A simple collection of poetry curated by moi.
Derived by the depths of my Poetizer account.
Written from the heart, polished by the soul.
That being said, please, read and enjoy!
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"The writer has such a unique and creative way of putting their inne...
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The winding road twisted and turned, A rusted truck spilling over the gravel.
The air was crisp, fragile leaves upturned, A perfect day for a New Year's Day travel.
Dappled sunlight dancing across the dash. Twigs and grass patches pass by in a flash.
Stephen glances over as he keeps the wheel steady.
Pretending not to notice is Raina Anna Dwighty.
"How much farther do you think?" He asks, Her gaze wandering to one of the dusty trails
His mind's been running, thinking of the task of meeting her family, worried of the tales.
The girl glances in the rearview mirror and says, "Not much farther. Thank you wind, I'm frizzed."
She watches Stephen for a moment, smile on her face.
The truck hits a pothole and the passengers are displaced.
Both anxious and nervous, the two stay silent. A clearing in the forest holds a pebble pathway,
Birds in the pine trees quickly resolves the quiet. Not a cloud in the sky plays a peaceful midday.
Stephen drives up to the garage, cabin in front, The two jumping form the truck with a grunt.
A large, medieval styled cabin catches his first sight.
Def the modernity he had expected, he thinks in fright.
Intricate arches carved out of pure birchwood, A dark, glossy finish for the wrap around porch.
Unable to keep eyes off the place where he stood, "Why, it looks much like that of a catholic church!"
Raina steps up the stairs with a cheerful guffaw. "Maybe now's a good time to pick up your jaw."
He follows her to the deck, through the front entrance.
The sound of pots and pans inside creating a low trance.
A strange smell was wafting through the rooms, Unable to find the origin, thought left before long.
Must be some musty attic, Stephen did assume. And the couple heads for the kitchen, odor strong.
Raina peeked a head through the opening door, greeted by parents standing on the kitchen floor.
Although they were nice enough, characters unexpected;
Mr Dwighty tall and thin, his wife small but suspected.
With wide set shoulders, her knuckles brush hem, Her thick, bushy brown hair pulled tight in a knot.
Noticing something wasn't quite right with them, Stephen asked for instructions to the toilet spot.
— m.y.
ps we were required to write a short ghost story for english one year, and i thought it would be fun to turn a little part of it into one of my poems! hope you enjoyed <3
