"I never ask a man what his business is, for it never interests me. What I ask him about are his thoughts and dreams."
H. P. Lovecraft

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!

Saturday, May 23, 2020

The old man's hand

The old man's hand
crooked and deformed,
just seen too much,
life-beaten,
tries to serve as well,
as in the good old days,
the golden years of it,
yet it fails so strong,
fingers like dry branches,
nerves are full of pain,
but never wait for end,
the sparkle small
of vital signs
keeps the mechanics working,
just every grasp on air
makes worthy
the attempt to stay,
it never ends until the end,
the work of old man's hand...

Friday, May 22, 2020

Storm

The wind came sudden
as a faith of no escape...
The trees just followed
in a dance decay...
Green and full of life,
yet doomed to bow,
and storm just swiped away
their summer glow...
The sky became a grey mess,
clouds brought coldness,
my mind just flew above
in pure wild madness...
Is that a bird?!

Similar publications

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...