Ms Cheryl Diane Parkinson

Writer

Would you take a walk through the Old Wily Woods?

Leave a comment

Would you take a walk through the Old Wily Wood?

Would you take a walk through the Old Wily Wood?
Where the Ambergris Grimm is up to no good?
Would you take a stroll through the deep if you could?
Knobbly limbs, lobes and probes, trunks awkwardly stood.

The moon riding high casting an eerie glow,
Distorting the shadows that flick two and fro,
Stretching and haunting the nooks, crooks and low,
Ghostly shadows in the brush, eyes red a-glow.

The place where things vanish, dissolve in thin air.
Gossamer-thin ghosts float free, without a care.
A live beating heart in the dim quite is rare.
Breath misting the shadows distorting the air.

A quiver, a shiver, shudders up your spine,
A soft moaning wind, whines around through the pines,
Shadows and ghostly figures, glide and entwine,
The trees, reaching branches, snag, scrape: so malign.

Flaunting the haunting, the wood loses your steps,
Stumbling and fumbling through the darkness and wet,
The rain in cahoots, drizzles cold wet and frets,
As the wind whips up the pace, your fate is set.

Leaves floating free tumble and cover your tracks,
Whispers and flutters round your ear and your back,
Changing, evolving the wood stops your backtrack,
The wild wily wood’s laughter, rings live through the black.

Would you take a walk through the Old Wiley Wood?
Heart hammers in fear, could you burn firewood?
Knowing the thick trunks and branches where they stood,
Could rip up their roots, move, betraying deadwood.

Would you take a walk through the dead of the night?
Shadows seeping, creeping and curling in sight,
The moon riding high, lonely, pale and in fright
The freaky whispers, pluming breath fragile-white.

The Old Wily Wood is alive with mischief,
Will whisper and twist til you beg for relief
Whispy, ghostly spectres will make you believe,
And fear for your life from the beast in the trees!

Rough knobbly fingers rip and tear at your hair,
Not for the faint hearted, so better beware!
Red eyes in the undergrowth, tread with a care!
Moaning winds, yawning mouths, beware the beast’s lair!

Would you take a walk through the Old Wiley Wood?
Knowing that the trees there were up to no good?
Would you take a stroll through the dark if you could?
Knobbly limbs, lobes and probes, trunks awkwardly stood.
wily woods

Advertisements

Author: Ms Cheryl Diane Parkinson

The silent opinionated songstress...( who doesn't really sing any more!) A cat-loving, vegan creative writer and teacher. I paint pictures with language, paints and pencils. I write about anything that inspires me, from teenage fiction to children's stories. From serious articles to poetry. Currently seeing the ever elusive literary agent. Been known to occasionally perform poetry.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s