Warm Noir

NaPoWriMon #30

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Country Dreaming

Shall I sit dreaming of bucolic scenes
Where Autumn dresses in her russet gown;
Low sun beams bathe the world in golden sheens
Harvests all brought in, the fields rest in brown;
The sun tracing a lower arc each day,
At night, I’d don a shawl against the chill,
I dream of barns lined with sweet lucerne hay
And the soft swooshing of a water mill
But now we live with electricity,
Factory food on supermarket shelves,
My dreams seem a quaint eccentricity;
Next, they say I’ll be dancing with the elves,
Yet such scenes are deep embedded notions
Of romantic poets and their potions.

#NaPoWriMo 24

Vampira’s Anniversary

Star-crossed Lovers

The black marble mausoleum
Brightly gleams
Catching blood red flowers
From the setting sun
Against the fading light.

He stops to pick
Three poppies for his love
Who sleeps without breathing
In an obsidian bower
Beside his.

He recollects a night
When the stars cried in dismay
Watching them both die
And rise again most unnaturally
As the poppies bloomed.