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WINTER MOONJanuary moon, glowing bright,
it lights the way on misty nights;
a serenading by the loon
while holding sway the winter moon.

We hear the hooting of the owl,
and raccoons sneaking, on the prowl;
the trees, their bark sticks out like runes,
while holding sway the winter moon.

The fireflies, they dance about,
hyenas cackle as they shout;
a breath of night makes flowers swoon,
while holding sway the winter moon.

Always, the night must yield the way,
and sink upon the light of day;
the night will come again real soon,
while holding sway the winter moon...

DAVID ROGERS

ONE DAY IN DECEMBEROne day in December, everything changed,
and no one will ever be the same again.
It was a day that made a president cry,
leaving the whole of a nation in mourning.

One day in December, the shots rang out,
and with them the specter of death would follow;
within the walls of a New England school,
twenty small children lay dead on the floor.

One day in December, the parents came.
Some found their children and others did not.
So many Christmas trees laden with gifts,
for angels that cannot open them now.

One day in December, answers were sought,
and so far there’s only one man to blame;
by his own hand he is silenced forever,
but his cri

THE WOMAN BY THE SEAAs the day grows old with clouds of pink
there’s a woman standing by the sea
with a fading sun that seems to wink.

She is looking down without a blink
to contemplate what may not be
as the day grows old with clouds of pink.

Her desires never seem to sink
as she’s whispering a silent plea
with a fading sun that seems to wink.

It is by the sea she likes to think
for it is here her soul roams free
as the day grows old with clouds of pink.

The sand beneath her feet like mink
her dreams are one big mystery
with a fading sun that seems to wink.

A cool ocean mist her skin will drink
this eloquent woman by the sea.
As the day grows o

JANUARY BLOOMSWhat will, in January, bloom?
What, in the winter, thrives and grows?
The loons cry out their tuneful woes,
and winds, they sweep around like brooms.

The skies, sometimes, are filled with gloom,
while stalks lie withered in their rows.
What will, in January, bloom?
What, in the winter, thrives and grows?

I lay my head upon your womb,
my love for you, it starts to flow;
it’s this that blooms, as we both know,
and maketh me your winter groom.
What will, in January, bloom?
What, in the winter, thrives and grows?

DAVID ROGERS

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Submitted: November 20, 2012
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INTO THE BLACKby =DragonsChest

Literature / Poetry / Horror / Visual & Found Poetry

This is the last of my collaborative works for this year. This is the first collaboration between myself and the wonderful Nilla

I would definitely like to thank Nilla for allowing me to add poetry to her wonderful artwork, and hope that we can collaborate again in the future.

About the poem. This poem is based off of both a dream I had and a movie. The dream was one where a ghost was begging me to let her borrow my body for awhile. The more reluctant I became, the more she would implore me. It was when I was going to shout 'NO!' that I woke up and sat straight up in bed. The movie was called 'The Woman In Black.' This movie was about a vengeful ghost who stole the souls of the towns children as a punishment for the loss of her own child. I kind of married the idea of the movie and the dream together and came up with the poem you have read. Nilla's picture really captures this poem nicely, and am glad to see them together.

Original work titled 'Is This The Way.' by

Credits for her work can be found here [link]

Stock image by cathleentarawhiti [link]

Poetry by

All of my Poems and Lyrics are copyrighted and may not be copied or used without my express permission... © 2012

This work was rendered using Adobe CS6