| Dark Skighs The darkest skighs lurk above my tearful eyes. I stand there looking up for even a shimmer of light, and it starts to pour. The rain falls, streaming my cheeks, mixing with the tears. Completely drenched now, I start to shiver. My mind is drifting to a warm fire - lit room, where flames are dancing. That is when he appeared, ripping my mind back to the bitter cold present. I gazed into his eyes. I saw the light I was searching for and felt a wave of sunlight wash over me. I felt safe. It stopped raining. Copyright �2002 Rhiannon S. Davies |
| Darkness Sometimes I feel like I'm sitting alone in a world of darkness, filled with shallow people. Lonliness overtakes me, into a world of saddness and despair. In this world, not one single person is smiling. I want so much to be in the colorful world with laughter and happiness. I was born in a dark room with evil minds, killing intentions and dark souls. Trying to light my feelings, I trip and fall into the darkest hour of life. I live in a world sick and chaotic, hoping one day it'll change. I struggle to find the candle of light, the candle of goodness. Mad scroundrels and crying angels suffer deeply and start to decay. I sleep, drifting into a peaceful place, I dream true of amnesty. Withering away to nothing, I dream peacefully. I achieve the inconceivable. There was a light coming from a little crack in the skigh. The barrier of darkness and corruption that surrounded the Earth, crumbled. It disappeared into the air like a black fog. The extinction of humans almost. My dream though cured the despair. Dream wise and dream true or before you know it, this poem will come true. Copyright �2002 Rhiannon S. Davies |
 |
| Poetry Page 7. |
|
| Back To Index. |
| A flower shines on my wall, a reflection somewhere from the sun. As the sun hides behind a fluffy cloud, the reflected flower slowly fades. It is gone. I wonder when I will see it again. Feeling creative today, I write this poem, wondering if I should be playing my guitar. But mom is sleeping, I wish not to wake her. Maybe draw a picture, my mind is blank, can not think of a thing. My bird clock sounds quietly, for I have the lights off. Often I have asked for an angel to watch over me. I wish to feel his presence. I can hear Snoopy constantly flying his plane on windy days. He used to keep me awake, but it is such a familiar sound now. Many emotions have I experienced within this year, much has happened. Yet i feel my life hasn't progressed much. I am where I was one year ago. Wondering, wishing, hoping. The sun is back and the flower is gone. I love you Wesley, my son, my angel. Copyright �2002 Rhiannon S. Davies |
|