Rainfall
Cross wind, yet gentle, the rain blossoms fromupon high.People scamper likefrightened animals, viacrossing paths, lanes,and streets.Tires hiss like sleekthreatened snakes,puddled water, nowgushing out fromunderneath.Some wildlife hunkerdown, fading into dreams,others hunt or foragefor sustenance.Dead township on a coldrainy night, I gaze throughfailing eyes, as everythinggrows even darker, and suddenly ceases to exist.
Abandoned House in the Forest This house so dank and dark,abandoned, and huddled atthe edge of haunted forest line.Ominous fog, twirling likeballerinas, moss strewn; asconfetti across the tapestry.Do even the ravens fear this realm?A place, where nature reclaimsthis maimed land, this house,was never a home anyways.People dwelled within her hallowedhalls, yet they did not live, they neverlaughed, for there was no love; inwhich to give; in the first place.
Wayne Russell is a creative jack of all trades, master of none. Poet, rhythm guitar player, singer, artist, photographer, and author of the poetry book Where Angels Fear via Guerilla Genius Press, it is currently still available on Amazon.
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