Colossus999

One still night on winter's first breath, I stood outdoors under the foreboding sky; the air unmoving. There was a certain chill in the air which seemed to hold in its gusts memories of blizzards and tundras which were, had been, and were yet to come. The first snowflake fluttered toward the ground. A second arrived. The two were soon joined by a flurry, majestically bounding toward the earth. Before long, the terrain was blanketed by the soft shards. Winter was come, and the cold would only get deeper. The chill had made a vacuum of the town. Almost none had the courage to brave the cold. But, amidst the blankets of white, there glowed a g

The sun stood high in the sky above Wrethlen City. The clock struck noon, and the light stood so firmly, so centered, that it seemed as if it could pick any route to descend by, or else just give up and clatter down among the city lights. It was a molten summer day in early June. The trees and lawns in Wrethlen were beginning to show their age, browning, yellowing, and drying. Gardeners and naturalists wept throughout the community. And every television set, every car radio, and every mouth echoed the same stories of raging infernos sweeping through the south. Still more stories foretold the fires' exodus north toward Wrethlen; the dry leave

I Do Beseech Thee In times of weakness, bitter pain When life feels like a heinous curse It seems my source of greatest gain Is to blame the world, and make it worse. “It's not my fault that I feel that way! It's his, or hers, or parent's words. The situation I'm in today. Cold people led through life in herds.” I labor under dank delusion. Dichotomy on the endless earth And this has altered my conclusions This has buried faith and mirth. So God, I ask you now, today To always help along my way, To keep my mind on heaven's say, To keep the breach of faith at bay. Dear God, on this dark day, I pray For future carved

A great old oak grows 'mongst a bitter bog Where nothing lives, and all the earth is bile, And standing in the muck, Covered by fog, A sundial glows in majesty of vile. The oak has stood the test of time with strength, Though filth and greed have stretched their sticky claws. The boughs of friendship only grow in length, While all of nature tests them with their laws. They say that oak will see its final day When Sorrow's Sundial darkens under night, When warmth releases hold, and frost will play Among the leaves, defeating without strife, But still that sundial is quite warm and bright, And friendship's oak will only stretch its

We live in complex times, an abstruse age, The Internet a road on which we walk, But still we worship mankind's age old sage. There's never been a time it's not been sought. And though to new, “complex” is oft attached, And scientists work countless hours to learn, The vex of age old tasks cannot be matched. The fires of passion never cease to burn So mankind's destiny can find its place. But oftentimes it seems the junction's breached Connections fall and viruses find grace. The wisdom, both of old and new, impeached. The lines are disconnected now I fear. Why can I not pick up? It should be clear.

In the dead of winter's reign, The frigid plain by frost enslaved, I traversed a lonely lane While windswept branches bowed and waved. The atmosphere was dry and cold. The air released a biting chill. To travel this was harsh and bold, But some forsook this warning, still. I saw a woman in the frost, Worn by years, yet strong as steel, Whose walkway had in snow been lost. She labored long to make it clear. And though fatigue took her in truth There were no words upon her lips Nor complaints was she to muse. She did her work without a quip. And when I found her, she was done. Her job was finished. She retired. Then in the sky

Bittersweet is an ugly term - A merry time with an after-burn. But, what if you look at the word itself? Bitter and sweet are both just tastes. And don't some people like bitter foods? I doubt they're the ones who invented this word. What if, in a situation bittersweet, Instead of bemoaning the bitter waste, We should embrace it, with loving care, Like a man acquiring a subtle taste? Is that right? Is that good? Is that justifiable? Maybe I should. Bittersweet, oh, comfort and pain. My ever strong nemesis. My bane. Please help me to see.

I find myself alone on Christmas Day, And walking upon unfamiliar streets, Recalling days of old -a child at play - and wishing to, my lost childhood, repeat. And why am I alone this merry night? A merry night is simply hard to keep, When fury's grip is round you firm and tight, And sorrow's strength is surely at its peak. You ask if family I left behind? A family? What do I know of that? I have no family, only my mind, Whilst cheer is winging round me like a bat Accosting me with every turn I make As if to tell, "You don't have what it takes."

The toilet seat which sits upon the bowl Has slipped and now I see that I am wet. The murky depths, the bowl's aqueous shoals Have with my soul, my very essence, met. Since sordid surf has worked its work on me, The stench, it dwells, without a moment's ease. And shunned, I am. Content I cannot be. My discontent has brought me to my knees. But redolence restricts not my firm will. Mal odor is a test giv'n me by fate. So what I do is sit alone and still. The only road left open is to wait, Until a gift will come to help me cope. A bounty beautiful. A bar of soap.

I long for those days before the fall, When the word of the lord was law for all; When sparrows never ceased to sing; When the earth did chime and the heavens ring; When the lion always lay with the lamb, And fed himself not on meat, but jam.; When the bees would plenty honey bring (And this was before they had their stings). I pray for a time when decisions were mild, When a child could always be a child; When work was light, and vacations free; When the heavens were cinemas for all to see; When all of creation danced with joy; When we had just gotten this worldly toy; When buttercups were our delight; Before there was war, fa