Writer. Gothic Soul. Woodland Spirit.
Knobby curled knucklesscratch across the bedroom wall,the shadows of gnarled, bare branches,cast by the globular harvest moon.The shapes sway in the windin an ominous dance,beckoning me outsideto join in the celebration of night. From my book Gothic Souls.
I was meant to be a fictional character But I was born as flesh and bone My strange abilities are going to waste Plodding through this world alone I need a script to follow, a story arc I'm lost here on my own I'm not demanding a leading role Hide me away in the dark... Continue Reading →
Now the doubt creeps in like a warning in the wind Am I sure I even heard it? After all, I've found my place, I've earned it plucking poems from my head like guitar strings or almost ripe fruit Sometimes they're good Sometimes they're almost music But some days I'm flagging Some days I'm dragging... Continue Reading →
I have filled my home with the spirits of the things I want to preserve, to save and protect them from the outside world. They spin their webs in quiet corners and haunt all my halls, safe from the real horrors that beat and claw at the outside walls. From my book Gothic Souls.
I like my smiles wry And my humor dry There's an elegance In the art of understatement I'll say what I have to say Then slink out of the way Sometimes the joke lands Sometimes no one understand If you get it You're my kindred spirit
I have ventured too deepinto your wilderness,forging my own footpathsin your treacherous territory.When others called off the search party,I was still getting lost in your ways,trying to find the real you.I have not yet lost hope. From my book Gothic Souls.
Lay me down on this bed of line-dried linens, my head, dizzy like sugar, comforted by the pillow's soft chill. Kiss me goodnight but do not wake me from this delirious state of half-wakefulness, one foot in the land of dreams, devoid of gravity, where I can fool myself that the beauty I imagine exists.... Continue Reading →
The element of surprise has nothing on me I've been here all along, waiting patiently The best-kept secret As subtle as a moonlit night Waiting for the timing to be right I'm not asking for the spotlight I don't need my moment to shine But when you notice me When your eyes focus on me... Continue Reading →
I would write my poems in dead languages to bring them back to life for a spell. The one thing that won't fade or age is this love I have, though I can't tell you yet, hesitating at this crossroads, hoping you'll pick up enough clues to decipher me and crack my code. I'm afraid... Continue Reading →
I seek the golden light of inspiration In the momentary hush at dusk As the day slips from my grasp And I take in my hands what I can clutch Before the thought I chase disappears To be replaced by reckless fears I pin it to a canvas I splash it on a page And... Continue Reading →
Michelle Wicklow 