Hey all, crap title i know, but felt it was the right thing to write... You see, I'm about to delve into poetry, saw some old scribblings and decide to post them here for some crit and comment. There's two 'peices' here, so please tell me what you think...
EDIT: yep, poety is not a new word for poetry, I just ignored the dictionary on that one.. oopps...!
Whispering Winds
When the wind howls
When the air beats off our homes
When anger wills the wild weather
When we are hammered to the earth from angry Gods fuming from above,
We are protected.
From the deluge of hatred
From the foul thoughts of hell
From the torment of the wailing winds
From waves of destruction
It is the same fiend that blinds us with rain and snow
With wind and hail
That holds the Angels that live within moments
Curling, swirling within the wistful seconds
That touch our cheeks so gently
Caressing our skin, our souls.
The knowing that peace will reign
Can reign,
But live within the binding Nature of destruction, pain and, yes, even death.
Each wind can hold belief, salvation and freedom.
Listen to the whispering winds
A scale of life and death
Something to fear, something to love.
Listen,
Friends,
Foe.
The White Room
He was sitting in a white room, no windows. A small light lit the room; it flickered every now and then.
It was also white.
What was he waiting for?
The noises, small quiet at first, snapped at his mind. A white, salacious noise, itching at the realms of infinity.
If only he could get out the box.
One door, plain and almost non-existent in the pureness of the room, was a rectangle in front of him.
A small dark line was all it was. No handle.
One way.
He was naked, yet not cold or warm. Almost adrift in his senses. His emotion an equilibrium of light.
And dark.
A flicker.
Staring at the whiteness of the walls, he almost thought of something, almost. But he didn’t.
Isn’t strange how we accept our existence? What if we knew more?
What if?
He stood up from the white floor, because it had to be the floor, not the ceiling, as he was taught.
He stared at the white in front of him, as he called it.
The noise stopped.
He breathed.
The door opened, he could not see out.
‘Are you ready now?’ A voice asked.
He stared at the open door.
And walked out.
