The Watcher in the Tower

Eyes staring through the glass, piercing like daggers in the night.
Afraid to look at the shadow in the window, slowly fading, disappearing.
Screaming winds harden my bones stepping through the cemetery.
Light from above pulling me near, consuming fear, yet inviting terror.
Squealing hatch opens, a sinister laugh increasing with every
 ascending step. The smell of a hundred dead souls fill the air, a drop of blood falls on my brow. I turn to run, the stairs vanish, the light dies; there is only blackness. At the top I stare out the window into the cemetery, I see a shadow.

Copyright 1996

               Poetry
                      
                       Summers Off

You still sit there on your liquid pedestal, even though your pride has been ripped apart by that large hole in your side.
Your beaming face smiling at the sun, the make-up fading deep into the bowels of the ocean.
This season you're not free to run with the wind; so you settle for an occasional rocking motion caused by an angry wake or entangled lovers in the night.
You lay there dreaming of having your arms stretched out high in the air; this is when true serenity fills the cracks and crevices.
If you had tear ducts, your endless crying would flood the seas; you're dying a slow painful death.
Stay calm my old friend, it is one summer in the life filled with many; by this time next year we will both be healed.
                      
                 Beginnings

A lonely window scarred by rain
Sunshine dries the pane

Snow capped mountains thaw to cry
Scrapers dominate the sky

Ageing stone falls from a cliff
Driftwood flows down a river o so swift

Caterpillar crawls over a newly planted seed
Butterfly rests on a fully bloomed flower

A minute, a decade, a lifetime, or an hour