Happy House.

March 27, 2010

I want a house in the hills,
with pristine views of the skies
and the forgotten mills.

I want the linen on my bed,
to speak to me in riddles
and leave me with stories worthy of pickles.

I want a stone fire place,
with skewers made of iron
and a fire that mimics a dancer’s grace.

I want my cutlery to be happy and queer,
with mismatching colours of the rainbow
to leave my guests puzzled with cheer.

I want the sunshine and I want the rain,
and when you walk in through that door,
I want you to blink back in amaze.

By Camiloo



March 25, 2010

I see the sun, brimming from the edges of the pit I’m in.

The fall was long, the well was deep.

But to my luck, it was shallow, and the water only reached up to my elbows.

I am cold, cold in the dark waters of this sunken ground.

But I can feel the walls around me.

The stones have grooves that hold me up, and I won’t fall deep within.

I am slipping, into the darkness, and I can’t hold on any longer.

I am too tired and weary

I am bleeding against the walls of my strength, and slipping away.

I am gone, away into the light.

I have found my peace, and now everything is alright.

I am free, to fly the skies, in search of another journey, and kiss the past goodbye.

By omagnas