the rough.

Requiem for the House of Never

Spring-heeled Jack

With a whiskey sour

Ramparts and brambles

Raped by wisteria vines

Murder, Murder most foul

On the back of London’s Hyde

Crickets howl

Through dank recesses of evils’ Ripper

Souls tattered, 

Requiem residence in wistful horror

The Soul Net torn

The Writer's Dream

I failed to sign up for Six Sentence Sunday in time this week; pure exhaustion from my work schedule took it's toll. In its place I'll offer up my first go at poetry, written many moons ago. It was fun to write and share, although it is clear that poetry isn't my purple jelly bean. 

In the interim, please visit a few of my favorite Six Sentence Sunday participants: L.J. Kentowski, Wendy S. Russo, Loni Flowers, Mackenzie Crowne, and Mae Clair. 

The Writer's Dream

They spent they're lives under a veil

of uncertainty, fear, disappointment

plagued by the omens that make them who they are

and dreams that make them who they will be

Finding serenity in the kindred

who know the same pain

enduring tempests that bend them

They reach for words that

contain meanings beyond meanings

stenciling images of their minds

Lonely in their quest

searching for others who share their vision

who find joy in the meaning they see in life

They are the ones whose dreams and thoughts

shape an unshapeable world

together making the unreal plausible

realizing their truths as life

A select group of hearts sharing the same soul

a solemn soul with an intense story to tell

scribed into the flesh of many hearts

by nothing more than a quill and a bottle of ink

Thank you for stopping by.  Now, I must sleep.