creative writing, original piece, poem, poetry, writing

Angels Light

Angels switch off stars

blackbirds begin a new song

chirping Sun awake

Moon moves on

soothing restless souls to sleep

owls observe from shady trees

Day and Night switching places

following the world’s slow spin

continuing our hearts duet

coaxing the solos of lonely beats

twirling with Times swirl

pulsating to the tick tock

flicking of Angels light.

creative writing, Fiction, original piece, poem, poetry, writing

Winters Sky

Daisy chains stitched into her hair

rigidly pinned into a crown

each bud an honourable kill

a new chain for another battle won

no gaps, no losses

as erect as a tree

but as strong as stone

broader than any giant known

armour heavier than marble

plainer than winters sky

she swings her sword high

faster than a shooting star

and jabs it through your plates

puncturing your flesh

exploding like wildfire

decorating the ground red

birds and roses coat her helmet

tricking dying eyes to believe

they’re already in heaven

until she flicks the visor down

forcing birds to flee

petals falling from beaks

leaving weeds behind

revealing eyes as burnt as coals

you’ll screech for Lucifer’s help

creative writing, original piece, poem, poetry, writing

Leading to Hope

Leaving sand behind

along with dizzy sweats

parting the waves

limbs relaxing

sinking under cold comfort

lungs aching

after sucking too much air

stars waver, wriggling blurred directions

as water knots hair

sparks so close together

sealing the gap, leading to hope

maybe lines in roads do join up

creative writing, Fiction, flash fiction, original piece, writing

The Stars Won’t See Us

The stars don’t hear a lone voice blending with everything else of this universe.

The eagles short, white feathers flash in between the never ending fall of the black sky. This thick darkness swirls around the motionless light blue waves, which are full of squeaking fish slowly chasing prey.

The morning rush hour speeds and swerves around my flat body as it rests in the salty sand. Barmen hand out crunchy ice cream to the passengers on planes that can’t fly, while kites help people laying on the ground, or floating in the ocean, to stand up.

It’s not unusual for dogs to hate walking on the pavement, preferring to splash in the sweet river, along with feisty squirrels, underneath the sharks which cling to the tops of juniper trees, snapping their blunt fangs in the misty, colourless air.

The petrified owls resting on my arms see what I cannot say. We don’t see the silent stars, we see the breathing planets. There is life that we all remember living – at some point – on one of those lonely globes. The birds lie when they screech barks of the world’s ending. This world can never end because it’s not alive.