It was the middle of night
when breaths stir air slowly
and nightmares descend
I was awake
When light goes out it can return
and water flows all over the world
above ground, below ground, it flows.
What of me?
That night horror clapped its hands
and sudden black draped my eyes
what will happen of me
when I die?
How can I ever say again,
"Life goes on," when it will stop
and I will be gone. How can I ever say,
"Later"?
What are the moments before death like?
Is it like sleeping, as they say?
Is it a silent scream? Is it peace?
Is it decay?
Will I rise and fall like water?
Will I simply become dust?
My self. My will. What will become
of "Me"?
Welcome to Our Humble Blog
a dear friend and i have decided to write again. in an effort to get our creative juices mutually flowing (skip past the innuendo and move on to the meat, yeah?), we've decided to co-author a blog and fill its, er, electronic pages with our work. however, to make things interesting and challenging, we have to abide by the following rules:
the rules:
creative criticism and other forms of comments are welcome.
the week starts tomorrow.
GAME ON!
the rules:
- 1 creative entry per week (7 days) minimum
- said entry must be new, and never before published
- said entry cannot be a review of any sort
- said entry may have no minimum, or maximum number of words
- old entries can be published provided that an introduction with dates is included before the main body of the work.
- failure to write a new entry as defined above will result in penalty for the offender in the form of treating the non-offending co-author to a meal, with drink of course.
creative criticism and other forms of comments are welcome.
the week starts tomorrow.
GAME ON!
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