(Poem-Something On the Wind)

In honor of the revamped layout, I will brave sharing one of my poems.  Newest one at the moment (need to get back to writing more frequently), and the title is still a working one. Hope you enjoy it. 


The wind is calling the names of lovers not yet;
Like the motion of shaking sheets,
On the grassy ground above a cellar-
That grows mossy with the dripping bacteria.
And I'm cold inside.

Those Inquisition candles now burn only a reader's mind.
Stimulating particles growing macabre,
Growing sad with the waking, darker hours.
I'm stung a hundred times in one dream;
Waking confused within the buzz.

So I roll, upon the safest convent tile-
Smiling insanely between the moss
In thoughts of my own novels.
And reach, to caress...
The place for listening beyond refurbished windows-
For names upon the wind.

And reach, to caress...
In a hushed encounter by the door.
Followed separately by premature ice
thats grows like mold