I am a shadow,
between me and fire, He stands,
without Him, I burn.
…
Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert
Uncategorized
Clouded yarn of night
Sleep pulls at the backs of my eyes.
I suddenly notice my head is heavy,
a weight hangs inside my skull
pulled by yarn made of twisted clouds,
pulls my eyes into my neck.
A cool pillow, swallows my face.
The lights go dark,
shadows dance on my eyelids,
as sleep
pulls me into another realm.
…
Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert
Haiku, then ‘knackard’
White fog blanket,
soothing silence envelopes,
a red heart glow.
…
In Colorado, we don’t say ‘knackard’. In fact, I have never heard anyone the United States ever say that. So, my dearest reader friends, I shall for your viewing pleasure, play with the word phonetically, as it could possibly be used in various parts of the US. Many of my favorite authors have a well read educated narrator, but when the characters speak, they ‘live in their world’. This is my humble attempt at some characters speaking within ‘their world’ (try and guess the accent regions in the comments section. Also, may help to read aloud)
…
“Days cops duhn caught may! Course fore dey did, I dun run drunk and knackard for three blocks.”
…
“Yeya deh doc. I fell and spilled my cwoffee, and I thank I got my knackard.”
…
“Wyatt, you still diseased?”
“Nahh, cured.”
…
Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert
Blanket
Blanket of dust,
Keyboards unlock stories prison,
Readers cry, “Free them!”
…
Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert
Silently Serve, Silently Die
Roots, like hearts are hidden,
under where people blindly step.
The fruit on the tree is made,
nourished, and sacrificed for
by that, which is unseen.
Not until the soil is dead,
and all the water is drank, dry,
does the fruit tree tip over,
and the broken heart leak,
and shows what layed silent
under the feet of fools
a inverted crown of roots,
snap,
an abused highway of veins,
strangles,
the dying servant
kissed by fire,
turned to ash,
before the empty sockets,
of starving eyes.
…
Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert
