fiction and poetry, Poetry, Writings

The Kid

2014 © Christopher Martin

2014 © Christopher Martin

A Blizzard,
where winds howl,
like a direwolf,
missing his master,
where light is consumed,
even in the layers of white,
no living seen out,
no dead can be seen,
only sheer darkness,
ruling in the cold.
a boy cries strolling,
in the snow,
they say he was lost,
a few years ago,
his cries are not of pain,
but a whimsical laughter,
to bring out the living,
and play in snow,
those who go,
never come back,
but their cries are heard,
like the howlings,
every same day,
the child got lost.

Nostalgia, Poems, Random thoughts

Depth of my Dreams


In my dream i drown myself in the sea,
seeing the surface helplessly,
somebody is dragging me from behind,
pulling with all strength,i think to resign,
i gasp for breath till i faint,
to find myself in the sea again,
it wants to tear me apart,
Itch this nightmare deep into my heart,
i shiver and tremble all in pain,
My efforts are going in utter vain,
I turn around gathering some might,
to see this force once again this night,
i see every dream i wished in life,
as the force i feared in nightmarish fight,
broken dreams do pull me down,
choke me up,
break me down,
but i remember the phoenix that rises from ashes,
and its just water here,leaving more chances
i have to be the phoenix from now every night,
burn whatever i have within in sight,
it is then i would be free
from myself and the sea.

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Poems, Random thoughts

Shattered Windows


Windows that are shattered tell a story,
of people that live there without any glory,
broken glasses do cause pain,
hitting back memories spent in vain,
of roof left attended,of cradle that swings till now,
of laughter that echoes like scream somehow,
the winds dare not create any noise,
to awake people trapped there having no choice,
the blood is spilled all on the floor,
a perfect setup for a serious gore,
the baby still laughs and runs the place,
searching for the dog,never ends the chase,
the place remains like this anytime of the year,
laughter,voices that seem terrible my dear,
i haven’t seen them but just have heard
they were a happy family,like every third.
nobody stills know what happened there,
some say it was murder,some say poisoned air,
leave them alone and do not follow,
for their memories are scary,happiness hollowed.

fiction and poetry, fiction&writing, Freehand Writing, Haunting, Nostalgia, Poems, Poetry, Random thoughts

The Mist and Me

The Mist is all I could see
Strange it may see,it seems on a killing spree
Thick white disappearing with no ends,
cold,unfriendly like omen,
they say it takes you and gives an easy death,
without pain and sorrow,without regret,
I died a long ago but still have the pain,
Me and mist are friends now,unseperable we disappear.