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D.L. Dioses

The May Editor's Pick Poet is D. L. Dioses

Please feel free to email D. L. at: danndio13@gmail.com

dann

THE FADE

Between the dark and the light,
I live within “The Fade”—
between the good and the bad,
between peacefulness and rage.
I live in indecision—

between the pull and push,
I live within the vestiges,
an imp of capture and ambush.
I feed off of indifference—
I linger in your tears.
I live within your sorrow—
between the joy and fear.
So choose one way or the other;
do not live a life that’s staid,
or you may find yourself living,
within the shadows of “The Fade.”

OVER THERE

The young boy spoke so softly
and though he did not quite belong,
he asked if he could join us;
a Trick-or-Treat tag-a-long.

He said his name was Toby;
he was only eight years old,
so I told him if he joined us,
my hand he had to hold.

He wore a suit quite dirty,
dusty, stained and torn—
a red cravat and buttoned shoes,
a top hat old and worn.

His hand was taut and frigid;
his skin was rough and yellow;
his teeth brown and broken;
his eyes and checks were sallow.

His death mask was a make-up,
quite disturbing to behold,
his little face consisted of
open sores and ancient mold.

To each door he paused with us,
in his hat he caught his treats,
he bowed as way of thank you,
in a manner very sweet.

He stopped us at the graveyard
and bid us all good-night,
we asked why he enters here.
He said, “My parents sleep inside.

“Would you like to meet them?
My candy I must share.”
he placed sweets by two gravestones,
and said, “I sleep over there.”

MIDNIGHT SPECTORS

I look before me, then behind,
I look from side to side,
Midnight Specters are closing in,
It’s dark, I’m lost outside!

Barren branches grasp at me,
fog does hug the ground,
creatures which are not asleep,
are scurrying around.

Grass like fingers clutch my legs,
and pull me to my knees,
shades use the opportunity,
to whisper and to tease.

The Moon, it blinks a knowing wink,
large gray clouds steal by,
to reveal a moonlight hide and seek,
that plays games before my eyes.

The rushing wind passes near,
forlorn phantoms wail and cry
they bellow painful promises,
of evil deeds that horrify.

D. L. Dioses is a freelance writer and poet. He has contributed poems to the e-zine, Dark River Press. He was also included in the e-book Tales from the River, Volume 1. He attributes his many shades of grey to his childhood fear of the dark and his curiosity of what lie in the shadows.

A brush with “The Reaper” in his later years brought a new perspective concerning the balance of good and evil. He has come to embrace all the monsters under the bed and the dark behind the door.

He enjoys bouncing ideas off of his daughter, writer Ashley Dioses. They share a fondness for words and the macabre. He can be reached at Danndio13@gmail.com.