A Country Girl's Writing

This poem was inspired by the myth of the Grim Reaper. He is know for collecting the souls from people when their time is up.   I saw a figure  Descending down Upon a feeble body; Reaping 'way life  With it's own breathing.  That foul figure  Paralyzed me, Into a macabre fear That stiffened me, While it disappeared.  The feeble being That I had seen  No longer was it breathing  The figure, a brute, Took life an' now me.  By Evelyn Creon

Leaves on the ground, Leaves on the trees; All in a colorful display, A splendor, an' array.  Red an' yellow, for apples That rest upon the ground.  Orange, for pumpkins  All carved, an' round.  Amber, for spiced cider  A yummy warm, refreshment.  Brown, for the acorns   That we turn into decor.  The colors they're lustrous, A beauty to the eye.  The colors of autumn  That fill the October sky.  By Evelyn Creon

Don't be afraid  Of the dark of night.  It's only dark because Of the absence of light.  By Evelyn Creon

Inspired by a summer evening.  Shh! Listen to the music Directed by the crickets.  They're singing symphonies  In the evening light, If you care to listen.   By Evelyn Creon

Image flashed fore me, I closed my eyes tight.  Darkness settled in With it brought, inept sin.  I cried, "Not again,"  My eyes began to burn  From a fire within,  "I can't look again."   I opened my eyes, The image it was gone, Far from my eye sight.  I could breath once again.  In that dark evil place, The sun began to show 'baft a mountain peek It did begin to grow.  Tears filled my eyes  Once again I denied  Undeniable sin  That tried to rule my life. By Evelyn Creon