Walking the streets
inside my dreams
Alone to wonder
remain unseen
Stone cold
eerily silent
No whispers
no screams
Wondering silently
ever so Still
Moving foreward in time
Yet not moving at all
Alone still i wonder
Inside my dreams
Twisting so slowly
Left becomes right
Turning completely
day becomes night
Shadows and fog
In front and behind
Slow rising voices
Echo from walls
Walls i cannot see
Yet these walls
they confine me
Alone i am no longer
Inside my dreams
Now walking faster
Yet getting no where
Stomach twisting and turning
Voices so yearning
Louder now louder
The screaming begins
Painfull cries
Into the night
Hard as i try
Just cannot fight
The night glows red
Then all goes dark
As i wake in my bed
And try to forget

While I find very little pleasure in poetry at all, I find that the ones
that are a bit on the dark/Gothic side are more up my alley and I can
find enjoyment in them. This poem, if that is what it can be classified
as, is dark and mysterious and I love it.

Very nice Sugarjen.










Lantz, are you a professional critic? Not. Are you a published poet?
Not. Might I suggest that if you cannot show respect to the author of a
piece that you just not comment.

Nice work Jenn, Dreams of the night can be calmed.





G




I think this be one of the ghosts we have booted before, such a critic
he was also.