Long brown hair finds gray,
She is beautiful in fall.
Older, I still love her.
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Cold mountain rain, kisses.
The peaks wear a foggy crown.
Stories live, in the mist.
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Brown dog at my feet.
Tales swim sluggish in my head.
Paper, sips up my story.
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Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert
Fall wrapped itself around the mountains in a cold misty blanket. Rain wept for the lost summer season. Emily wore her oldest and most comfortable pajamas. The kids had already gone into school with their rain jackets and rubber boots. Her husband carried the soft memory of her farewell kiss to start his day. She was finally alone. Her eyes now caressed the items carefully placed in the home office. A small red ball played music on the shelf. Its black wire finding her ipod. Norah Jones and Keb Mo warmed the air in the room against the clear cold rain tickling the window. She took another sip of warm peppermint tea. The sharp flavor danced with her senses. The keyboard, and laptop conquered all of the available space on the wooden desk. She sighed, breathing in the moment as she pulled out her notebook. A delightful moment of writing drank her up as smooth and focused as the storm outside.
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Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert
A blue pen lays on my wooden desk. Its soul is encased in transparent plastic shell. The tube of thick blue ink is a pipeline for my creativity to flow onto the page. Imprinting my words into immortal tales. “What was it like to be human?” Writing; a mighty force indeed.
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Breath captured, by her.
Love rises in a white cloud.
My heart sings her name.
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Fingers dance softly,
on lovers skin. Goosebumps.
Must I go to work?
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Hot sweet swirl. Coffee.
Thick book. Crisp pages. Author long gone.
As I read, he lives.
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Dusty red stone path.
Blue sky. Cold wind. Summer fades.
Mountain Man walking.
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Rusty roof. Dying old truck.
Young son. Middle aged dad.
Memories are born.
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Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert
Gray clouds weep, rain falls.
Hot soups flavor, dancing taste soothes.
Glorious blanket.
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Hot black coffee drink.
My face drinks the morning sun.
All downhill from here.
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Snot streaks under his nose.
Toys thrown upon, everywhere.
2 year old finds joy.
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Heart pumps wild red love.
My glorious inflated torture.
Pressure of a kiss.
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Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/glorious/
Pressing the button to silence the radio, I drove on in the thick darkness. The road like a frozen river of stone. Lights like lost souls drifting, steady towards home. I asked my Creator to sit with me, I felt as if he was listening to me in the empty passenger seat. With tires howling and wind lashing at my car I asked for his help. I said I was sorry for telling him last, for fighting on my own, for saturating in evil for so long. I drank a tall cold glass of water that night as I went to bed. As I slept, a swirling and glowing microscopic lightning danced peacefully in my brain. Glowing threads, like little fingers, clean my mind. They are pulling a sticky putrid sludge loose from my memory. An angry storm of black clouds and red lightning falls out of my ear as I sleep. Scales covered in oil. A screaming angry invader writing in protest. Rendered powerless in its eviction, it falls. Shadows rule minds that choose to stand with backs turned toward the light. A yellow warm listening light, when called upon, when unblocked, burns demon flesh to ruin.
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Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert
Zachary W Gilbert, Author 