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Heathers Literary Archive|
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| Heather's Literary Archive |
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| NATURE by Heather Harrod Riding under trees bent low The mare's steamy breath blows back Biting wind and stinging snow Beneath the branches all is black A flash of feathers catch my eye Arrow shaft or brave's headdress? Does this mean the end is nigh? No, it's just a robin's breast A dark place in the endless white Footprints leading to and from The mare's muscles bound and tight I grasp the reins with fingers numb With thought and legs I urge her on Close to where the body lay As we edge near it begins to dawn The savage scene that must did play The doe lay prone upon the ground Fresh tracks circling left and right The coyotes lunged from all around Leaving her no chance of flight My mare throws her head up high Her nervous whinny cuts the air I turn her with a heavy sigh Tis naught but nature, nothing rare This poem was accepted for publication by http://www.orionarchery.com , a web page specializing in bow accessories. OBSERVATIONS OF SPRING by Heather Harrod I watch the shadow of Winter hastily retreat. The dry rattle of wind in the reeds Giving way to the silken rustle of Spring. Earth now wears the gentle hues of life, Impertinent dandelions pushing yellow faces Through the soft green grass. The mouse and mole begin to labor Digging tunnels in warm, moist ground Preparing for new litters of young. Swing sets are visited once again By laughing children, pushing higher into the sky. Their parents walk in the twilight, holding hands. Gone are the widow's weeds, the drab colors of grief Demeter greets Persephone once again. THE VICTIM By Heather Harrod The heroine of our story gazes out into the night Waiting for her lover to end her dreadful plight Her arms are bound beside her and the drugs course through her vein Her mind's in evil turmoil none but he can ease her pain They've told her he does not exist but that cannot be true She's met with him oft' in the dark his face a pallid hue She's begged him to receive her blood he's always turned away She thought last night she'd change his mind that him she'd finally sway As before he came to her by the moon's dim light She threw wide the windows, greeting him with scarce contained delight She once again beseeched him to accept her crimson gift This time when he again said no A razor she did lift She thought that once he saw life running quickly out her arm He'd hold her in his cold embrace to keep her safe from harm But she was wrong about her love and others of his kind He sups not on blood, but sanity From his victim's mind This poem was accepted for publication on the ultimate vampire site... http://pathwaytodarkness.com If you enjoyed your visit, please vote for my site at the top left portion of my home page. Also, feel free to sign my guest book. http://maxpages.com/maxpage.cgi/kentuckyharrod Back to Home |
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