Dearly departed,
In my mind eyes
you roam the meadow
Shimmering white mane of snow
Alabaster horn of unblemished light
A healer of mind and soul
Stabbed by cowardly human spears
And in the bright of day
A creature of myth lies to die in silence
And that’s how a legend appears.
***
© Sherine Meshad, 17 Jan 2006
There’s still a pulse, A faint beat of a trampled heart,
The film is rolling with no sound,
Muted screams of a vacant mind.
Sunbeams raining, cold as ice,
Soak the skins of a desperate life,
While raindrops plunge to sting the eyes,
Burning holes through shattered lies.
© Sherine Meshad, Jan 2006
Creature of the dark, Creeping behind the silhouette of night,
Plummeting your teeth in earthly flesh,
Craving crimson streams running through fresh veins.
Sipping at souls of mortal beings,
Eternally seeking to quench thy thirst,
Cold heart, not one beat left,
Plagued immortality of the living dead.
Shedding goodness, flaking deceit,
Forever beset to shun the sun,
Infinity fade with a piercing stake,
Driven into your lifeless chest.
***
© Sherine Meshad, 4 Jan 2006
Happy children playing ball,
A joyous image for one to hold.
But playing in cemetery grounds?
Where restless souls can now be found?
Children of five and six I saw,
Making cheery noises, that children do.
Driving by the scene, lost in thought,
The image struck me, socked me to the core.
Our hearts have grown quite cold with time,
Children begging in streets, doesn’t strike me down.
But amazement grows in this heart of mine
At joyous children in the cemetery ground
***
© Sherine Meshad, 4 Jan 2006
