​
into a slow motion
Slide show
An over exposed mind reel
Blasting in from the past
A watered down version
Of the man with the mask
A conquistador’s parade
in the faded fashions of yesterday
a procession for here and now
The past has gone underground
Tomorrow reigns nigh
For a vibrant mind
Ahead of his time
So fine beneath
A waste land of shadows
Has the light grown dim
Where his dreams dwell
Perhaps a ship dwelling
A hull with no name
Witless and wandering
In these dark hours of pain
A maiden voyage through
The blackest inlet
Where there’s no outlet
Except for free will?
​
By Mary M. Park Et. al. For STEPHEN KING
​
brooding
grey
clouds
the Fall sky ripe
with winters announcement.
golden yellow leaves
framed in a fierce embrace
against the thunder-grey horizon
I wait
nostalgic
in a quiet as cold and crisp as winter
an endless pause
and yet this place
is strangely beautiful
painted in the amber hues
of all that came before
the trees golden tresses fall
into stark oblivion
and the renewal of spring
seems an eternity
WEST MEETS EAST
MIDDAY
Golden gates
The way looped and spread
Between the darkness
To bridge the mists into
Forevermore
scintillate symbols
of days gone by to
span the days ahead
hooves beating across
and within the bluest
flames
to pierce the broken
hearted
our memories fly
beyond the solar system
into the very air we breath
forgotten highways
where soldiers fight
but there is no prize
our disgrace
the blood of giants
goldenseals to vast
estates
the winds of change
renewed
​