Ghostly mists arise and hover,
above the valley floor it covers,
mountain walls surround and hide,
the evil secrets that reside.
When happiness pushes through and in,
a bloody horror stabs and wins,
What is this mess that is so wrong?
A sickening stench so sick and strong.
But love so great, the only answer,
Can overwhelm this evil cancer,
Shining down from God most High,
Is peace and love, then horror dies.
by L. M. Montes
The ride it lulls,
the pavement hums,
outside is beauteous and sweet,
but then life shows its hidden pockets
of sin and scarring so sheik.
It needs to go,
hands move to save,
it clears and vanishes to dust,
only to return and settle anew
to sit and sink in rot.
Hidden once more in beauty,
through flowers scented veils,
the stench of growing darkness,
perfumes sweet stenches now.
by L. M. Montes
Day is but a light with life to live,
rejoice and stroll in Earth’s green meadowed parks,
embed in you the yearning of your soul,
a thread to reach and sew life’s gifted oats,
meant to thrust on others life’s warmth and glow.
L. M. Montes
An ember born of fire,
floats upwards to the sky,
when breezes wane and lessen,
to the earth it lands and dies.
A golden tree looks down at me,
with radiant red delicious eyes.
It grows with love and life anew,
yet no one goes there,
I wonder, don’t you?
This golden tree is set in green,
where gardens are a paradise.
It shares a strength and sings to you,
yet no one goes there,
I wonder, don’t you?
One day a sword of flame appeared,
to guard the tree from man.
For they were told to stay away,
yet now they seek it,
I wonder why, don’t you?
by L. M. Montes
Your growth as a writer is important. After all, the better you get, the better your story/poem will be. When that happens, your reader response goes up. You also want to please others with your writing and getting better at it will accomplish that. Below are some ways to advance your writing skilks:
Have fun with your writing growth journey. I promise you it will be a great adventure in and of itself.
With lilt a breeze gives me a jilt,
and on my cheek it plants,
scents of lavender caress,
floating aloft a flowerbed.
I saunter to a jagged edge
to watch the sun go down
behind the ocean’s salty bed.
As the sky dims to ebony,
the ivory stars blink
their eyes and watch
me from the vast
expanse of the heavens.
The heavy mists
which evening brings
lifts upward to envelop
and imprison me
as night befalls.
I cannot see
the craggy edge
that looms so far below—-
the mist has cupped its
hands on my eyes,
so the cliff I would not view.
Panic grabs my fearful head,
I cannot move,
for if I do,
I topple till I’m dead.
Looming—-
in the shadows of time,
skeletons of a haunted past,
like Satan’s fury—-
they test and tease,
taunting and afflicting until he’s pleased.
This plaguing past that will not die,
shall eat me from way down inside,
it travels—-
flamed obsession—-
My head it whirls and twirls about,
it stalks my smitten soul,
I try to rid these tentacles of time,
but still it slithers—-
there it lurks—-
a staring stranger,
forcing, reaching, grabbing, glaring—-
I’d like to think the past is gone,
but still—-
it shall remain taboo,
always there,
can never undo.
The emerald blades of grass
Glisten softly in the sun,
With a color wheel of wild flowers
Dancing in the wind.
Ice blue skies with feathers of clouds
Gently floating by.
The sand creates a blanket,
That lies wrinkled under me,
While the sound of sleepy waves
Cradle me to slumber.
WRITE TIME AND AGAIN 