Little Fears Sunday Collaboration

Peter's House

SAVED

A bump in the night,
It’s nothing, right?
Wind at the window,
Gusts at the door.
Shadows in the bedroom,

Were they there before?

An old farm house,
Creaking wood floors.
A musty bed
In an unused room.
A storm, mad rain,

Go to sleep, again.

A crucifix on the wall,
Across from the bed.
A voice in the dark,
A whisper in his head.
Have you been saved?

The shadows said.

Thorns on his head,
Blood on his ribs.
The pale figure moved,
First hands, then feet.
Stepped off the wood cross,

Floated down from the wall.

Sheets on the floor,
Feet on the stairs.
Heart pounding,
Door slamming.
Rain on his face,

He shouted back at the house.

Thanks, but I saved myself!

Art work, video, you know, all the hard stuff, by Peter—the creative mind behind Little Fears.

A big thank you to Peter for coming up with this Sunday Collaboration idea and giving me the opportunity to get Spooky. If you’re looking to start your day with a laugh, check out Peter’s blog.

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What Do You See?

I see nature winning,
And man failing.

I see a world suffice unto itself.
Oceans and plants and crawling things
All of whom
Would be better off without us.

I see humanity,
That puffed-up peacock of the animal world,
Building monuments to nothing
But our own vanity.

I see blue skies and green trees
Towering mountains and vast seas
And humans too stupid to
Appreciate any of it.

I see nature winning,
And man failing.

20180806_071340 (2)
Defunct stone fountain, Guernsey.

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If

If I had stopped to button my coat,
If I had skipped class that day,
If I had gone to another library or another school…
Would I have met you?

If you hadn't worn those pants,
If you hadn't walked in front of me,
If you hadn't said, "Hey."
Would you be at my side now?

Would you be at my side still,
When your hair has thinned and mine is grey?

Why you, why me, why us?


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Hard

A hand to hold against the emptiness?
A shoulder at my side?
A smile that says he knows me?
Laughter in the dark?

I want all of that, I do.

But now,
Now, I want the pounding.
Your hands on my hips,
Your body in mine.
I want the slam of us.

I want hard.

 

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Want

He moved,
His open jacket revealing and concealing
Grey suit pants over narrow hips.
Black belt

He tugged,
Fingers pulling at a silk knot
Grey tie slipping down a white shirt.
Black belt

He folded,
Rolling his shirt cuffs up
White bands framing strong arms.
Black belt

He unfastened,
A silver buckle on a strip of leather
The portal to pleasure.
Black belt