Wild Thing by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Running away from the starlight raid
searching under every tree and bush
for a glimpse of her

hoping a power beam might catch her
in the open for the chase to begin
where thousands join in disbelief

her beauty beyond their dreams
catching their breath
and almost fainting

struggling against the crowd
grasping at those ahead of them
pulling them back and down

the night sky magnifying
a chase quickly becoming
a grasping herd of maniacs

Wild Thing looks back
over her naked shoulder
smiling into a laugh

the earth shakes
grass fields waving in the wind
with the misery of all their jealousy

she jumps off a sudden cliff
down into a sea no longer calm
disappearing into dark waves

thousands follow her
realizing too late
Wild Thing is the demon

they all have become.

Stephen Jarrell Williams writes at night, waking from his dreams, before they consume him.  He can be found @papapoet on Twitter X.

The Blue Mountain by Stephen Jarrell Williams

My tears burn
from letting it out

I weez and cough

escaping back into the mountain

trees and streams in the far view

away from the choke of cities

collecting myself and deep breathing

in the secret places once unknown

their caves of ivory walls painted by hand

and floors of thick moss

green shimmering

fresh as heaven in the beginning

how I refound this in my childhood

memories 

coming back to me

in these days of distress

walking in awe through the tunnels

and vaulted ceilings

masterful paintings on the walls

and every slab of stone and walkway

monuments to the dead

fathers and mothers

of seed and flowers

this secret place

that in telling you

I've opened a possible

gate to destruction

for everyone that follows and finds

The treasures and haunting of

The Blue Mountain.

Stephen Jarrell Williams loves to write poems and paint works of art at night with lightning bolts!  (Always wearing rubber gloves!)  He can be found on Twitter @papapoet